NYC Story of the Day – 10/27/09

Let’s begin this latest entry by quoting the great Romantic poet Robert Burns:

The best laid plans of mice and men usually end up getting tossed aside for a quick nap or a few hours googling the names of middle school enemies.

Of course, I’m paraphrasing, but I think his words still hold water. What the fine Scotsman was trying to say is no matter how dedicated you are to an idea, or how hard you prepare, you’re probably going to say “Screw it,” and go watch Hard Rain on Netflix. The man was a revolutionary, ahead of his time.

So, logically, it follows that I am just like Robert Burns: An exceptionally gifted person that just can’t get it together. What’s that you say? Robert Burns was wildly successful and you’re just lazy? Oh, well color me embarrassed.

Almost four months into the New York experiment and things are not quite following my best laid plans. I am not entirely sure what those plans were, but they certainly didn’t involve sitting in a Starbucks all day binge drinking espresso. I could do that in Kentucky, and at least then I wouldn’t have a random 13 year old kid calling me a faggot on the street. Well, that could happen in the Bluegrass, but that’s just heresy at this point.

I spend most of my days job searching, still. What I somehow forgot to remember is that ten percent of this city is also looking for work. No matter how much education I have, or how over-qualified I am for the job, there’s always twenty recently laid off stock brokers applying for the same position. Thankfully, it’s only twenty. It would have been much worse if the other Wall Streeters hadn’t plunged off the Williamsburg Bridge.

I feel like I’m starting this with too much negativity, which is not my intention. I do not regret moving to this city. In fact, it is still the best decision I have ever made. What has happened here is simply further proof that real life hardly ever matches up to the future you’ve mapped out in your head. For me, I envisioned a city that handed out careers once you stepped foot off the tarmac. Call it Midwestern gullibility, call it flat-out stupidity, but my optimism was genuine. If Kenneth Parcell has taught me anything, it’s not to vote Republican or Democrat, because choosing is a sin. Always just write in the Lord’s name. And if he taught me something else, it’s that even country boys can make it in the big city.

And I’m going to leave my complaining at that. The job will come when it comes. No need to expound any further. That’s the last you’ll hear of this. Instead, I’m going to try and tell a story every couple of days. To begin, here’s an interesting tidbit about my first month here:

My one month stay in Brooklyn was an experience. I am not entirely sure how to explain how odd it was without sounding like a liar. It felt like I was living in an Orwell novel — a character being carefully watched, studied, toyed with, by some unseen figurehead. I rented out a room in Prospect Heights from a teacher headed off for a European adventure. When I first visited the apartment, his two roommates were not around, so when they finally came home, I was going to be the strange man eating Pringles on their couch. There was to be no formal “How do you do’s,” no “Nice to meet ya’s” –  just a handing over of keys and a “Have a good month” from the one person I wasn’t going to live with. I was informed that the two other residents were hardly home due to work, and I took this to mean they would eventually come home in the late afternoon. After a few days in the place, not once did I see another person. There was no commotion from their rooms, no clatter in the kitchen, nothing. This wasn’t incredibly disconcerting, because I was gone most of the time as well. Just several days of bad timing for proper introductions.

To settle their possibly troubled minds about the random guy sleeping in the next room, I left a note in the kitchen saying who I was, and that it will be nice to finally meet. One morning, I found the note with fresh ink at the bottom. It read, “Nice to meet you.” That’s it. The man/woman/child/thing with proper penmanship had met me through kitchen table correspondence. Was this to be the extent of our communication? Every night, I’d write down the trials and tribulations of my day on scrap paper, and in the morning I’d find their response, something like, “You and me both, brother!”

Days turned into weeks, and even with my staying at home more often, not one time did I stumble upon a roommate. I started to draft conspiracy theories, the next more absurd than the last. The most unrealistic one involved my taking part in a scientific study. I was now involved in some PhD student’s thesis entitled, “The Phantom Roommate: Are We Ever Truly Alone?” There were cameras in that room, hidden in the futon and record collection. I found myself staring at the ceiling, listening for any sounds of movement that weren’t the screams of the mother of eight next door. At times, I heard rustling about in the bedrooms, and I’d make a habit of making loud noises in the kitchen, as to make them scatter out into the world. But nothing. These people were a myth, or they were simply uninterested in an awkward introduction.

This had to be just as unnerving for them as it was for me. I was there for five weeks. FIVE WEEKS! They played a game of hide and seek in the comfort of their own home for 35 days. You read that right — I lived in a smallish apartment for an entire month and not once did I meet the two other people living there. On my last day, I packed up all my stuff, left the keys on the mantle, and concluded their scientific study by leaving one last note. It read:

Thanks for letting me use your shower.

Love, Matthew

I never heard from the guy after that. I imagine two possible scenarios for the day he returned. His roommates told him a bold-faced lie; that we had a great month bonding over our mutual appreciations. But what’s more likely is they told him I was the weird guy that did weird things in his room. “I’m telling you, bro. We heard weird things coming from the room, inhuman noises, like death rattles muffled by bubble wrap.” I suppose I’m lucky he sent me my deposit. I mean, I did wash his sheets.

More stories to come. Probably.

Two Sentence Review – Anvil: The Story of Anvil

Bromancing the Stone

If there was ever a movie about a guy who plays guitar with a dildo that deserves an Oscar, it’s this one. Watch it with your bruhs, but be prepared to hug, cry, and profess your undying devotion to each other.

Obama Wins the Nobel Peace Prize

DUBLIN — Sources are now saying that U2 lead singer Bono, apparently dejected over his latest snub, has not left the bathtub since  Barack Obama was announced as this year’s Nobel Peace Prize recipient. Fears are increasing within his compound that severe pruning has more than likely already set in.  Said one of several live-in maids/concubines, who wished to remain anonymous, “If Mr. Bono does not soon remove his dwarf-ish frame from the water filled with his own mess, we are worried he may become permanently adhered to the porcelain.” Many believed this was to be the year he was finally awarded the prestigious award. For years, Bono has battled for world peace, fought hunger, disease, and famine, but not once has Mr. Nobel’s grand prize bared his name. “What’s a dirty mick gotta do to win some (redacted) awards around here,” he was once misquoted as saying. Year after year, his name was near of the top of the list of nominees, giving him hope, but this year’s backbreaking loss may finally be the year to officially kill Bono’s spirit. Through the bathroom door, he could be heard mumbling, “I’m going to Africa with a truck full of food, and I’m going to eat all of it in front of a village of starving toddlers, I swear to God…….With or without youuuuuuuuuu, I can’t liiiiiiiiiive, WITH OR WITHOUT YOU, OHHHHH!”  Let’s hope this is one promise that he does not fulfill. The SWAT team has been called to the home, and if they cannot remove his pale fanny from the deep, dark waters of his troubled soul, then there may be no saving the troubled troubadour. Keep your fingers crossed on what was supposed to be a day for celebrating peace and compassion.

Ignorance is Bliss, and It Will Get You Arrested.

I was gullible a large portion of my life. I’ve become much more aware over the years that sometimes, perhaps, just maybe, people may not be telling the complete truth. It was astonishingly bad in my early years. Example: When I was in grade school, someone convinced me that Hulk Hogan had been literally squashed to death by Andre the Giant. I cried all day, lamenting the loss of one of my heroes, just knowing that his casket would be no more than 6 inches tall. He had been flattened like a pancake; my friend Ryan saw it happen. So when the Hulkster showed up on television the next week — standing tall, 24-inch pythons and everything — I knew that I had been duped. Fool me once…..

Things definitely improved as the years went by — years of playing “Hey, Look” definitely helped. You know that game, right? It’s where you make a circle with your fingers below your waist, and if you can get your friends to look directly at it, that somehow gave you the right to punch them. “You looked where I requested you to look. You gave me your trust and I threw it in the garbage. Sucker.” *punch, high five, giddy laughter*

After years of recovering from bruised upper arms, I became more cynical, more aware of how the real world works. People, no matter how wonderful they usually are, can be deceitful. If it seems unreasonable, or too good to be true, then perhaps it is. Take a timeout, let the facts sink in for a moment. Does the 350 lb. guy hitting on you work for the Navy Seals? Did Jessica Alba really respond to your “Missed Connections” ad? Can our black president really be a member of the Nazi Party? Nope, no chance, and definitely not.

There are moments when this outlook doesn’t work out. You can miss out on fantastic opportunities if you aren’t on your game. In high school, an older girl in my art class told me that I was cute, I responded by laughing in her face. I was only protecting myself, or so I thought. This just led to being called, pardon the language, “that fag that giggles like a girl” all semester. That’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, but I also could have fired the first shots of the Sexual Revolution much sooner than I did. C’est la vie.

So what is the purpose of this essay, you may have asked yourself three paragraphs ago?

It seems that New York City, or more specifically, it’s various con artists, think I’m an idiot. Not once, but twice in the last week, I’ve had to go, “Heeeeeeeey, now, that can’t possibly be true.” What’s especially upsetting here is both of them pertained to possible jobs, something of high importance at the moment. These jackaloons are getting my hopes up, and it’s leaving me a smidge more cynical than before. I might, just might, feel better about this if they weren’t so glaringly obvious in their attempts at duping me. Give me some credit. I mean, I sent you my resume, you know that I’ve been to school. Come on.

To properly highlight what level of criminals I’m dealing with here, let me show what has been sent to me.

First, I applied to a Craiglist ad (note: I’m VERY particular about which jobs I apply for on this website. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. But this one actually looked legit. That’s on me.) for a sales job at a “publishing company” in Queens. The very next day (which is a bad sign on it’s own, it should be weeks before you hear back) I received a phone call AND an email from someone at this company. The voicemail they left gave me hope. In retrospect, this makes me the angriest. The woman sounded professional, left a phone number with an extension, and sounded optimistic about meeting me. Awesome. But then the same woman sent me an email five minutes later, basically saying verbatim what she said in the voicemail. Why was she so adamant about meeting me if they were “interviewing several people today?” This was my cue to look into this company. I typed in the company name, leading me to an official website. Again, looked legitimate. It was a fully functional site with tons of news links and places to go. I breathed a sigh of relief, and was about to pick up the phone to call her back. But then I saw the second link on the Google search. It went to Ripoff Report, a site where scorned consumers can warn others of fraudulent companies. Fantastic. Here was one posting on the site:

“They run credit cards illegally all day w/o consent.  They will lie to you and say they record conversations and that you agreed and run your credit card.  If your CC is expired they will run the #’s and guess the expiration date, since CC companies do not give you a new number when your card expires.  The owners are rich as hell and brag about everything they have and buy.  They will hold employees paychecks, cheat you on taxes, and make you pay $50 a week for their crappy medical insurance.

P.S.  If you do not sell at least $2,000 a week, you get $0 salary!”

Wait, they’re is medical insurance? Where do I sign up?!? Getting my yearly colonoscopy would totally be worth getting arrested for fraud. No doubt.

This wasn’t the only entry complaining of these practices. There were dozens, all saying the exact same thing. This sales job entailed calling people everyday, typically senior citizens, verbally berating them until they agreed to sign up, and then charging them ten times more than they agreed to. I’m still not sure what it is they actually sell. I think it’s a Who’s Who of the business world type thing, but it’s full of nothing but retired people. Confounding stuff. So, yeah, I didn’t get back to them. Of course, she called again this morning. My guess is people don’t last long at this job, which is why she’s so desperate to get me on the phone. No dice, dollface. I certainly need a job, but I also need to not hate myself. Hit me up in a few months, I may have changed my perspective by then.

The final chapter on our journey to the center of stupidity involves Hotjobs, which I assumed was more legitimate than an open forum like Craigslist. Boy, was I wrong. The email I received in response to a clerical position was top-notch LOL stuff. I can’t do it justice, so here you go:

“Dear Candidate,

Our managers went through your resume and you have been picked for an alternative Job which is the Accounts receivable. This position is also a Business Management position only that you work from home till October 2009 when the new office in your state is open for business then you would be the Administrative Assistant there. Once orders are received and sorted we deliver the product to a customer. After this has been done the customer has to pay for the products but in most cases we make our clients prepay for orders or items they ordered for. About 90 percent of our customers prefer to pay through, Certified Checks or Money Orders drawn from the United State based on the amount involved why Only few decide on other forms of payment.

WHAT YOUR NEED TO DO FOR US

1. Receive payment from our Customers or Clients.
2. Cash Payment at your Bank or Deposit payment and let us know how long its going to take before it clears at the Bank.
3. Deduct 10% which will be your percentage/pay on Payments processed,  also you will be earning $1,000.00 for a Monthly payment at the end of every Month.
4. Forward balance after deduction of your 10% pay to any of the offices you will be instructed to send payment to.

You’ will have a lot of free time doing another job, because this is a part time job, you will get a really good income. But this job is very challenging and you should understand it. We are considering your application because you satisfy our requirements and we are sure you will be an earnest assistant till we start running our branch office in your state. For example if you recieve 4000.00 USD, your 10% should be 400.00 USD.

Thanks for your anticipated action. And we hope to hear back from you.

HR Director
***********

Note: This is also a medium of challenging the possibilities inherent on the online technology according to my research work titled “Staff development for online delivery: A collaborative, team based action learning model” you can check the website below for a more comprehensive reading of the article.

Please cite as: Ellis, A. and Phelps, R. (2000). Staff development for online delivery: A collaborative, team based action learning model. Australian Journal of Educational Technology, 16(1), 26-44.”

So, this is the Russian mafia, correct? It has to be. The broken English, randomly capitalized words, the fact that I would be laundering money, etc. My favorite part is the very end. Having someone cash a check, take out ten percent, and then send it back is a “learning model?” Last I checked, that was third grade math and a possible felony.

This one was spotted as malarkey instantly. You lost me at “The job you applied to is taken, but hey, you sound like a second rate thug, how about you risk your freedom for us?” Shockingly, though, they did not ask for my bank account information. They’re leaving the criminal activity strictly up to me, which I appreciate. I mean, I’m wicked good at thievin’. Just ask the sheriff of Nottingham.

In the end, this is all very disheartening. The only responses I get from possible employers are not real. Well, not real in the “don’t want to go to jail” sense. I’ve come a long way from those days of sobbing over dead men in spandex, and it’s keeping my criminal record clean. But is it hurting my employment record? Screw it, I’ve always wanted to gain fifty pounds of muscle. Let’s go to jail and pound some iron!

Netflix Makes a Comeback: Unemployed Edition

So I’ve been without a job since the end of June. The fantastic idea to quit a steady job and move to the big city has not yet turned into an awful idea. It could over time, but so far it’s gained me the opportunity to catch up on my Brendan Fraser movies, something I’ve been wanting to do for what feels like an eternity. I’ve missed you, B. Frazzles. Never leave me again.

As always, I let the Netflix community know how I felt about each one I saw. For non-members, here’s a quick smattering of what I’ve been watching. Judge for yourself if my tastes are on par with an 8 year old girl.

Knowing: “Netflix users are rating this a 3.9? Really? Granted, it’s not Cage’s worst movie. In fact, his performance wasn’t the worst in it (Rose Byrne). But is it goofy, pseudo-philosophical nonsense? Completely. Shame, Netflix community.”

Hitman: “I decided to give this movie 50 minutes, a decent shot. At the 49th minute, the female lead walked around topless for a while. I said, ‘Danka,” and went to bed. It could only go downhill from there.”

X-Men Origins: Wolverine: “Was nothing more than a predictable action/romance with Hugh Jackman in muttonchops. Too “Fantastic Four” hokey w/ 1993 special effects. How can a movie made for 150 million look worse than Ben Hur?”

The Day the Earth Stood Still: “Jaden Smith needs a punch to the face. Yeah, he’s only nine, but someone needs to do it. Jada obviously ain’t doing it, and God knows that sissy Will won’t. Sign me up for that job.”

Get Smart: “Not awful. Couldn’t believe it. I watched the whole thing. I know, right? Is Anne Hathaway perfect, not because she’s typically beautiful but because she’s not typically beautiful? Or is it the boobs? So many questions.”

Kung Fu Panda: “Who do animation studios not named Pixar or Aardman even bother trying? Had potential but eventually the story was just dumb as a puppy the fell down a well. Even dumber than a panda that knows kung-fu. Somehow.”

The Condemned: “Actually moderately tense & compelling for chunks, but anything it earned went to hell by the last 20 minutes. Just watch The Running Man instead. I love The Running Man. Opera singing assassins, for crying out loud!”

Terminator Salvation: “I caught the last 25 minutes of Charlie’s Angels today, one week after seeing this movie, and now I know one thing to be uncontested gospel: McG is a piece of shit.”

Street Kings: “Played like a sequel to Training Day, with its corrupt cops and da crips und da bloods. Definitely not as good as that movie, but, meh, not terrible. Mostly I’m just gay for Keanu.”

The Brothers Bloom: “OMG, A ONE LEGGED KITTEN IN A ROLLER SKATE!! That’s all I needed to see. I’m sold. I hope Kittenz gets a bigger role in the sequel. Or maybe a bigger “roll.” LOL!”

Jumper: “From the director of Swingers (seriously) comes a 90 minute reel of action sequences set to your favorite hits by The Fray! Don’t delay, order now!! *No C.O.D’s excepted*”

Yes Man: “I still love you, Jim Carrey. And I think I always will. Not a return to form, but still worth a watch. And you, Zooey. Ohhhhhhh, you. You, you, you, you. Little ol’ you. Yoooooouuuuuuuu.”

The House Bunny: “Get off of my back, I enjoyed it. Anna Faris has genuine comic timing. Also impressed by Emma Stone. Still freaked out by Colin Hanks. It’s like Tom merged with Gumby. He’s a golum Tom Hanks.”

Dan in Real Life: “Show me an extended family that actually gets along and holds talent shows and other elaborate festivities, and I’ll show you a triple homicide waiting to happen. That shit’s not real, ya’ll.”

Coraline: “As you all know, I’m a HUGE Dakota Fanning fan, so this was a no-brainer. Her voice work is beyond compare!!!! But serialsly, I enjoyed this a great deal. Stop animation is my favsssss.”

Push: “DAKOTA FANNING WEEKEND CONTINUES!!!!!!! So, D-Fan can totally predict the future in this movie. I hope it involves me and a Sex and the City marathon LOL!!!!”

Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist: “I think both Nick and Norah need to deal with their still-open failed relationships before jumping into something new. If not, theirs will end in a Hindenburg like explosion. Just saying.”

Let the Right One In: “Quick shot of tween crotch aside, this was awesome. Makes Twilight look like a Judy Blume coming of age tale — Are You There, Edward? It’s Me, Abstinence. And who knew Swedes were so cruel? I thought they were happy go lucky. Bork Bork Bork!!!”

Mad Max/The Road Warrior: “I wish I loved these more. I feel like I’m letting Mel down. Sorry, sugar tits. I’ll just pop in the Lethal Weapon tetralogy as penance.”

Fido: “A great idea that made me chuckle more than a few times. May have been a better 5 minute skit. But I just like any movie where boy scouts get shot in the chest.”

The Game Plan: “Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has won my heart. Who am I kidding, I could smell what he was cooking years ago, and it’s delicious. By the by, this movie is terrible.”

Choke: “Not nearly as depraved as I’d hoped. What’s that say about me? Nothing, other than I see nothing strange about a man having an anal bead lodged inside him for weeks. I call that the Holiday Season.”

The Air I Breathe: “My boy Brendan Fraser can still pull off drama. School Ties ain’t no joke! But can he singlehandedly save a movie seemingly made by a severely depressed ten year old? Nopers.”

Space Chimps: “My roommates went to Blockbuster last night. “They’re both actors,” I thought, “They’ll pick something good.” So when they walked in with this, I became convinced that even Sir Laurence Olivier would appreciate a good fart joke.”

Two Sentence Review – Inglourious Basterds

I'm wicked ahwful in this!

I wanted to love this movie, but great characters left too soon, shitty ones stayed too long, and storylines seemed too simple. Plus, Eli Roth was too busy planning Hostel 3: Let’s Cut Up Some Bitches to take this seriously.

Your LOL of the Day – You’ve Been Sniped

DAYWALKERS!

picture courtesy of www.thejohnblog.net

Your LOL of the Day – Inglourious Humpbacks

You probably heard we ain’t in the prisoner-takin’ business; we in the killin’ White Whale Nazi business. And cousin, Business is a-boomin’.

photo credit: Warming Glow

Yea or Nay: Gladiator Sandals

Let me say right off the bat that I am in no way fashionable. I wear jeans purchased at the Gap, five year old Asics with holes in the sides, and the occasional joke t-shirt (Don’t Taze Me, Bro!, World Class Dad, etc…). I have the same haircut as Ben Affleck circa Good Will Hunting, and I have been known to forget to trim my unibrow from time to time. I’m hardly a shining beacon of picturesque beauty. But even with that said, I still feel I have every right to complain about a current fashion trend that’s infecting this city at a more rapid rate than the swine flu could ever dream.

As I walk the streets during my daily trips to the free clinic and Starbucks, I find myself constantly staring at women’s feet. Not in the “Please let me dip those in ranch dressing” way, but simply because they’ve drawn attention to their feet by putting on these:

Unsheathe your scabbard, you rogue!

I thought I was being punny when I google searched “gladiator shoes” to try and find out what these monstrosities are actually called. But, as it turns out, they’re really called gladiator shoes, or Roman Gladiator Sandals. Aren’t we nine years late to hop aboard this bandwagon. Hasn’t Russell Crowe gained 50 pounds since this was last relevant? Why are women just now getting in sword fights on Madison Avenue? This trend is sooooooo Y2K.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m not upset because we’re a decade late here — I’m just confused as to why anyone would want to look like a Christian whose face is about to be eaten by a lion. Believe me, I’m all about comfort — sometimes I don’t put on pants till dusk — but I don’t want to have to worry about my lady friend running me over with a chariot every five minutes. I’m looking for a wife, not Ben-Hur.

I’m wondering if these are even comfortable, though. Sandals, for the most part, are a form of stress-relief. Well, for those wearing them, for others, it could cause an irregular heartbeat by having to stare at someones black toenail. But this is about personal comfort, and sandals are important here. So, are these contraptions with the multi-straps a relief for a long day’s journey, or do they remind you as to why we stopped wearing them two thousand years ago? With how most fashionable shoes make you ladies complain, I’m leaning toward the latter. At least with Uggs or Crocs, the ugly came with the good. You looked like a goon, but at least you didn’t feel your heartbeat in your ankles.

This complaining isn’t going to do any good, I know that. This trend will continue to rise, eventually leading to cougars wearing togas to Speed Dating and an alarming amount of suicides by hemlock poisoning. It’s all about peaks and valleys. And at the very least I’ll get some laughs out of it. As for you:

Let me know if I’m way off-base here. I’m probably alone in my anger, as I usually am. I’m hoping I’m not, because if I am, I might go Salinger on ya’lls asses more sooner than later.

And an added bonus, just because it made me laugh and I didn’t want to leave it out:

Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack

Two Sentence Review: 500 Days of Summer

The Zooey-nator, makin' copies. Makin' babies.

Watching this movie turned me into George McFly, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt into Biff Tannen. “Hey, you, get your damn hands off her!” *punch to his grill, kiss to my woman*