Remember Those Gaps in My Employment History? Gone!

30 07 2008

Back in the glory days of college when booze flowed like sweat trickling down summer’s hot ‘n staunchy armpit, not every day was saturated with humidity, but every day seemed to breed something a little sweaty.

During this phenomenal realm of buffoonery there were no jobs, no interviews, no shirts-tucked-in, no offices, no 9 to 5 with the incredible 10 to 6 flex, no bullpuckey questions from the ultimate agitators – HR. “If I was your manager, what type of relationship would we have? I want to learn about you. Can you tell me about the you that is you… the real you within, that is? (What I look for most in a supervisor is someone that will stand tall when I unleash an uppercut into their loins. Someone I can say “fuck off” to with a point and a smile when they ask me to engage in a pointlessly tedious task… all that good stuff.)

… and were back.

In the all-encompassing awesomeness of college, the time was merely now and that now was profoundly invigorating. Booties were shakin’, the earth was quakin’ and my only true worry was crispin’ the bacon.

Peeps would get hammed… Real hammered, and shit would break, and holes would suddenly form in the walls. (I remember the landlord, that nosey fuck of all fucknugs. He’d say, let me handle those types of situations. You let me know if something gets broken. Why? So you can los-jackos-the-rent when you’re done? No thanks, shitface. I got this one.)

Any hole in the wall was plastered with 18 tubes of tartar control toothpaste atop particle board – dappled with peppermint flavor crystals.

Those, truly were the days, but enough reminiscing. One can only look so far into to the past without delving into a gaping cre-vass.

Today’s days are now, and today’s days must include some sort of continuous income… but how? For months, I’ve waddled in this as if a penguin caught in an updraft of heinously chilled winds… and then it hit me – a profound revelation!

Perhaps the resume needs stitching… Patch up those gaps in your employment history like you were corking up the core of the earth (and porkin’ that whore from Fort Worth.)

Check out this heinous gap…

Unemployed: May 2007 – Present…

  • nothing
  • muffin
  • no wait… nothing

What happened there? Seems like a whole lot of nothing…. wait…. What’s that? WHAPOW! That gap just got sealed up something fierce, my friend! Shit was getting done during that time – for real. Those were productive times indeed.

Here’s what really went down (wink, nudge… roundhouse to the forehead, point)

EMployed: May 2007 – Present.

  • doin’ it
  • and doin’ it
  • and doin’ it, yeah!

(Wait… Where?)

What?

(Where? and what did you accomplish?)

What on earth are you asking – “where”…  “accomplish”? Are you with HR? That gap is my employment history is long gone, and that’s all you need to know.

And just as that atrocious gap has poofed into oblivion, so have the glory days of college. They are no more, but a mere memory. They are no more, but a gargantuan hole in the wall: patched up and smoothed over with rich, fresh and ever-so-prosperous peppermint flavor crystals.





I Reject Your Cake with Authority

2 07 2008

I don’t enjoy cake and that’s the scoop. It’s sticky. It’s sweet. It’s loaded with sugary shards of slop, and I’m not into it at all. So, if you choose to offer me a piece, I will kindly say, no thank you.

Naturally, you will insist and ask again… don’t be shy, have some cake… It’s really good! I’m sure you think it is, but I don’t. So, go ahead and ask me again, like you always do.

Try the cake, it’s simply divine! No thank you, I’m all set… More cake for everyone else!!!

Don’t get me wrong, even though I don’t enjoy cake, I’ll be there to celebrate your b-day, say “congrats” or “you’re the fuckin’ best”, but if you ask me a 3rd time, that sickening slice of chocolate cake is goin’ upside ya head with authority.

If you insist, but a fourth time, then not only will I reject your cake with authority – you’re getting dropped kicked across the fuckin’ room, bounced off the wall and into the cake.

No matter what kind of cake your offering, I’m just not interested – even if your little granny foo foo whipped up her award-winning recipe.