The Darjeeling Limited:
I can’t tell whether or not Wes Anderson is a genius movie director, of if he just thinks he is.
One Line Movie Review…
About frakking time….
So, I got a job.
At some software company that has its own semi-pro soccer team.
one big happy
Okay.
Not one big happy.
More like a bunch of little happys.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been in a funk. Not because of a big sad. But rather just a bunch of really mild annoyances (i.e. the seemingly neverending and soul-sucking job search.)
Lots of little happies today. Things like meeting Cary Ann Hearst (a local singer-songwriter who is quite good!) at lunch. My very own business cards finally arriving in the mail. Getting my resume off to a place I really want to work. Finding that really obscure song on iTunes…by an artist who shares my last name. Getting invoices out. Coming in second in a poker game (out of 25!). Hearing my grandmother is doing better. Chatting with the cute girl at the gym. Coming home to my wife. And my wife being totally cool with (and laughing at me for) chatting with the cute girl at the gym.
Yeah.
Some days the big happy is all of the small happys.
(And since the plural of ‘happy’ isn’t technically a word, I didn’t technically misspell it. Besides. I’m too happy to care).
dust & bones
Oh my gosh.
Cary Ann Heasrt totally waited on me today at lunch.
I don’t get to meet celebs that often. That’s why I’m all giddy.
Just a small town girl…
I have Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey stuck in my head.
On. Constant. Replay.
Normally, I’d complain.
But considering the song that’s normally stuck on replay in my head is the theme from Tiny Toons, I’m not complaining.
soul crushed
I’ve been hunting for a full-time job since November. And I keep getting really really close…but I absolutely can’t seal the deal. To the extent that I’m at least zero for five on the job hunt. And maybe, as of this morning, zero for six.
First of all, I have an awesome resume package. It’s a 12 page 9×9 piece printed on cardstock with my resume and a teaser portfolio. Every place I have applied has complimented me on it. Granted, this piece costs about $60 to produce, and I just don’t have the budget to produce any more of them. I’ve gone through at least 10 so far. Do the math.
I *always* follow up after the interview to let them know I’m still interested in the job. That includes a thank-you note and sometimes a phone call.
Here’s the rundown of all the places I’ve applied so far:
First Place:
I’d done a fair amount of freelance work for them before. I know them fairly well. There were two positions open. I basically came in third place - losing out to someone I hired at my previous job and someone who has a rep for being a tad lazy.
Needless to say, this put me in a serious funk for about a week, where I was very much re-evaluating whether or not I was a competent designer. Fortunately, I’m waaay past that now. My ego has returned to about 3/4 of the size it was. And yes, I’m competent. I’m way over my funk.
Second Place:
I sent them my resume for an Art Director position. I was told by the local Head Honcho that he was impressed enough with my resume, that he forwarded it to the Creative Director. Never heard from them again.
Third Place:
I wasn’t as heartbroken about not getting this job…since it was a Windows-based shop. But still, after being called in for a second interview and being told they’d narrowed it down to four candidates, I was a bit displeased that the job didn’t pan out. I even took their ‘Design Test’, which, according to the three people I showed my work to, was pretty strong. It involved spending about 4-5 hours creating a couple of logos. I went above and beyond and showed potential applications of the logos, as well as the evolution of making the logos. Apparently, that was 4-5 hours pretty much wasted. Not a good thing when you’re freelancing.
(I even had an extra Mac that I was going to sell them.)
Fouth Place:
The second place that never called me back for the Art Director position had an opening for a graphic designer position. I applied. I hit it off with the Art Director. I never heard from them again.
Fifth Place:
They know me - my old office was right next door to them. They were impressed with my work, but hadn’t yet made up their minds about whether or not they were going to actually hire another designer. Yeah.
Sixth Place:
This was for a graphic designer position - not an Art Director position. After meeting with them, I quickly realized I had more experience than the Art Director. As you can see on my resume, I’ve got a pretty good amount of publication experience - both in design and production. This place is producing a quarterly 160+ page publication…without a dummy. Something I told them I could help them implement.
I was told I’d hear back ‘first thing Monday morning.’
And it’s 11am on Monday morning. Not. A. Peep.
Now, I’ve got enough freelance work to sustain me for another couple of months(weeks). But that’s getting pretty grueling - (especially with one client who owes me $5,000 and refuses to return any of my phone calls.) And there’s that recession that seems to be hovering over us…kinda makes me think my freelance is about to dry up.
So - what the hell do I need to do to get a job? At this point, I’m very tempted to take some entry-level position just for some steady income. But it seems that I’m overqualified for half of the jobs and underqualified for the other half.
This is the most soul-crushing experience.
sigh.

Malled Over
Ah. The Christmas Season. That’s the time between the holiday where we give thinks for what we have when we push everyone else out of the way to get what we want.
Nope. No cynicism here.
I’ve never been a big fan of people. And maybe it’s old age kicking in, but I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t tell malls apart. You could blindfold me, drop me off in the middle of an anchor store, and I wouldn’t be able to tell you if I was in Dillards or Belk or Hell or a maximum security prison with a cosmetics counter.
Although, I would probably recognize Sears…for no other reason that it would be devoid of people this holiday season.
Alas, malls are an inevitability around Christmas. And, after many years of painstaking research, I’ve come up with my Mall Survivability List. It’s a healthy combination of survival tactics and various ways of messing with the other assholes around you.
#1 If you need to find a close parking space, go to Sears. No one ever goes to Sears.
#2 Let a horse escape the barn by Bath and Body Works. Granted, Lime-Coconut-Fart will probably never catch on as a mainstream scent, but it’s sure fun to try. Plus, if there’s a teenage boy anywhere in the vicinity, he will instantly get blamed for it.
#3 Carry on a conversation on your phone very loudly mixing the name of some random mall store with the hottest Christmas gift of the year. “Oh my gosh! I couldn’t believe that Old Navy had so many Wiis in stock. They must’ve had dozens of them!”
#4 If you’re not planning on carrying any large or heavy items back to your car, then park far away from the store. Then when walking back to your car, walk down the aisle next to where you parked. Wait for some car to start following you. Then cut across the aisle to your car, and watch the stalker car speed up to try and get your spot. Alternatively, you can occasionally act like you’re walking to someone else’s car, and bend down and pretend you just found a penny. If you’re feeling truly assholish, you can give the penny to the stalker car.
#5 If the crowd gets too thick, put your hand over your mouth like you’re holding in puke. I swear, people will part like a bad combover.
Of course, the absolute best way to cope with the mall is to type the word ‘Amazon’ into your browser….
But messing with overstressed people during the holidays does help your sanity a bit.
Aromatherapy
The dogs were starting to stink.
Not just an “Eww. That dog stinks” sort of stink. It was more like the dogs were walking around with a visible greenish-brown fog sort of stink.
Of course, my dogs hate baths. Whenever I put them in the bath, they give me the most pitiful look they can muster up. It’s as though they’re saying, “We’ve been your loyal companions for years. We love you. We cuddle with you. We give you cute dog kisses. And this is how you repay us? What did we ever, ever do to you to deserve this?”
I swear, if the dogs didn’t like to leave me weekly homemade presents on our wooden floors, I might feel guilty.
So, I loaded both dogs in the car to drive them to the doggie shop and give them their baths and spoil ‘em with a few treats. I have to say, it’s amazing how quickly one’s car can get overwhelmed by the smell of funky dog.
So, right as I get out of the driveway, I hear this audible, “Pfffffffft.”
I naturally assume it was some strange sound the car made.
So, I’m driving and OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS SACRED AND HOLY THAT IS THE NASTIEST DOG FART I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED.
AND I’M STUCK IN THE CAR WITH IT. I honestly was having shortness of breath and vision problems. I finally got the windows down, but even that didn’t help. I ended up getting out of the car in the middle of the street for a few minutes to let it…dilute a bit in there.
And, of course, I look at the culprit. He’s sitting in the front seat with a look of pride and relief on his face.
So, I make this pledge right here and right now: I will never ever fart under the covers when I’m in bed with my wife ever again.
As of yesterday, I am zero for three on the job search.
This is really starting to piss me off.
I plan to make it zero for four when I send my resume off today.
