Yesterday, I decided that I wanted to work at a book store. I made the traditional Are You Hiring? calls to the three closest locations to discover that the furthest one away was the only one hiring. So be it.
The online application consisted of the standard employment questions that required me to dig through stacks of papers to find the phone number and address of past employers. There was, however, a 100 question self-evaluation, where I had to completely agree, agree, disagree, or completely disagree to statements about myself.
I love to play online poker, but I recently realized how much of a different person I become when things don’t go my way. Here is the chat log, verbatim (screen names changed):
Dealer: marids11 (button) showed 10cQs and won ($170.60) with a straight, Nine to King Seat 9: Youngman Brown showed KhKd and lost with three of a kind, Kings Youngman Brown: aslkjflaskjf Youngman Brown: WTF Youngman Brown: you call all the way down with a ****ing gutshot? Youngman Brown: what a ****ing donk marids11: hehehe ul Youngman Brown: unlucky my *** you idiot Youngman Brown: you just called your entire stack with a 4 outer Youngman Brown: I hope you get herpes.
The anger that flows from me is justified because this guy deserves to get verbally assaulted and that is a “bad beat” in any poker player’s book. What is surprising to me is my choice of ammunition.
Herpes? It’s not only mean, but it’s so… specific. Read more
This is a really shitty time to be a recent college graduate. Included in my current slew of unfinished books are The Secret and Think and Grow Rich, both of which stress the importance of positive thinking. But with the economy the way it is, it is all too easy to become a pessimist. As I see the stocks plunge and jobs being dropped, I can’t help but grow anxious for one particular job to become vacant – Bush’s. I’m sure he’s quite ready to retire as well. Perhaps he should take a hint from bin Laden and hide in a cave to escape the jobless masses, who are rightfully pointing the finger at him.
Or, like me, giving him the finger.
In my quest for a job, I can’t even count how many resumes I have sent out. What’s worse is the fact that I don’t even hear “We got your resume,” let alone, “Come in for an interview.” It’s insanely frustrating. Read more
One of my biggest guilty pleasures is Reality TV. I am not sure where my fascination began, but I think I can blame it on my ex-girlfriend, Annie, who forced me to sit down and watch The Bachelor. I know, I know. Why waste time watching a chauvinistic guy date multiple trashy and desperate women in one of the corniest situations imaginable. Such were my complaints. But like most other reality shows, it hooked me, and now I’m that guy that doesn’t miss an episode of the gayest show ever.
A far superior reality show, however, is Big Brother. For those who might not know what the show is about, think: the pointlessness of The Real World combined with the competitive structure of Survivor. Basically, it is just CBS picking the most insane and emotional individuals they can find and locking them in a house for three months and seeing if anyone kills each other. Last one standing gets half a million and the rest get their insecurities broadcasted to millions of people. By going on the show, you are agreeing to be at the mercy of CBS, who will edit you in the way they deem fit. You will be turned into the hero or the villain of the summer, depending how they think it will affect ratings. People’s lives have literally been ruined due to bad experiences on the show.
My father recently called me a millennial. Confused as to whether it was good or bad to be called such a thing by a parent, I inquired as to the meaning of his compliment/accusation.
“What are you calling me? A flower?”
“I was watching Dateline and they had an interesting piece on millennials. I think you should give it a watch.”
Ah, it all made sense.
Whenever one of his usual primetime programs isn’t on (Think: Boston Legal, Ugly Betty, etc.), my dad always turns to whatever else is on, rarely letting me or my mom get a chance to watch the Phillies game. Dateline or Sixty Minutes would almost always suffice, with whatever was being reported on being compelling enough for an hour of his time. Evidently, Dateline had reported on millennials. Whatever they were.
“I sent you the link, if you’d check your e-mail every once in a while.” Read more
Growing up, I spent all of my summers at the Jersey shore. While writing the standard “Have a great summer!” in my yearbook at the end of the school year, most of my peers would vocally portray their jealous hatred of my good fortune to be able to spend a full three months at the beach. I shrugged my shoulders, generally, telling them to make sure they contacted me if they were lucky enough to be able to get down there for a week’s vacation.
Inwardly, though, I was the envious one. I was the outcast – forcibly shipped off in the Station Wagon to spend a summer away from my friends, only to hear whimsical whimperings of what was “the best summer ever” on the first day back at school.
“I got to go to the beach every day,” I contributed. It was a lie. It took entirely too much effort to prepare for a day at the beach, with the getting changed, and the multiple applications of sunscreen, and the preparation of the cooler with all the drinks and food, and the hosing of the sand off of your body afterwards… it was all simply too much. But my classmates didn’t need to know that I despised my summers at the shore and I was content with them envisioning me splish-splashing my glorious summers away. Read more
As I get out of the shower at 4:30 AM, I come to the realization that I am living, as my father put it yesterday, “an unhealthy lifestyle.” You see, for the past three weeks, all I have basically done is sleep and play online poker. I no longer exercise. “The gym costs too much” and “The dumbells that I have aren’t heavy enough” are my excuses. While the first excuse is true, the second is a stretch. It should be edited to say “The dumbells that I have used to be too light when I was in shape.” I prefer to ignore such trivial details, however.
The fact of the matter is that I currently have two main activities and they both take up a great deal of time. And while poker cuts into my time to sleep, I try not to let sleep cut into my time for poker.
“You should start looking for a job,” my dad also tells me, but right now poker is my sole means of income. At least until “my job” starts.