Thursday, May 15, 2003 - 9:25 pm

Still haven't heard anything back from the people at the position I interviewed for this past week. (I went out and bought a palletload of resume paper, in the event I have to start out all over again. Bleh.) I found some spare time this week which I put to what I thought was good use, finishing up my latest armoring project, pictures of which can be viewed at my Cosplay.com gallery. I've got all the parts themselves constructed, and it's now all a matter of finishing up the little details. (They say the devil is in the details, and that little nugget of wisdom is rapidly being proven true, I fear. Still, things don't seem to be going all that bad this week. If you deduct the wrong address/interview fiasco and the "injuring myself while answering the phone" gaffe from my recent past life experience.)

Hm. There's supposed to be a lunar eclipse sometime tonight. Might be a good excuse for me to finally get off my butt and go outdoors. It's not like these amazing-yet-creepy celestial-type kinds of things happen every day (Unless you happen to live in the Book of Revelations or something). Ciao.

Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Today is not going well. I woke up to the sound of a phone call coming from my phone in the kitchen. Thinking it might be a call from a prospective employer or from Someone Really Important, I rushed out of bed and headed pell-mell towards the direction of the kitchen. Unfortunately, the brain chemicals which are responsible for keeping one's body still during sleep hadn't yet relinquished their hold on my muscles, so my trek to the kitchen resembled something more along the lines of a palsy victim attempting to walk across a bed of hot coals. In the final stretch, as I lunged for the phone, I slipped on the kitchen floor, grabbed the phone, pulled it out of the wall and broke the phone jack all in one extremely graceless motion. Was that an important phone call? Guess I'll never know now. Was it just a telemarketer? Well, if it was, I hope they die soon in some horrible manner involving a pack of rabid baboons, rusty tin can lids and an endless Facts of Life marathon. And a spoon. Because spoons are nice and dull. It will hurt more...

I'm going back to bed. (Yeah, I know. It's noon already. What of it? -__- ) Oh, and I just finished lettering the page of Elder Star I promised you for this week, so hopefully that will be posted soon. (See, it's not ALL bad news around here...)

Monday, May 12, 2003 - 3:27 pm

Well, the job interview went off, albeit, not without a few hitches. For one thing, on the way to the interview, I found myself having to drive at a snail's pace for most of the way behind a tractor towing a piece of construction equipment the size of Mount Rushmore. (Not a fortuitous thing to have happen when you're already running behind). For another thing, the address of the printing house, which I got from the internet (a.k.a The Fountain of Lies) turned out to be completely erroneous. I drove there only to find a church now occupying the premises. (Oh thank you, God. Thank you so bloody much. Why didn't you tell me YOU lived here?) I popped into a gas station and took a quick look at their payphone yellow pages to find the printing place's REAL address, which, it turns out, is located on 4th Ave. South. So I drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove and drove until I found a place which I THOUGHT was 4th Ave. S. But all it was was a pointless cul-de-sac which led to a scenic patch of suburbia located in the middle of nowhere. Turns out, what I had found WASN'T 4th Ave. S. It was S. 4th Ave. Big difference. You don't think so? I don't either. But apparently the drunken fucktards who laid out and designed this city thought so, and thanks to their keen insight (or to their extremely sadistic sense of humor) I now found myself good and lost and a least ten minutes late for my interview.

At some point, whilst I was stumbling through the suburban wasteland I was now lost in, I managed to locate a Tom Thumb and a phone, which I used to call up my prospective new employers and beg for directions. So much for my making a good first impression on them. They gave me some directions which were so vague in nature, that I'm surprised I managed to find the place without some sort of divine intervention. But find it I did. And with at least 40% of my sanity and dignity still intact. I knew this was going to be a looooong day.

The interview itself seemed to go rather well. It was basically a "who are you?" "why do you want to work here?" "are you going to jump ship on us if you find a better job elsewhere?" (the key to answering this question successfully is to lie, lie, lie, and then lie some more) and my personal favorite interview question, "Where do you want to see yourself in five years?" Well geez....Quite honestly? I want to see myself on the Isle of Bishounen, lying on a mattress full of money, having mango juice rubbed all over my tanned, size 6 body by the entire cast of Weiss Kreuz. That's where. Oh, but that's not the kind of answer you were looking for, was it, prospective employer? Oh, allright. I want to see myself working here for less money than you originally wanted to offer me. How's that? Do I got the job? Huh? Do I?

Well, AA, I can hear you all saying out there. Did they give you the job? ... Well....I wouldn't know. It turns out they're gonna get back to me on that. Sometime this week. Hopefully. We'll see.

God, I wish I had a rich husband...

Sunday, May 11, 2003 - 10:59 pm

I have to turn in early tonight, as I have yet another in what seems to be endless string of job interviews. It's for a temporary position at a local print shop where I shall, if hired, replace an employee (whom I presume is female) who will be going on maternity leave soon. It doesn't sound like much of a gig, and I'm not even sure what kind of wages they'd be willing to pay me, although at this point in my life, anything above "rocks and leaves" sounds like it'd be a good deal. *Sigh.* Stupid economy.

Oh, and it appears as if famed webmaster and pop-culture guru Toastyfrog has come down with an incurable case of Masochistic Geniusitis whereby he erroneously believes all he has written and published thus far in his life is crap and must be tucked away out of direct sight of the masses. And that he must somehow re-invent himself as an artist and keep doing so until he has reached a state of blissful self-actualization. I think he's nucking futs. I also think he's a tremendously talented individual who has enough going on upstairs to make a living from his artwork and writings (which he thankfully retained enough of his sanity to have archived here, for the benefit of his many fans) and that all this "ohmygod everything i do SUCKS" crap is just the fevered rambling of a mind traumatized by an insane world which seems, by it's very nature, designed to squeeze all the light, hope and self-esteem from the souls of anyone who possesses even a modicum of intelligence or talent.

That's my theory anyway. How else can I explain why so many of my favorite sites (Toastyfrog.com, Queen of Swords, Brunching Shuttlecocks) are suffering from a dearth of updates? (Uh, and Hamlet, too, admittedly, I say as I hang my head down in shame...)

*Sigh*