I've recently moved into a new house, and one of my new roommates has a cat. I like the cat, but every tiny thing he does drives me crazy. When he drinks out of my water glass or hops on the counter to get to the window sill, I can't take it. I don't want him knocking stuff over and getting his dirty cat paws all over the place I prepare my food. Since I'm home alone with him often, I think it behooves me (I'm behoven?) to keep him in line.
Contrast that to my sister's cat. I've known her for four years. Also, much of that time I didn't actually live with her and was never responsible for her in any way. Because of that, if she's on the counter when I come over, I don't think that's gross; I think, "Wow, she looks very regal up there." If I was a good person, I would help train her, too, but we already know that I am not.
The same goes for my city. Being from Duluth, I am allowed to rag on its weather, lack of activities in the winter, job market, etc. However, if an outsider starts bagging on my city, I want to tell them to, "Ride your polo horse back to your gilded mansion with your pool filled with caviar and jet skis and never come back! Dick!" Why? Because they don't also appreciate how awesome Duluth really is.
Friendship works in a similar way. When I go out with my buddies and one of us (oftentimes, me) gets out of line, we largely let it slide and it is completely forgotten the next day. One time at the U, a couple buddies told me I could go pleasure myself, left me at a party and locked me out of my own dorm room after the girl I was making out with tried to punch them for some reason. All we could do was laugh about it the next day. On the other hand, if a stranger looks at one of us the wrong way, we want to fight them. We generally don't because we don't want to get arrested or get our faces caved in, but still.
The point is, loyalty matters. In a perfect world, things would probably even out a bit between the ones we know and the ones we don't but...oh, my sister's cat is standing up on her hind legs like a ferret! She is HILARIOUS!!!
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
Me Hungover, Trying to Save Myself
(It is 1:32 AM, at the tail end of a night out just like many others before it. The following day, an extremely hungover Tom has acquired a time machine, and is attempting to prevent the inevitable sickness which is soon to follow.)
Drunk Tom: Jesus, you are handsome. Who are you?
Hungover Tom: It's me, you idiot! I'm you!
DT: Whoa...I didn't think I was that drunk. Usually my illusions are large women somehow looking small, but nothing like this.
HT: I'm not an illusion. I somehow found a time machine and I'm trying to prevent us from making a terrible mistake.
DT: Calling our exes?
HT: No...well, yes, don't do that, but that's not what I mean. Don't drink anymore tonight!
DT: Why not? I feel amazing! I'm impervious to the affects of alcohol!
HT: Yeah, well I feel awful. I feel like microwaved garbage. I feel like I was drop kicked into a pile of glass. Besides, do you even know what impervious means right now.
DT: ...sex?
HT: Wow. Seriously, it's not worth it. You won't have any more fun, you will probably get angry, and you will pass out immediately when you get home.
DT: Nope. Imma keep drinking so I am confident enough to talk to some of the LAAAAY-DIEES!!!
HT: But you won't! You're going to play half a game of shufflepuck, lose your friends and walk home!
DT: Go away, you're no fun.
(In the background, "Shots, shots, shots-shots-shot-shots!")
DT: EVREEEEEEE-BODAAAAY!
HT: I give up.
DT: Where are you going?
HT: I'm going to go back in time and try to help College Tom get laid more than once in a blue moon.
DT: That sounds even more hopeless than this.
HT: True. Well, I feel like I'm going to throw up. Jackass.
DT: Love you, too!
Drunk Tom: Jesus, you are handsome. Who are you?
Hungover Tom: It's me, you idiot! I'm you!
DT: Whoa...I didn't think I was that drunk. Usually my illusions are large women somehow looking small, but nothing like this.
HT: I'm not an illusion. I somehow found a time machine and I'm trying to prevent us from making a terrible mistake.
DT: Calling our exes?
HT: No...well, yes, don't do that, but that's not what I mean. Don't drink anymore tonight!
DT: Why not? I feel amazing! I'm impervious to the affects of alcohol!
HT: Yeah, well I feel awful. I feel like microwaved garbage. I feel like I was drop kicked into a pile of glass. Besides, do you even know what impervious means right now.
DT: ...sex?
HT: Wow. Seriously, it's not worth it. You won't have any more fun, you will probably get angry, and you will pass out immediately when you get home.
DT: Nope. Imma keep drinking so I am confident enough to talk to some of the LAAAAY-DIEES!!!
HT: But you won't! You're going to play half a game of shufflepuck, lose your friends and walk home!
DT: Go away, you're no fun.
(In the background, "Shots, shots, shots-shots-shot-shots!")
DT: EVREEEEEEE-BODAAAAY!
HT: I give up.
DT: Where are you going?
HT: I'm going to go back in time and try to help College Tom get laid more than once in a blue moon.
DT: That sounds even more hopeless than this.
HT: True. Well, I feel like I'm going to throw up. Jackass.
DT: Love you, too!
Monday, May 16, 2011
Winning Time
As someone who has applied for and interviewed for numerous jobs, I have acquired some knowledge on how the game works. Since I'm nothing if I'm not giving, I thought I would take time out of my busy schedule to share some tips with all of you.
Bring it in For the Real Thing
Handshakes haven't been cool since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny effing Kaye. Companies fancy themselves as families, and you want to be a member of their family. When you stride into the room, bear hug the interviewer like he's the commish of the NFL and you're the number one pick. I guarantee all of the other douchers gunning for the same job will be doling out limp wristed clammy handshakes. You 1, Competition 0.
Avoid Eye Contact
Whoever (Whomever? Just kidding; I don't care.) is interviewing you is clearly in a position of power. They like the feeling of being in control. If you try to look them in the eye, they will feel threatened and offended. Look as meek as possible. You are the clay, and they have the able hands which will mold you into a dynamo. Never forget that.
References Count
Usually the person interviewing you doesn't know you personally. Choosing the correct references is of the utmost importance. Your bookie knows your reliable, your dealer knows you have discerning taste and your sponsor knows you can tell time. Use them.
Stand Out on Paper
Everyone does their resumes on stupid white paper. BOOOO-RING! Go with either bright orange or fluorescent green, the type of paper usually reserved for rummage sales flyers. Guaranteed you get noticed!
Follow Up
The process isn't over when you leave the interview room. Make sure you send a letter afterwards. An angry, threatening letter. Let them know you are serious about getting that position and if you have to, you can find out where they live.
I hope this helped. I know I have the brightest, best-looking readers on the internet, so I trust that you now know what to do. Grab the world by the plums and be all you can be!
Bring it in For the Real Thing
Handshakes haven't been cool since Bing Crosby tap danced with Danny effing Kaye. Companies fancy themselves as families, and you want to be a member of their family. When you stride into the room, bear hug the interviewer like he's the commish of the NFL and you're the number one pick. I guarantee all of the other douchers gunning for the same job will be doling out limp wristed clammy handshakes. You 1, Competition 0.
Avoid Eye Contact
Whoever (Whomever? Just kidding; I don't care.) is interviewing you is clearly in a position of power. They like the feeling of being in control. If you try to look them in the eye, they will feel threatened and offended. Look as meek as possible. You are the clay, and they have the able hands which will mold you into a dynamo. Never forget that.
References Count
Usually the person interviewing you doesn't know you personally. Choosing the correct references is of the utmost importance. Your bookie knows your reliable, your dealer knows you have discerning taste and your sponsor knows you can tell time. Use them.
Stand Out on Paper
Everyone does their resumes on stupid white paper. BOOOO-RING! Go with either bright orange or fluorescent green, the type of paper usually reserved for rummage sales flyers. Guaranteed you get noticed!
Follow Up
The process isn't over when you leave the interview room. Make sure you send a letter afterwards. An angry, threatening letter. Let them know you are serious about getting that position and if you have to, you can find out where they live.
I hope this helped. I know I have the brightest, best-looking readers on the internet, so I trust that you now know what to do. Grab the world by the plums and be all you can be!
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Frequently Asked Questions
Now that I've been doing this for awhile, some of my half dozen readers have questions about the blog every now and then. I thought I'd try to answer some of them tonight.
Q: Why do you write something that nobody reads?
A: It helps quiet the voices.
Q: Why so many posts lately?
A: I can't get my book published until there is enough material. Just kidding; I have a better chance of making the NBA than ever getting a book published.
Q: What inspires you to write?
A: Either a desire to make the world a better place or because I like making fun of Mel Gibson and talking about beer. I will let you decide which is the real reason.
Q: Is "The Summer of Tom" crap true?
A: Sadly, yes. I actually believed each summer was going to be "my" summer, and was sorely disappointed each time.
Q: Did you just link your own post?
A: Yes.
Q: Have you no shame?
A: No.
Q: Didn't you used to write about sports?
A: I did. I still love sports as much as ever, but way too many people write about sports already. Why read my thoughts when real-life qualified writers have thoughts on it? On the other hand, I don't see a lot of posts on the best beer to drink in the shower or poetry about Tim Brewster. Plus, this is more fun.
Q: How many of these questions have actually been asked?
A: Probably 2.
Q: Why do you write something that nobody reads?
A: It helps quiet the voices.
Q: Why so many posts lately?
A: I can't get my book published until there is enough material. Just kidding; I have a better chance of making the NBA than ever getting a book published.
Q: What inspires you to write?
A: Either a desire to make the world a better place or because I like making fun of Mel Gibson and talking about beer. I will let you decide which is the real reason.
Q: Is "The Summer of Tom" crap true?
A: Sadly, yes. I actually believed each summer was going to be "my" summer, and was sorely disappointed each time.
Q: Did you just link your own post?
A: Yes.
Q: Have you no shame?
A: No.
Q: Didn't you used to write about sports?
A: I did. I still love sports as much as ever, but way too many people write about sports already. Why read my thoughts when real-life qualified writers have thoughts on it? On the other hand, I don't see a lot of posts on the best beer to drink in the shower or poetry about Tim Brewster. Plus, this is more fun.
Q: How many of these questions have actually been asked?
A: Probably 2.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Honest Resume
JOSEPH BLOW
Cell: 218-555-1234 (I only respond to texts)
Email: jblow69@hotmail.com
Education
University of Wisconsin (Party U!!!)
Degree: Communications
Major: Kicking Ass
Activities: Sleeping...eating?
Accomplishments: School-record keg stand, somehow graduating with only 25% class attendance, making out with that one hot chick from down the hall freshman year.
Work Experience
Parking Attendant, UW
Responsibilities: Naps, letting my friends park for free, occasionally doing homework
Reason for Leaving: I was fairly certain I was going to be fired real soon, so I jetted and beat them to the punch.
Store Clerk, Wal-Mart
Responsibilities: Stealing tons of food (seriously, I didn't buy groceries for a year), making fun of our customers behind their backs, hitting on the one fairly attractive girl who worked there
Reason for Leaving: I felt the work was beneath me. You have to let a bird spread its wings and fly, ya know?
Getting an Allowance
Responsibilities: None. I did nothing yet my parents still tossed me $15 a week. Suckers.
Reason for Leaving: Left for college, although I will probably go back if you don't hire me. Please hire me. Please?
References
"Supersize" Smith, roommate freshman year
My Mommy
Cell: 218-555-1234 (I only respond to texts)
Email: jblow69@hotmail.com
Education
University of Wisconsin (Party U!!!)
Degree: Communications
Major: Kicking Ass
Activities: Sleeping...eating?
Accomplishments: School-record keg stand, somehow graduating with only 25% class attendance, making out with that one hot chick from down the hall freshman year.
Work Experience
Parking Attendant, UW
Responsibilities: Naps, letting my friends park for free, occasionally doing homework
Reason for Leaving: I was fairly certain I was going to be fired real soon, so I jetted and beat them to the punch.
Store Clerk, Wal-Mart
Responsibilities: Stealing tons of food (seriously, I didn't buy groceries for a year), making fun of our customers behind their backs, hitting on the one fairly attractive girl who worked there
Reason for Leaving: I felt the work was beneath me. You have to let a bird spread its wings and fly, ya know?
Getting an Allowance
Responsibilities: None. I did nothing yet my parents still tossed me $15 a week. Suckers.
Reason for Leaving: Left for college, although I will probably go back if you don't hire me. Please hire me. Please?
References
"Supersize" Smith, roommate freshman year
My Mommy
Saturday, April 16, 2011
A Day in the Life of an Unemployed College Grad
9:45 AM: He wakes up, rolls over, and checks the time. He really should get up so he can get an early jump on job applications. On the other hand, some more sleep sounds really nice…
11:37 AM: Zzzzzzzzzz….
12:59 PM: Time to get up. He would get started on those applications right away, but he is starving, so a quick Mickey D’s run is in order first. 10 CCs of Big Mac, stat!
1:47 PM: He checks the mail, only to find yet another “I regret to inform you” (Read: Go screw yourself; people more talented than you also applied for this job) letters from one of the jobs he has applied for.
1:48 – 2:37 PM: Shame spiral. Nearly an hour solid of self-loathing, consisting of: wondering why he isn’t good enough for any damned jobs, cursing his choice of such a generic major, thinking about going to law school, considering becoming a crab fisherman or ice road truck driver.
2:38 PM: Forgets all of his current problems once he realizes Steve Wilkos is on.
2:52 PM: “GET OFF MY STAGE!!!!!!!"
3:35 PM: Naptime.
4:47 PM: Time to finally think about some self-grooming. Contacts instead of glasses? Yes. Shower? Maybe. Shave? Absolutely not.
6:01 PM: He calls that girl he drunkenly met a week ago to see if she wants to hang out sometime soon. No answer. No worries though. He has tried calling her a couple times in the last couple of days with no luck. She’s obviously just been busy. He just leaves a witty voicemail ("You must be tied up because my stomach's in knots waiting for you to call back. Get it? Knots? Tied up? Anyway, I'm just chilling at the pad, so call whenever's good for you. Lates. T-Bone, signing off!") so that she can call him back and work something out. They hit it off really well that night. I mean, she said he should call her, right? Right?
6:45 PM: No callback yet. No big.
7:38 PM: Still no word from her.
8:04 PM: NOT EVEN A TEXT?!?!?!?!
8:57 PM: After swearing off all women forever, it is time for him to dive into an intense and potentially friendship-ending game of Tiger Woods golf on the 360.
10:32 PM: 18 holes, 8 beers, half a bag of pretzels and one sweet victory later, he realizes he still hasn’t searched for or applied for a single job all day. He can do that now, of watch Super Troopers for the seventy-seventh time.
10:38 PM: "You boys like MEX-EEEEEE-CO?!?!?!?!?!”
12:17 AM: Finally time to get down to business. “Get down to business” meaning quickly and half-drunkenly slapping together an application for a job he isn’t really qualified for and doesn’t really want.
1:57 AM: After some late night TV watching, it is time to hit the sack. He makes sure to set his alarm for 9:00 AM, because tomorrow is definitely going to be a productive day.
11:37 AM: Zzzzzzzzzz….
12:59 PM: Time to get up. He would get started on those applications right away, but he is starving, so a quick Mickey D’s run is in order first. 10 CCs of Big Mac, stat!
1:47 PM: He checks the mail, only to find yet another “I regret to inform you” (Read: Go screw yourself; people more talented than you also applied for this job) letters from one of the jobs he has applied for.
1:48 – 2:37 PM: Shame spiral. Nearly an hour solid of self-loathing, consisting of: wondering why he isn’t good enough for any damned jobs, cursing his choice of such a generic major, thinking about going to law school, considering becoming a crab fisherman or ice road truck driver.
2:38 PM: Forgets all of his current problems once he realizes Steve Wilkos is on.
2:52 PM: “GET OFF MY STAGE!!!!!!!"
3:35 PM: Naptime.
4:47 PM: Time to finally think about some self-grooming. Contacts instead of glasses? Yes. Shower? Maybe. Shave? Absolutely not.
6:01 PM: He calls that girl he drunkenly met a week ago to see if she wants to hang out sometime soon. No answer. No worries though. He has tried calling her a couple times in the last couple of days with no luck. She’s obviously just been busy. He just leaves a witty voicemail ("You must be tied up because my stomach's in knots waiting for you to call back. Get it? Knots? Tied up? Anyway, I'm just chilling at the pad, so call whenever's good for you. Lates. T-Bone, signing off!") so that she can call him back and work something out. They hit it off really well that night. I mean, she said he should call her, right? Right?
6:45 PM: No callback yet. No big.
7:38 PM: Still no word from her.
8:04 PM: NOT EVEN A TEXT?!?!?!?!
8:57 PM: After swearing off all women forever, it is time for him to dive into an intense and potentially friendship-ending game of Tiger Woods golf on the 360.
10:32 PM: 18 holes, 8 beers, half a bag of pretzels and one sweet victory later, he realizes he still hasn’t searched for or applied for a single job all day. He can do that now, of watch Super Troopers for the seventy-seventh time.
10:38 PM: "You boys like MEX-EEEEEE-CO?!?!?!?!?!”
12:17 AM: Finally time to get down to business. “Get down to business” meaning quickly and half-drunkenly slapping together an application for a job he isn’t really qualified for and doesn’t really want.
1:57 AM: After some late night TV watching, it is time to hit the sack. He makes sure to set his alarm for 9:00 AM, because tomorrow is definitely going to be a productive day.
Friday, April 15, 2011
The Summer of Tom
Now that summer is just around a few more corners, I am reminded of an old ritual from my past. At the dawn of each new summer, for three or four years running, I would tell my buddy Aaron that the upcoming season would be The Summer of Tom.
Why? Well, I stole the idea from George Costanza. The Summer of George was an unmitigated disaster, so I'm not sure why this was the idea I chose to steal. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.
Predictably, the SOTs always were sorely disappointing. It's not to say that my summers were horrible, but when you name a season after yourself, you have extremely high hopes. How high? Lemme tell ya.
Jacked, Tanned, and Ready to Party
I dislike working out. Once I pull my fat ass to the gym, I'm fine. The problem is the whole forcing myself to go. The couch and 12 oz. curls are more appealing to me than a bench and 25 lbs. curls. Still, Duluth has Park Point and Park Point has scores of women. I wanted in on some of that action, but I needed some honey to attract those flies. Wait, that didn't sound right. I needed to look fly to attract the honeys. Yeah, that's it. Unfortunately, my goals of looking like this always turned out like this.
Pimpin' All Over the World
(Quick Tangent: I always loved the song and video for "Pimpin' All Over the World", but Luda picked the 50th best looking girl in the video. He's pimpin' ALL over the world! You can do better, Luda. Back to the nonsense.)
Even during the SOTs I was somewhat realistic about my prospects with females. Still, the season was named after me! I had to get somewhat lucky. Unfortunately, women don't flock to the golf course or my living room. Plus, the bar never works for me because I'm either too shy to approach anyone or too drunk to be coherent. It's less than ideal. Point is, I did not get any action. What did I think it was, November? (Inside joke.)
Ruling the World With an Iron Fist
I was in college during the SOTs, so I knew I wouldn't be thrust into an important position at a Fortune 500 company. That said, I figured I would finally score the internship which would lead to the full-time position which would lead to promotions which would lead to this. After all, I know what it takes to be successful in the corporate world. So what jobs did I have during those summers? I was a Bellman, a Guest Services Representative and a failed Insurance Agent. Damnit.
A few years ago, I finally gave up. Why set myself up to fail? I realize the Summers of Tom (Summer of Toms?) were a failure, and that I had much too high expectations for them. Still, I don't regret a thing. To be the best or to have the best, you need to want the best. George Costanza knew that, and so do I. At least I did.
This has been a good year, so I really shouldn't jinx it. Why tempt fate again? Ah screw it.
June-September 2011 shall be THE SUMMER OF TOM!!!
Why? Well, I stole the idea from George Costanza. The Summer of George was an unmitigated disaster, so I'm not sure why this was the idea I chose to steal. I guess I'm a glutton for punishment.
Predictably, the SOTs always were sorely disappointing. It's not to say that my summers were horrible, but when you name a season after yourself, you have extremely high hopes. How high? Lemme tell ya.
Jacked, Tanned, and Ready to Party
I dislike working out. Once I pull my fat ass to the gym, I'm fine. The problem is the whole forcing myself to go. The couch and 12 oz. curls are more appealing to me than a bench and 25 lbs. curls. Still, Duluth has Park Point and Park Point has scores of women. I wanted in on some of that action, but I needed some honey to attract those flies. Wait, that didn't sound right. I needed to look fly to attract the honeys. Yeah, that's it. Unfortunately, my goals of looking like this always turned out like this.
Pimpin' All Over the World
(Quick Tangent: I always loved the song and video for "Pimpin' All Over the World", but Luda picked the 50th best looking girl in the video. He's pimpin' ALL over the world! You can do better, Luda. Back to the nonsense.)
Even during the SOTs I was somewhat realistic about my prospects with females. Still, the season was named after me! I had to get somewhat lucky. Unfortunately, women don't flock to the golf course or my living room. Plus, the bar never works for me because I'm either too shy to approach anyone or too drunk to be coherent. It's less than ideal. Point is, I did not get any action. What did I think it was, November? (Inside joke.)
Ruling the World With an Iron Fist
I was in college during the SOTs, so I knew I wouldn't be thrust into an important position at a Fortune 500 company. That said, I figured I would finally score the internship which would lead to the full-time position which would lead to promotions which would lead to this. After all, I know what it takes to be successful in the corporate world. So what jobs did I have during those summers? I was a Bellman, a Guest Services Representative and a failed Insurance Agent. Damnit.
A few years ago, I finally gave up. Why set myself up to fail? I realize the Summers of Tom (Summer of Toms?) were a failure, and that I had much too high expectations for them. Still, I don't regret a thing. To be the best or to have the best, you need to want the best. George Costanza knew that, and so do I. At least I did.
This has been a good year, so I really shouldn't jinx it. Why tempt fate again? Ah screw it.
June-September 2011 shall be THE SUMMER OF TOM!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
