hoodwinked!

as i may or may not have mentioned before, job hunting is far less fun than pretty much all of the other things i hate:
grocery shopping on sunday afternoon;
arguing with a 3 year old;
moving your entire residence without the help of any sober individual;
listening to hilary talk about how she is going to "let" barack run on HER ticket;
waiting for comcast to attend to a service problem;
running into a significant ex at the gym;
you get the picture...

it's a game. it's like your goofy best friend from high school. it will lift you up just high enough to see over the fence into your kick-ass future, only to pull your legs from underneath you and laugh as you fall to the ground. i think that i've learned to play... the trick is to grab onto the fence before you fall and figure out how to swing up and over. i'm still hanging...

so last week, i got a phone call letting me know that i'd finally scored an interview at the company i've been wanting to work for ever since i went back to school. my interview at ann arbor radio group was yesterday and it went like this: i arrive, feeling good, looking professional and i meet the guy who's going to interview me. he seems like a pretty cool, laid back guy... he's in jeans and a button-up so that puts me at ease since i'm definitely more comfortable with the "casual" crowd. we have what i think is a great interview, although he does throw out a few questions that make me wonder "why did he ask me that?". he wraps it up and asks the customary "do you have any questions?" question. of course i do. i'm prepared. so i go into what it is i do understand about the position and ask if he could tell me a little more about what my responsibilities would be. the look on this guy's face was one of pure confusion and embarrassment. turns out, my resume was passed along to the sales department and he was interviewing me for an ad sales position, unbeknownst to me. let's pause and imagine my shock and dissapointment. i thought this job was going to be my ticket into the radio biz, out of the U, and perhaps into my own condo. i know my great future is out there, i just don't know how to get to it.

another pause, this time for a tom petty lyric: "god, it's so painful when something is so close... and still so far out of reach"

subsequently, i went home with my tail between my legs and drank it away. today, i am able to laugh it off but haven't shaken the disappointment yet. it reminds me of my time in california job hunting and/or soul searching. i went in for a sports marketing interview one morning and was somehow tricked into going door to door in dress shoes for 9 hours in the rain. i don't even remember what the hell i was selling. note to potential employees: if you have to be tricked into a position, you probably shouldn't take it.

although i can say i'm in quite the predicament now. i don't want to sell shit, but i can certainly think of less appealing things to sell than radio advertising. people think they are straight celebrity status once they hear their name or voice on the air. the salary is higher than my current salary and i'd be earning commission on top of that. maybe it's something to think about. when i was first offered an internship at greater media, i originally turned it down. it turned out to be the best thing that has happened to me in the business, and regardless of where i go from here, i will always credit the people i've met there for jump-starting my career. maybe this is another "door close - window open" situation. everything good that's ever happened to me has happened on accident and has been the result of me taking leap of faith. analysis and advice is welcome...

come out, come out...

wherever you are. kwame does it again. while in hiding, he's successfully secured detroit's slot as the most shameful city in the country. and he's THE MAYOR! seriously, i don't know whether to be amused or angry with the dude. last week, kwame "i like titties" kilpatrick (nickname courtesy of Brown Guy - keep an eye out for his blog regarding this... it's guaranteed to be funnier than this one) was busted. he was having an affair with his chief of staff, but more importantly, he lied about it on the stand. well, there goes his law license. did someone say "that's mighty clinton-ish of you, kwame"? the super-cool, sneaky way he was busted? text messages (in which he stated to his lover "never busted")!!! i love it. for all the juicy verbage, check out the story on click-on-detroit. it does make you think twice about what your thumbs are saying to your cell pals, though. sure hope they never subpoena my texts!

when he was brought forth in a whitsleblower lawsuit, back in september, i thought what was going on then was nonsense. but this really takes the cake. dude thinks he's straight tony soprano.... above the law. he's throwing parties at his mansion where strippers beef with his wife, then end up whacked. he's bangin' the chief of staff and firing her employees for investigating it (their whistleblower trial is when he "allegedly" committed perjury). he had a secret get-away home down south that he was staying at last week until he was tracked down there. i wonder if the manoogian mansion has a batcave with a super speedy get-away vehicle too? and now he's totally AWOL. he will not come out of hiding or issue any public statement. hellooooooo? is anyone out there who wants to lead this city? do you feel the shame yet, detroit? remember, it was you that reelected him.

to you, mayor kilpatrick, i raise my peach-flavored swisher sweet and my mad dog 20/20 and say here's to you... oh silver tongued ambassador of motown. you could have done a lot of good for the city if not for your one weakness. seems like every issue you've had stems from one thing. it's like The Roots said: "everytime i turn around it's more pussy galore".

50 bucks?!?!

another testament to how greedy the wealthy are in this country. dude from connecticut finds a check for $185K on the street. he works at mcdonalds and receives food stamps just to get by. does he cash the check? nope. in fact, he tracks down the (wealthy) landlord who was supposed to receive the check. THEN, he hops on a bus and returns the check to the lady that wrote it in the first place. keep in mind that this woman is writing a $185K check for RENT. do you know what she rewards him with? 50 bucks. i'll kill a bitch!

wow. hey buddy, hope you enjoy puttin' that 50 on your kid's winter coat layaway while this bitch heads to her $2K spa appointment. if there's ever a next time, i'd keep that shit if i were you. someone like that doesn't deserve to keep their money. if one needs to be that frugal, one should probably make sure they don't leave their rent in the streets.

people suck.

people bother me. i am totally the reincarnate of my father, although i'm considerably better at hiding my disdain for humanity. my dad and i couldn't stand each other for the better part of my teenage years and now i know why - we see in each other everything we hate about ourselves. anyway, here are the winners of the "bother me the most" award this week:

1. dad jew and mom jew from the bat mitzfah i catered last weekend. they spent roughly $75K on a party for a 13 year old, consisting of circus performers, street actors, personal marquee and open bar for 300 people. obviously, all is right in the world when we can shit that kind of money away. i'd die before i even spent that much on my own wedding. we worked a 15 hour shift to pull it all off and drove an hour home in the winter storm. oh, and did i mention they stiffed us on the tip? mazel tov.

2. the guy who interviewed me a month and a half ago and hasn't filled the position yet. actually, i really liked this guy and the studio and the job... which is why i'm mad at him this week. just hire me already and fix all the self-fulfillment and financial issues in my life. i hate to wait. i believe i am meant to work one job. i'm over holding down three, thank you very much. and p.s. - i would kick ass at this job.

3. the email abuser at work. i'm not a huge fan of receiving 6 emails from one person over the course of an hour about one subject. if you really have that much for me to know, think about it for a bit... THEN email me. or write a draft and read it a few times to make sure it says exactly what you want me to read before you hit the send button. also, i don't need to be copied on all of your correspondance. it clogs my inbox, i don't read it, and it stresses me out. who fucking cares?

4. and finally, as a general rule, i'm sick of reading about children being beaten, raped and murdered in the news every day. if you do it, you deserve to die. period. go to hell.

that's it for now. the bitchiness is overwhelming this week. i can think of 3-4 things that might make it better... i'll have to work on those and check my mood next week!

hood-tastic!

how do i hate "ghetto-ness"? let me count the ways...

last week, i'm driving furiously to best buy, ironically to pick up a new hip-hop album, when i'm stopped behind a hooptie. the trunk is rattling (not bumping, rattling) with the bass vibrations of what can only be classified as gangsta music. no, not gangst-er music, which would more likely remind me of frank sinatra or tony soprano. gangst-a music, which in my eyes, mostly entertains the low-life population who think they're scary and important like gangsters, but are really just folks lacking respect, motivation, and therefore employment. besides the point. so there are two people in the car. the male driver is waving his arms up and down like he's the rap star and proceeds to repeatedly stick his finger in the female passenger's face. as if this is not sufficient insult, he begins to push her head with his finger. now, she is obviously annoyed, given that she keeps swatting his hand away, but if it were me, i would have punched him dead in his eye ("who you callin' a bitch? U-N-I-T-Y".... ha, sorry- it just slipped out).

today, CNN ran a news story about more states stiffening penalties for excesively baggy pants that show undergarments, or even worse ass crack. of course, the ACLU is fighting it. in most cases, i'm a supporter of the organization, but c'mon. if i see you with pants around your knees, believe this: i'm not talking to you, i'm not looking at you (for fear of an unintentional eye-roll resulting in a verbal assault) and i'm DEFINITELY not hiring your sorry ass.

there's nothing about "ghetto-ness" that i'm a fan of really. pants around your knees? not hot. clothes bearing the likes of fat albert and tweety bird? not hot. packing heat? nope. sporting your hair in the shape of a helicopter? yuck. damn, you can't even find good weed in the hood anymore. but i guess my main problem with it is its ability to stick around into the adulthood years. i hate to see a 16 year old carrying himself like this, but if he's still behaving this way at 40, even 30... that's not ok. you have to learn how to make the switch. you don't holla atcha boss like you holla atcha boi. word?

disclaimer: i grew up in ypsi, ok? i'm no stranger to baggy jeans, gym shoes, over-sized jerseys and EXTREMELY tight hair. not tight like "nice hair", but tight like "ouch". in high school, i spent a lot of time on the south side and honestly believed that i fit in. sure, i was usually high at the time, but i could still walk it and talk it. and i've taken part in more than my share of "baby momma" fights, playing the roles of baby momma, other girl and innocent bystander. perhaps it's unusual that i, of all people, am commenting on this absurdity, when i'm known to have a "hood" tendency myself. perpetual dater of black men, incessant user of the F-word, owner of 3 pairs of Timberlands, and public worshipper of the movie "Tupac: Ressurection". but i know how to be a grown-up when necessary. and that my friends, makes me "hood-tastic"!!!!!

the other woman

chances are, if you have to dial *67 before you dial a phone number, you probably shouldn't be calling that person. i was "lucky" enough to be on the receiving end of two such phone calls last night. the first at 1:13am and then again at 2:11am. to say that i was a little displeased to be woken up in the middle of the night by the BUZZ of my phone and the word RESTRICTED pasted across the screen would be quite an understatement. sure, there was a time when a phone call at that hour was exciting. something to look forward to and maybe even something that would keep me from falling asleep in the first place. but not now.

first of all, after a sunday of: a, waging mental war with a stubborn 3 year old; b, waiting for said 3 year old to fall asleep so i could secretly box up toys that she hasn't played with in a year (for fear that if she saw this project, it might just push her over the edge); c, attempting to be an inpartial source of advice to my good friend who is dealing with the "should we or shouldn't we get back together" stage which follows a break-up; and d, feeling sorry for myself for several reasons... i needed to sleep it off!

second, i'm fairly certain that i know who the caller was. well, at least i have it narrowed down to two people. usual suspect #1: the man who infiltrated my life for 7 years with no real honorable intentions and although we spent many "late nights" together, miraculously did not end up fathering my child. sure, i was equally to blame, but i'm positive that he came out of that with far fewer scars than i. but that's another post.... and although we may go months without speaking to or seeing each other, he is sure to slither from the depths eventually. that's what he does. usual suspect #2: his psycho pseudo-wife who has threatened my life on numerous occasions, but who really just needs someone better than him. if this is the case, she was likely waiting up for him to come home from another lover's home and since i'm her usual suspect, she decided just to check in. ah, there's no love like crazy love!

yes, the whole world knows that i, in my youth, fell in love with a (sort of) married man. i have born the "other woman" title for years. in any case, please get over it. the other woman still exists... it's just not me. besides, i'm not sure what the *67 is good for in this case... these are not-so-anonymous phone calls anyway.

sex, lies and city hall

ah, yes, detroit. one of the most infamous cities in the country. we got scandal, we got drugs, we got murder, and perhaps some of the most cocky bottom-feeders in the world. and nothing is more representative of the city's nature than its government. Kwame Kilpatrick, mr. mayor himself, is all wrapped up in court this month over... well, everything. threatening staff members for being snitches, whoring out his corrections officers, whoring the city out for his own personal benefit and, of course, sexual affairs in back rooms of barber shops. but let's get real, people... this has been going on since the days of carlita's navigator and being ejected (along with the entire entourage) from DC's clubs. and you did it, detroit. YOU re-elected him. fuckers. so stop whining and man up for another term. it's called democracy. and guess what? in case you missed it, black folks have been allowed to vote since 1965... and the historical voting foundation is made up of white trash. so get it together, detroit. participate.