Bait and Switch revisited

Finally got around to calling the temporary agencies today to let them know I will no longer be in need of their services. Seems rather pointless, as my "relationships" with these two agencies has been rather fruitless. In fact, between the two of them, they netted me one job.

One job. In about six months or so of "trying".

Not exactly stellar performance, if you ask me.

Plus, they both engaged in what can only be seen as "bait and switch" recruiting tactics, which I find just, well, creepy. Both agencies caught my eye by advertising fabulous-sounding positions that seemed right up my alley, but wouldn't you know, the moment they got me in the door to take their tests and gather up my info, the jobs were already filled.

Weeks before, in fact.

So, they keep advertising tantalizing jobs weeks after they're filled.

What is that, if not a bait and switch?

Am very glad that I have a real job in my future, if only so it will mean I can bid these people a not-terribly-fond farewell.

On other fronts, I still have a cold. The bad news is I wake up feeling like a hacking shell of unhealthiness; the good news is I feel more humanoid as the day goes on. Also, I was supposed to go on a retreat this weekend, but cancelled due to my Linda's reluctance to go. Good thing, for not only was I not looking forward to going by myself, but I really have no desire to be sick away from home. Being sick is something one prefers to be in one's own bed, no?

And you know the people on the retreat would probably rather I keep my germs home and safe, too.

So here we are, coughing in the New Year....or something. Ah, 2005: You are a year I can say goodbye to without a hint of regret.

Here's to 2006: The year of The Jennifer Myszkowski, and much, much more! (Health, perhaps?)

I'm going to miss the Old Gang....

By this time next week, I will be working away from home. In an office. With people. It will represent a major change of pace for me, as I have been working at home. "Alone." For over nine years now.

My coworkers, such as they are, have been the animals in these photos. First Oatmeal and dear, departed Butler the cats, then Shwea the lab mix, and then, Linus, the shepherd mix. Butler's no longer in the picture, but as you can see, there's more than enough animal companionship around here to compensate for his departure.

I have enjoyed my time with all of them, but for the dogs crazed barking twice a day (for the postman and the paper boy). And the cats insistence that it's five o'clock (feeding time) somewhere, which usually starts around 1:30 in the afternoon. While I thought Butler was behind the begging, apparently Oatmeal is quite capable of whining without any prodding at all. Harrumph.

Doubt that my human coworkers will do anything remotely along those lines. Of course, one never knows, does one?

What's in my wallet?

Tried to get three charges off my credit card again today (this is my third attempt), and today's response, from the brain trust at CapitalOne, was to cancel my credit card.

Well, they're sending me a new one, but still.

The problem is that I made a reservation with the Surfside Inn in Provincetown via Travelocity in mid-October. Then, two days later (after reading about a guest's terrible experience at said hotel) I cancelled the reservation. There was some rumbling about a cancellation fee, and something that looked like a cancellation charge appeared on my credit card statement shortly thereafter. Fair enough.

But then, the next month's statement came, and the hotel submitted charges in the same amount as the cancellation fee again. Three times, in fact.

Altogether, the "cancellation fee" is now somewhere near TWICE the value of the room I had originally reserved.

Not good. Not good at all.

So, I've been trying to get this corrected via both CapitalOne and Travelocity, and so far: No luck.

What's in my wallet? A useless piece of plastic.

The good news is that I only use the plastic for emergencies, and happily, it's not the time of year we usually have those. (Shwea's paw tends to open up in the warmer months.)

On other fronts, I've been wondering if I should make a New Year's resolution, but as I don't remember what, if anything, was resolved last year, methinks it's a giant waste of time.

Plus, if I were to resolve to do anything, it would likely involve weight loss and/or exercise, as I have let myself go a bit the past year. (When one is underemployed, food and sloth are as cheap as thrills get.)

And as I'm starting a new job soon, methinks I don't need more stress.

Besides, Aunt Lib from Nebraska just sent a tub of home-baked cookies, wrapped in wax paper, as is required by women of her generation. For heaven's sake--I'm only human, after all.

T'is the season to be stuffy....

I woke up with a headcold yesterday, which was the cherry on top of a holiday season, perhaps a year, that could most kindly be called "Underwhelming."

Oh well, as Miss Ella Fitzgerald used to sing, "Into each life, some rain must fall...." Don't think I agree with the rest of the verse, which goes, "and too much too much too much is falling in mine." A little financial insecurity, a little disappointment, a little reno on the carcass, the end of the very long run that was Butler's life--nothing has happened to me in the past year that qualifies as cruel and unusual--it's just Life with a capital "L."

Actually, methinks I got sick due to a happy turn of events and the stress it brought to my oh-so-sheltered life. Don't want to say too much, but I have more options than I have all year on the employment front, and that does a gal a world of good.

And 2005 was the year I managed to wrangle a regular spot on The Comedy Studio stage, as did comedy buddy Jennifer, so I didn't even have to drive to Cambridge: How lucky can a gal get? This year also saw a few paid gigs and my first comedy column--also for a fee. Even a disappointing attempt at a regular NYC gig was a hoot--got to perform at Stand-Up NY in front of dear friends and former coworkers, and that went wonderfully well.

And I performed in front of my terminally wise-ass brother and he hasn't been taunting me ever since--now that verges on the miraculous!

So, headcold and body aches aside, I'm feelin' groovy--and that is as good a way to wind down the year as any.

What's coming in 2006?

I have it on good authority that 2006 is going to be The Year of the Jennifer Myszkowski.

Just so you know. (And it's about time, if you ask me. She's due, really and truly.)

But then, 2005 has not been a banner year for me, either, yet I'm going to keep my expectations low for 2006. I will be starting a fabulous new job, but also earning a fraction of my former pay. So, I'll be learning wonderful things that will enhance my resume, but also learning to live on less.

A lot less.

I've done it before, of course. My people are not well-to-do, to put it mildly, so I have had lots of experience trying to live on very little. Worse, I was trying to live on very little and earning it doing absolutely awful, degrading, and sometimes just plan disgusting jobs. Of course, I was younger then and had less stuff, but I think I'm up to the challenge.

Am hoping I am so engrossed in the new job I don't notice my lack of discretionary income.

It could happen.....couldn't it?

On other fronts, Sir Elton got hitched, U.K.-style yesterday. Sounds as though he didn't have any Rev. Fred Phelps-like loonies raining on his parade, and for that, I am grateful. Most of the onlookers who were asked about the proceedings said something to the effect of, "It doesn't hurt anybody--why not?"

One elderly woman, a Roman Catholic to boot, said something to the effect of, "If it makes him happy, I'm glad for him."

How very, very civilized.

I'm a sucker for a turn of phrase....

And goddess bless Molly Ivins, she has a million of them. Consider the following excerpt, from her article in the Boulder, Colo. Daily Camera, "So 9/11 Means It's Okay to Spy on Americans?"

"Here is a curious fact about the government of this country spying on its citizens. It always goes wrong immediately. For some reason, it's not as though we start with people anyone would regard as suspicious and then somehow slip gradually into spying on Girl Scouts. We get it wrong from the beginning every time. Never seem to be able to distinguish between a terrorist and a vegetarian."

She continues: "The Department of Defense has just proved this yet again with its latest folly of mistaking a flock of Florida Quakers for a threat to overthrow the government."

A FLOCK OF FLORIDA QUAKERS: Scary!

And since I can't help myself, here's one more:

"The usual suspects, like that silly congressman Dan Burton, solemnly try to scare us with the dread specter of war, as though they alone are the hard-headed pragmatists, while only woolly minded liberals care about the Constitution. 'Don't these people realize we're at war?' Well, yes. Why that justifies treating Unitarians like Islamofascists is beyond me."

Me, too--and a lot of other folks who don't easily fit the "wooly-minded liberal" label as well. Gives me hope: If we can't I-M-P-E-A-C-H, maybe we can at least C-E-N-S-U-R-E.

Maybe?

The unbearable sweetness of Shwea

Just to add to the sugar overload, those are Linda's pajamas she's sleeping on--Linda, her momma who's off to work for the day....

Give me an "I"!

"I-M-P-E-A-C-H," sung to the tune of the classic Tammy Wynette (SP?) tune, "D-I-V-O-R-C-E," is being sung in our house today. Have been reading editorials and columns and news galore that suggest THAT MAN may finally have overstepped his bounds to the point that even a GOP-controlled Congress can't look the other way.

Or can it?

We blew past (sorry, couldn't help myself) the Clinton Era "Trifles with Interns" impeachment standard years ago, but apparently:

• Stealing an election with the help of the Supremes wasn't enough.

• Using trumped-up evidence to start a war that killed thousands and maimed thousands more wasn't enough.

• Stealing another election by rousing the worst impulses of the electorate with gay-baiting and a smear campaign as well as more than a little election fraud wasn't enough.

Maybe, at long last, desecrating the Constitution by authorizing illegal wiretaps is.

Maybe?

Who knows--only time will tell, and if The Satanic Smirker wriggles out of this one, then we know that democracy's great experiment is really in peril.

But all is not bleak. On the home front, I finally put another coat of paint up in the bedroom and had my prelim interview with the for-profit outfit.

Doubt that will be going anywhere soon, however, so instead I'm readying myself for my glamorous, ill-paid position in the non-profit sector that's starting soon. WOO!

Amusing, or easily amused?

Got sidetracked from today's ambitious agenda by a distraction or two, the most time-consuming courtesy of my one-third employer. When discussing the latest fiasco with my supervisor at said place of bidness, I somehow found myself referring to our problem as the "Quagmire du jour."

Does that work for you? I rather like it, but then, between not having had enough sleep (we slept on our guest bed last night, and that meant sharing a much smaller-than-usual space with the bedhog of all bedhogs, our lab mix Shwea) and inhaling paint fumes for a while last night, I'm a little punchy.
Quagmire du jour.

Whattaya think?

Today, I was going to: Finish a job for said one-third employer, put another coat of paint on the bedroom, then put the finishing touches on a grants proposal.

What I did: Began work on the aforementioned job for said one-third employer, spoke with a contractor who apparently missed the memo about calling people before coming over (but then, every contractor missed that memo), finished work on the aforementioned job, fielded two clarifying calls regarding the job, scheduled an "appointment" for tomorrow, and then, finally, addressed the quagmire du jour for my one-third employer.

Oh, there was another job tossed to me in there, too. And the animals were carrying on something fierce for about an hour this afternoon, for I am trying to push their feeding schedule later and later in the day, so they will be on the proper schedule once I begin working outside the home in January.

That's the idea, anyway. So far, they're not acclimating. They're P.O.'d.

As to my agenda: The job? Done. The proposal? Tomorrow. The coat of paint? Tomorrow.

Yes, two of the three things on my "to do" list didn't get done.

Ah, Mondays.

Interesting development....

Wouldn't you know: Just after I accepted the non-profit job, I get a call about interviewing for a job with a for-profit enterprise that would probably pay twice the salary and include the full range of benefits--including three weeks of vacation to start and a very generous retirement plan. (The non-profit job offers health care and one week vacation and no retirement. No foolin'!)

That the non-profit job is compelling on an emotional and intellectual and perhaps even spiritual level is one major consideration. That the job that offers money and security entails writing about subject matter that is on the dull side is another. But then, a living wage that would allow me to show my semi-employer the door--that's a consideration that may trump them all!!

Though my heart belongs to the non-profit job, I have to follow up on this. If only to avoid a major case of the "What ifs." "What ifs" that will definitely occur to me the first time I am struggling to make my car payment and/or finance some other worthy investment on my non-profit salary.

That I haven't even had, much less passed, a screening interview, however, is the reality, and we shall see how that goes before we get all worked up about anything.

On other fronts, we began another painting project this weekend. We're painting our bedroom a dark purple, and it's stunning, if grape-y. Not that there's anything wrong with that.....

Also: Have been noticing a decided correlation between runners and bicyclists doing bone-headed things (like running or riding three abreast in heavy traffic when there's a perfectly good sidewalk available) and the wearing of Spandex or some other very tight pants/shorts.

In fact, I've seen so many Spandex-wearing dimwits, I think that someone should do a study of IQ before and during Spandex-wearing.

Wouldn't be surprised if these folks drop a good 100 IQ points. Maybe more.

Christmas came early this year!

The job has landed, and I am soooooo relieved, I can't tell you.

Okay, I'll try: A weight has been lifted, a BIG, PONDEROUS, PAINFUL weight.

And I almost feel like dancing. But since the music is not now, nor has it ever been, in me, I am thwarting that impulse.

We Midwesterners are EXPERT at thwarting impulses.

So, as I don't want to somehow hex the new job, the details will be kept to a minimum. However, I will say that I am very happy about the people I will be working with and where, and that means more than I can say. The first week of January can't come quickly enough.

Oh happy day!

Hope springs eternal, doncha know....

Isn't this a thing o' beauty? Why didn't I think of it?! You can get your own here.

On other news, I submitted a counter-offer to the non-profit and await word. As the youngest member of my Midwestern (largely) Catholic family and a female to boot, I am not what one would call assertive. (How's that for understatement, those who know me?)

In fact, being assertive in any way, shape, or form tends to make me nervous, so I'm doing my best cat-on-a-hot-tin-roof imitation right now.

That doesn't quite work, does it? What's a cold weather equivalent? Can't think of a one.

Wonder why: When it's seven degrees below zero, are nerves the least of one's worries? Could be.

I'm trying to be calm, and besides--I got the nicest three reference letters in the mail today. How nice? If my mother were alive, I'd send her copies of them all. And I got a little more editing work, so I have decided that come what may, I'll be okay.

(You nurture your delusions, I'll nurture mine.)

Eight months later....

Well, it appears I may have a job. Don't want to hex it, but it was offered today, and while we're working out some of the details, I am looking at starting something rather thrilling and fulfilling in 2006.

I am also looking at a fraction of my former income, but then, haven't I for a while now? Plus, this job is the one I mentioned that is so very, very cool, and the people seem so very, very nice, that I would be a fool not to take it.

Am I not the only MBA candidate who was disgusted by the industrial relations prof who said, "Your paycheck is life's report card"?

You betcha!

Non-profit (in oh-so-many ways) world, here I come!

Work to do!

Wonder of wonder, miracle of miracles--well, you get the idea: I have some work to do this week!

It involves writing two grants for a small nonprofit, and as you might imagine, it is a job-and-a-half. Perhaps too much for a week, but I'm going to give it the old college try. A little challenge is a wonderful thing, for my brain could use something new to think about besides the sorry state of my finances and job prospects, believe me.

One other bit of sunshine--came across a discussion of the difference between religion and spirituality today that warms my heart and almost makes me wish I lived in Cleveland.

Yes, Cleveland.

It's called "Praying for the Demise of Religion," by the Rev. Kenneth W. Chalker, and it first appeared in the Cleveland Plain Dealer. It discusses the recent United Methodist Judicial Council ruling that reinstated a pastor who had refused church membership to an openly gay man. Choice bit:

"In these religious times, church organizations are forsaking their initial spiritual impetus and going over to the dark side. Employing labored, amplified heavy breathing, they have become religious institutions. Like most institutions, religious ones are very much interested in preserving their various ways of doing things. That is, in large part, why there are judicial councils. Their job is not to keep the faith. Their job is to keep the rules and make folks think that 'the rules' and 'the faith' are the same thing. Most often, they are not.

"While the decision of the United Methodist Judicial Council purports to protect a pastor's right to ascertain a person's readiness to affirm the vows of membership in the church, it does nothing of the sort. The decision does what religion so often does: It sanctified acts of hidden prejudice and self-righteousness."

Sorry, one excerpt isn't enough. One more:

"...In the meantime (and sometimes the times are very mean), institutional religion continues to be a mind-numbing reality. In all cultures, it preserves the status quo in ice. That is why religious folks often seem to be the 'frozen chosen' rather than ones warmed by the fire of the Spirit with tolerance, acceptance and love, and set ablaze with a passion for justice.

"Putting people out is a coldly religious thing to do. In the end, the rooms from which people have been excluded become empty. The temperature is turned way down to save expenses. Not much is going on in those rooms, but at least they are neat and orderly. Current judicial councils, like all of them over time, very much like it that way...."

Amen, Rev. Chalker!

Hammock season's shot, I suppose

Happiness is a good show

Last night's benefit for Jessie's House did not have the attendance of last year's (I blame the bitter cold), but it was a good show nonetheless. A lot of variety in the comics, and the audience was receptive to just about everything I brought to the show.

One audience member even came up to me afterwards to thank me for my Pres. Bush material (another comic riffed on the Clintons, for heaven's sake--Hello: 2005 calling!--so I was glad to update the proceedings, even if it means acknowledging the existence of THAT MAN).

Am still stewing over the bloody homophobes who are doing their damndest to take away rights from people like me all over the country, but in the scheme of human events, they won't really do a thing to me unless I let them. And, I must admit, I was a little chastened by a woman I spoke to last night who was angry at the "Christians" who got all worked up about Pres. Bush not saying "Merry Christmas" in his holiday card but who say nothing--nothing at all--about all of the children who are not going to have a home of their own this holiday season.

Yes, the GLBT set is not the only strata of society that is being trod upon by the "Christians" and the regressive right that's running the show these days. Word of new tax cuts for the wealthy were on the radio just this morning--along with news of cuts in Medicare, childcare assistance, and a host of programs that help the poor.

Jesus wept--and odds are, He's still soaking his pillow, thanks to these hypocritical so-n-sos......

The United Straights of America

Sounds as though Massachusetts' crackpot Christians and/or homophobes have more than enough signatures to vote on the civil rights of their gay and lesbian neighbors next year, specifically to green light an anti-gay (marriage) amendment to the state constitution. You know that the Catholic church and other defenders of the sanctity of marriage (if not childhood) will ensure that queers get smacked down yet again, spending money and spreading slanders galore to get the job done.

Wisconsin, not to be outdone on the homophobic front, apparently is not content to just have an anti-gay marriage law on the state books. It is following this same vicious course, in an effort to protect straight cheeseheads everywhere from what, exactly?

Oh yeah, equality with queers.

Because if one is the same as a gay or lesbian, what, exactly, can one feel good about? Being a good parent/husband/wife? Personal/spiritual development? Making a positive difference in the world? Helping others, maybe?

Hell no--that takes work! Why do anything if they can insure that the simple and completely accidental fact of their sexuality alone makes them better than someone else? (If it didn't, then the straight folks behind these petitions might have to get off their collective asses and do something, no? HORRORS!)

That's the kindest spin I can put on this anti-gay activity, and even that's a stretch. For when your country is embroiled in a quagmire of a war, your schools are underfunded, your neighbors are losing their jobs and pensions, your elderly relatives are fearful of losing their health insurance and Social Security, your environment is on the brink of no return, and a dizzying array of real and present dangers confront your family and country each and every day, spending your time trying to f*** other people over--and I'm sorry, but that's how the anti-gay marriage movement looks from here--seems, well, beyond misguided. It's wrong. It's selfish.

And worse, it's not going to stop any time soon.

My goodness, I'm in a state today. The state of Massachusetts in the United Straights of America, unfortunately. The only good news I have is that another one of my references was called yesterday by the person who would be my boss, and offered very positive feedback about the experience. So, there's still hope on that front, at least. So much so I even dreamed of working at the place last night.

But then, I also dreamt that we lived in a huge house with a bathroom the size of our living room that had a tub area so huge Shwea was swimming in it while getting her bath!

The house also had a foundation that was being threatened by soil erosion, though, too.

(Perhaps it's best not to read too much into one's dreams, eh?)

On other fronts, an old Peace Corps buddy of mine is on an adventure to Australia, and this morning I found reading her blog a wonderful diversion from the fussy ol' here-and-now.

That's better!

Had a pretty good set last night at PACE, considering all my material was new. Looks like my mutterings on cats and the president were most well-received, followed by the yak incident.

Hard not to laugh at a word like yak. And it does get the brain working. Right after my set, Jennifer came up with "If I knew you were coming I'd have baked a yak." Fabulous. When I got Linda home (yippee!) and we got around to talking about my set, she had another inspiration: "There's always room for yak."

This could keep me going for months, if not years. (You think I'm kidding?)

Not only is Linda home, but late yesterday afternoon I heard that two of my references had been contacted for that cool (if low-paying) job I have my eye on. The fact that Linda is home has also made the herd much happier (they get nervous when their human population dips 50%). The fact that I am in the running for a real, live job that from all appearances would be a tremendous opportunity doesn't hurt the overall mood around here, either.

So yes, things are looking up--and I'm enjoying it while it lasts.

Tidying up does a gal a world of good

Today I finally tackled a long-overdue expense report that has been a source of agitation for weeks.

Okay, months.

It's idiotic, for it is for money owed me, for heaven's sake, so why the foot-dragging?

That would require professional help of the sort I cannot afford right now, but the good news is that today's efforts will soon result in money going into my checking account, which is a very good thing indeed.

Also "found" some money in my checking account that will certainly come in handy.

And last but not least, had a nibble for some more work of a freelance nature last night, but nothing has come of it. Yet.

Oh well. Such is life in the purgatory known as "between jobs."

The good news today is that tonight is comedy open mic night at PACE, and I am going to try out ALL NEW MATERIAL.

Then I have to dash, for the other good news is tonight I get to pick up my Linda at the train station.

Things are looking UP!

How I'll know it's serious....

Have been having a time lately, and while it has meant I've been uncharacteristically snippy and otherwise out of sorts, it hasn't been enough to make me think I'm in real peril.

That day may come, but it's not here yet.

For as long as David Bowie's "Suffragette City" gets my Midwestern groove on, I know I'll be okay.

In other words: When Bowie can't get this gal dancing, then she's in trouble.

On other fronts, I found five compelling job prospects over the weekend, and they have all been e-mailed or faxed or whatever was appropriate. We are well over the "100 Prospective Employers Served" milestone by now, and good golly something's got to give.

And please, goddess, don't let it be my retirement savings.

As for other news, found out that my favorite music shop in wonderful downtown Northampton, B-Side Records, is closing. Seems that business was down (MP3s and internet shopping, I'm guessing) and rent was WAY up (how unusual), so there was little else to do. It's a marvelous shop with great people and they have a lot of CDs, DVDs, vinyl, stickers, and absolute kitsch still for sale (can you say "SpongeBob Squarepants traffic light"?). If you need/want anything of this sort--or know anyone who does, head on over!

The bison of Tibet

Decided to learn a little more about the yak, based on yesterday's experience. Wikipedia offers a good description, but I think this picture says it all.

Yakety Yak! (Don't talk back)

We were both so proud of ourselves for getting our respective Saturday acts together in time to have lunch at one of our favorite places in town (one of the places that has joined that odd restaurant cabal that closes between lunch and dinner). In our seats well before 3:00, we looked forward to a delicious meal.

We ordered our favorite items, and were a little taken aback when one of our entrees was delivered. It was supposed to be three types of dumplings--beef, chicken, and vegetable. The waiter informed us that as they were short of vegetable dumplings, they had substituted dumplings filled with yak.

Yes, yak.

Now, poor Linda wasn't sure if a yak was a sort of vegetable, but I let her know that it was, instead, an animal. Perhaps a delicious animal, but when one has one's mouth set on vegetable dumplings, yak is not the first substitute that leaps to mind.

It's rather like a waiter saying, "I'm sorry, we were out of the veggie cutlet you ordered, so we cooked up a nice buffalo cutlet instead." Isn't it?

Well, we tried to be good sports, open minded diners, and so forth, and gamely (deliberate word choice) tried the yak dumplings. Didn't taste like chicken, I'll tell you that.

The one upside of the situation was that we were having all sorts of fun with the situation, coming up with idiotic advertisements: "When in doubt, serve yak." "Yak--the new dark meat." "Yak: It's what's for supper."

Well, perhaps you had to be there, but both Linda and I were having quite a bit of fun with it all.

We were having fun, I should say, until the owner of the restaurant brought our bill and told us he regretted that we didn't like the yak dumplings and felt terrible and that the dumplings were on the house.

We protested (while we didn't enjoy eating them, the comic value of the yak dumplings was immeasurable), but he stood firm. Oh dear.

Now we feel a bit bad about it. Oh well, it is always something.

After the yak debacle, we went to see the film, "The Squid and the Whale," only because Laura Linney was in it (we have been avid fans of hers since she was part of the "Tales of the City" franchise).

As movies go, it was a lot like a yak dumpling--without the fun.

Let us now give thanks...

That "advance" that was going to be deducted from my meager income starting in January? It's going to be written off, and not by yours truly--thanks to a certified letter I sent at the instruction of my lawyer.

The people who proposed this idiocy apologized for any "anxiety" this proposed action may have caused me, but say I was a bit "rushed" in calling in an attorney.

I'd say she was right on time.

Let us now praise the honorable profession that is the law--in the right hands.

Not for lack of trying....

Have been pounding the pavement, exploring every avenue, knocking on doors--you name it--to get myself some sort of income. Yesterday, I had a really good interview with an organization that has a terrific job, but that pays the sorts of money that would make my cat bark.

If my other position doesn't go anywhere, that would be fine. However, recent events suggest that my other position may be going the way of the eight-track.

Even so, the opportunity is so great, I would take the job in a heartbeat. Yes, it's that cool of a job.

Knowing that a good interview doesn't guarantee anything, however, I applied this morning to another temp agency, and then, as I was already in my corporate drag, I stopped by yet another place for temp work. Get this: They require three letters of reference, so this is application is going to take a while longer to get going.

Yes, three letters of reference SO I CAN FILE for them. Don't get me started.

The upside is I was in the neighborhood, so I quickly swung by the old schools department, and snagged my three references on the spot. Plus, I got to say hi to some of my favorite peeps, and that's always a good thing.

Now I must get my "Thank you" letters in order, then get my car to the shop for its oil change and what-all (I'm overdue, I'm embarrassed to report).

Gotta say, though, is I made the mistake of reading over some comments on Sheryl Swoope's coming out, and there was the usual HOMOPHOBIC puddin'head comparison of people like me (gays and lesbians) to murderers, thieves, and rapists. Oh--and using the Bible as backup to their slander.

Nothin' like using the Bible to do your dirty work for you! Wouldn't Jesus be proud?

I understand that fear is at the root of this and most other forms of bigotry, but I am getting so tired of people who seem to get a tremendous sense of self-worth from the accident of their sexuality. It's rather like being proud of being Caucasian or tall.

Pathetic, no? Well, I think so, and as this is my blog, that's all that matters.