Funny how life works sometimes. A week ago, I was settling in for what I expected to be a lengthy period of unemployment, interspersed here and there with bouts of hysteria and panhandling, and instead I am sitting at a desk at a new job. For this I have Jessica to thank, chiefly, for hooking me up with my current employer. If I remain on past this first week, though, I think I also will get some of the credit, since they�re telling me that this is my �trial week�. I believe that means they�re �trying me out�, not that I need to prepare for a mock trial or something.
Oh, shit, what if I do have to prepare for a mock trial? This could go really bad, y�all. I was an attorney for our mock trial in high school, and we totally lost the case. Well, we had two trials and my team lost the fist one, although we kicked the second one�s ass. Don�t anybody try to tell me that punk-ass kid at the video arcade thought he was acting in self-defense, because he totally knew he was in no real danger, and I refuse to justify my push for the electric chair to you or anybody because even though he didn�t actually kill anybody, he was a real asshole and he shouldn�t have picked on me in the third grade! Mock trial is where we studious types got to nail those mouth-breathing douchebags from elementary school. I actually got some guy I hated to admit he condoned of �horrible, gruesome murder� because he didn�t understand what �condone� meant.
Anyway, I�m working for what we�ll call Relationship-Based Reality Show, because that�s a pretty accurate and none too specific description. So far, it�s been great! Of course, so far it�s only been about four hours of work, but those four hours have been pretty cool. I also worked on Friday in a somewhat different capacity, and let me just tell you that Irony is not only alive and well, but he also follows me around in a black hat and huge sunglasses, waiting to pounce at the very moment Irony is notorious for doing his best pouncing: when my guard is down.
I was offered a one-day gig here at RBRS as a PA/runner, which is fancy-speak for �guy who schleps tapes all over town�. Not that I minded -- it's experience either way. Well, the second I told them that I had reliable transportation, Irony slipped into his long, black trench coat and followed me out to the parking lot. Where he slashed my tire.
No, seriously. I�m not kidding. I was actually returning from an early afternoon jaunt when I discovered that my right rear tire was more flaccid than�okay, you know what? I�m not even going there. Let�s just say it was flat and move on. I had to call roadside assistance, and some ancient, creaky, old Greek man showed up and put my spare on for me. Then he showed me the KNIFE WOUND in the side of my tire.
When did I piss off the mob?? For real, y�all -- who gets their tires slashed? Except for, like, narcs and people on Murder, She Wrote, I mean. What the hell?? So I had to go and pay a shitload of money for a new tire, which totally seems like adding insult to injury, but can we go back for just a second? I was parked in the structure, for Pete�s sake, it�s not like I was out printing people�s dirty secrets in my weekly column for the Times or whatever! I mean, I could totally start doing that, though, and as soon as I figure out who did this you�d better damn well believe their ass will be stripped bare and splashed across the front fucking page. Don�t fuck with me -- I�m an experienced mock lawyer!
Anyway, my actual, current job is not as a runner, so I have less transportation issues to worry about. And despite the fact that there was some kerfuffle about my shift (I was told to come in for the evening, and then called this afternoon with a, �Er, forget what I said about evening�how about right now?� And here I am! And it�s really late. And I�ll be leaving soon.
Anyway, there�s the latest: new job, flat tire, and mock trial. I have no idea what the hell is going on.
Someone Got Here By Searching For: BIGGEST FATTEST ASS I�m Watching: Desperate Housewives, which is really entertaining! With My Free Time, I�m: Well, I don�t seem to have free time anymore, but I guess that�s a good thing.
� 2005 by Dr. No, all rights reserved; you break it, you buy it.