Guys I have been totally Scroogin' it this week and I want to apologize. I've been going down an emotional spiral ever since I found out the following: 1.) Christmas is next week. WTF? When did that happen? I'm always horny for the holidays and I just can't get in the mood this year. Now I find out that I have less than a week to get it up?! I can't handle that kind of pressure and performance anxiety! 2.) Bing Crosby beat the sin out of his wife and was an all-around asshole. Yea, Bing Crosby. As in one of my favorite Christmas crooners of all time. Now every time I hear "White Christmas" the left side of my face hurts and I smell cheap whiskey and broken dreams. 3.) I have $46.98 in my bank account. This means that if I'm getting you a Christmas present this year, there's a 98% chance it will be made out of Popsicle sticks, cotton balls and Elmer's glue. 4.) Despite my best efforts and many interviews, it looks like I will remain unemployed through the holidays and into the New Year. That breaks my little soul into two equal pieces. And then pisses on those pieces. And then puts those piss-soaked pieces into a kiln to bake. And then I shall paint those pieces with tempera paint and give them away as gifts.
Man...the holidays are a really shitty time to feel like a big-fat-failure, what with all of the cheer and family newsletters people feel the need to "share." My mom was reading our neighbor's holiday newsletter to me tonight and I thought I was going to snap like a twig. Now isn't the best time to hear that Kari will be wrapping up her last semester at Law School after her wedding and Guy is using his extra retirement time to distill his own gin. That is unless Guy is giving me some of his distilled gin for free, and then I totally care. True story: upon hearing in a holiday newsletter tonight that some random friend of the family just had a new baby girl , I interrupted my mom with, "I HOPE IT WAS FUCKING BORN PREMATURE AND HAS A TINY HEAD AND A SPEECH IMPEDIMENT!!!" and stormed out. I don't really hope that. I just half-hope that. Because I think lisps are more adorable than kittens.
It's really not pretty though. I've spent the past week pretty much acting like when Ron Burgundy gets fired from the Channel 4 Evening News Team and stumbles around San Diego drinking milk and making fart noises with his mouth. I've increased my sleeping schedule tenfold. It's gone from house-cat to koala bear level. When I am awake, I just lay around my bed downloading apps for my iphone and feeling sorry for myself. It's pretty disguisting. (But my Tap-Tap-Revenge score is through the roof!)
I had a rude awakening today though. No it wasn't the screaming about premature babies and small heads that made me realize I'm acting like a complete asshole; I realized I skipped my blogging duties this week. Twice. I'd love to say I didn't blog last night because I was up late applying to more jobs or re-designing my resume. But that would be a lie. Because the truth of the matter is I was up late last night watching You Tube videos of "Bartending 101" and listening to old Beastie Boys singles in my bed. As rough as life seems, there's no reason for me to act like an anti-social 12-year-old boy from 1998. It's time to quit feeling sorry for myself and get back to my real life. And the first order of business: get in the Christmas spirit.
But how to do it? Making s'mores hasn't done it, watching Home Alone hasn't done it, picking out a Christmas tree hasn't done it...It's time to bring in the big guns. I need something that's going to pull mercilessly on my heart strings and kick me in the sentimental bone hard. I need a frog. And a pig. And a Gonzo. And a Michael Cane. I need The Muppet's Christmas Carol.
I talked a bit last year about how every Christmas Eve my family watches The Muppet's Christmas Carol and I weep like a small child in the arms of whoever will hold me. It's that God-damn frog. I think Kermit the Frog could sing "Dick in a Box" and I would get choked up and nostalgic. Kermit the Frog is essentially a puppet/amphibian version of Tim Gunn in my mind. But if anything is going to melt my black heart and fill me with holiday cheer, it's this movie. And a big 'ole Irish Coffee. Extra Irish.
So if you need a little help getting in the mood this year as well, let The Muppet's Christmas Carol be your Viagra. Take my hand, grab a box of tissues and let's get it on with The Muppet's Christmas Carol Drinking Game!
Rules! Take a Drink When: - Gonzo and Rizzo get into an argument - Someone says "Merry Christmas" - "Bah, humbug!" - They break into song - Someone complains about being hungry and/or cold - Beaker flips off Scrooge as he and Bunsen are leaving Scrooge's office - Jacob and Robert Marley (aka the Old Hecklers) laugh at their own jokes - Michael Cane gets a visit from a ghost (sidenote: could the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come not make me shit my pants out fright every year?) - THE BELL TOLLS ONE! - Tiny Tim has a coughing fit - Michael Cane gets teary-eyed - Tiny Tim dies, specifically when Kermit says the following: "Life is made up of meetings and partings. That is the way of it. I'm sure that we shall never forget Tiny Tim, or this first parting that there was among us." (Yes I did tear up just typing that...eff you.)
Finish Your Drink When: - They sing "The Love We Found" during the last scene and you're inevitably crying but trying to play off your tears by pretending to text message someone because grown adults don't cry and emotions are for losers. Damn. That. Frog.
Have a great weekend and look forward to a Becca post bright and early Monday morning! (Want your 2b1b fix over the weekend? Friend us on Twitter! Last weekend Twitter friends got to be the first to hear about Meg's drunken Britney Spears dancing shenanigans...come on, take the 5 seconds to make an account and follow us...www.twitter.com/2birds1blog) It won't suck that badly.
You know when life isn’t exactly going your way and things just build and build until something relatively insignificant happens and you snap like a twig? I snapped like a twig today. I totally lost my shit and I would like to thank the Google Gods from above for the “Save Draft” option on gmail.
This morning I was laying in bed searching through the new job postings on Craigslist feeling a wee bit frustrated with life when I happened upon this ad for a DC area Executive Assistant. Now, I sift through what feels like hundreds of ads for executive assistants everyday, so what made this ad so uniquely enraging, you might ask? You have to answer six obnoxious essay-like questions in addition to sending your resume and cover letter just to be CONSIDERED for a preliminary interview.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? FOR SERIOUSES?! How many hoops are you sons-of-bitches going to make me jump through just to answer your phone and alphabetize some files?! I don’t want to offend any executive assistants out there, I mean I’m desperate to join your ranks so mad respek to you and yours, but let’s all admit it’s not brain surgery. My blood boils when I think about the HR person writing this ad; all fat and cocky with his job devising hilarious ways to make this process more difficult. You’re not hiring Jack Bauer asshole, so there’s no need to have a screening process on par with Homeland Security’s.
We all know I consider writing cover letters to be just as inhumane as female circumcision, so you can understand why I lost it when I read this ad’s “short answer” section. I decided that if this jackhole really wants me to waste my time answering their irritating and unnecessary questions, then I was going to waste their time reading my honest and unnecessarily obnoxious answers:
1 - Describe your previous experiences as an EA. What have you enjoyed about being in that role? What negative experiences have you had? I’ve never officially been an executive assistant but I’ve run my life pretty well up until this point. I also have a lot of experience working for assholes on a power trip. Does that count? 2 - Are you currently employed? If not, why not? If so, why are you looking to change jobs? I am not currently employed. And are you seriously asking me why not? That’s like when people ask why I don’t have a boyfriend. If I knew what I was doing to prevent that from happening, I would have changed it by now asshole. Likewise on the job front.
3 - What responsibilities do you want, and what expectations do you have for your next job? I don't want any responsibility. It doesn’t really fit with where I am in my life right now. At least I’m mature enough to realize that. It’s why I think condoms are a good idea; I’m just not ready for the responsibility of a child. If I could use a giant job condom, I would. But only abstinence is100% effective, so maybe I’ll start practicing that in regards to my career too.
4 - What would your previous (and current) boss(es) say about you if I asked them what it was like to have you as their assistant? Really? You really want to play this game? Now who would really answer this question honestly? Let’s go down my resume, shall we?
Editor of magazine in NY: “Meghan who?”
Boss @ Paper Source: “Meg was a pretty good employee for the first year she worked here, but then she only worked Sundays and every time she came in was either still drunk, hung-over, or still drunk and hung-over. She was frequently wearing the outfit from the night before and smelled like Lindsay Lohan. When we had to separate her from various co-workers because all they did was quote A League of Their Own and make 90’s dance-pop mixes called “Now That’s What Paper Source Calls Music!” instead of actually helping customers, she stopped coming in all together out of spite. So did she finally OD or something?”
Director of the Gallery I interned for: “Meghan was well-dressed, good with computers and kind of snarky. Being an older gay man, I loved her.”
Editor of AmLit: “I thought Meg and I were totally tight until she hooked up with a friend of my boyfriend’s in the bathroom at my Christmas party last year and when I jokingly called her out on it a few months later never talked to me again because she was so painfully embarrassed. Although socially awkward, she was a good designer.”
Boss @ 3Citron: “Meg was the best freelance designer we’ve ever had. I am proud and honored to say that she is my sister. She is my reason for living. I strive to be more like her everyday.”
Boss @ NEST (green/organic home goods store): “Meghan ruined our natural cork floors by walking on them in 5” stilettos one day. Her carbon footprint was also astronomical. Bitch.”
5 - What are your salary requirements/expectations? Enough to move into my sister’s apartment so I can move out of my parent’s house and live like an adult again and she can go live in sin with her boyfriend.
6 - Tell me a bit about yourself (non work related info) so that I can get a feel for your personality. (Hobbies, interests, background, etc. - anything goes!) My name is Meghan. People have called me Meg ever since third grade when there were three Meghan’s in my class and Mrs. Dougherty told me to think of a nickname to make things less confusing. I don’t have any real goals or serious aspirations at the moment. I like thinking of harebrain schemes to avoid facing the real world, brunch is my favorite meal, I’ve never broken a bone, I’m awkward, I’m an Aires, I’ll do anything if I get a free commemorative t-shirt at the end, the only shots I’ll take are Jägermeisteror or Goldschläger, I want a Shina Ibu dog named Steve and a red-eared sliding turtle named Stanley, I’m agnostic, if it turns out there is a God, I wouldn’t be totally shocked if it’s Tim Gunn, I never answer my cell phone, I think I have ADD and/or it’s hyperactive cousin ADHD and every time I bring this up with my mom she says “probably” and then nothing ever happens about it, every time there’s an MTV "True Life" marathon on, I watch even though I’ve seen them all, if I could be reincarnated into anything it would be a house cat, the fact that I a.) went to Hawaii and hated it b.) don’t like burritos and c.) don’t watch Lost makes me feel like less of an American, I’m horrible at math, my go-to karaoke song is “Brandy” by Looking Glass, when I see a couple on the street I can’t help but think of them having sex later, I’m afraid of heights, I taught myself how to swim, my favorite champagne is Andre extra dry, the only movie I ever walked out of was The Brothers Grimm, Mr. Burns is my favorite Simpson’s character, I’m oddly good at kayaking, I need to get my tonsils and wisdom teeth out but won’t because I’m scared and I quit tennis camp when I was six because Shannon Mertz made fun of my volley.
So now that I've bared my soul and we’re best buddies, will you please let me organize your mail, allow you to talk down to me and silently resent you until I find a better job?
The Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead Drinking Game
Given this week’s personal financial kick in the groin, I feel like Sue Ellen Crandell in the movie Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead. Except in my case I’m not financially screwed because I left all of my money in a manila envelope on the corpse of my babysitter, but I left all of my hopes and dreams in a metaphorical manila envelope on the corpse of my college degree. Either way, both Sue El and I have to get high paying jobs and fast. (Also we both love tacky acrylic earrings and Jewish boys, but that is neither here nor there.)
I have officially given up on trying to find a job in graphic design (time to celebrate bitches!) and am now scrambling to find some schmo secretary job that will pay my (amassing) bills. Of course, although I can type 77wpm, am somewhat familiar with the alphabet and have a sexily raspy speaking voice perfect for answering phones, I have no “real” administrative experience making it impossible to get hired.
To solve this problem, I thought to myself “What would Sue El do?” and have already tried faking a resume, which as memory serves worked so well for her. However I’ve gotten crickets in response whereas Sue El in a stroke of fate runs into Rose Lindy, CEO of General Apparel West who hires her on the spot to avoid promoting her cunty receptionist Carolyn. Damn you Unibrows Applegate! Why is fate knocking on your door and not mine?! And how come she gets to date Brian the hot Clown Dog delivery boy (aka Jake from “In Treatment”…still a stud) whereas the closest thing to a relationship I have is a crush on that Latino kid from the AT&T stand in the mall?! UGHH…I’ll be trying on power-suits in a 90’s fashion montage if anyone needs me…
Rules of the Game Drink when: - Kenny is stoned or drunk - Sue Ellen is sketching her rad fashion designs or one of her sketches is shown - Gus hits on Sue Ellen - Carolyn is bitchy - One of the kids complains about being hungry - Walter is seen watching TV - An excuse is given as to why the babysitter isn’t there - Sue Ellen wears a half shirt, or conversely a mini-skirt - Someone buys something with the stolen petty cash - Sue El's token black friend does the running man across the cat-walk in the fashion show looking like she just shit her pants while wearing her "whipping up fun in the kitchen" chef's uniform, because that shit is LOLZ:
To get your 2b1b fix over the weekend, check out our catty thoughts live from the bar at http://twitter.com/2birds1blog. Maybe even take five seconds to make a twitter account and follow us because we need friends?...please be our friend...we'll pay you to be our friend...in sexual favors...it's all we can afford...but it's still worth the twitter account. Have a great weekend!
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