Um, Yay? Part Two

Bad news, you guys. Or good news, depending on your general opinion on life, work, and what is good for the human spirit. I got a job. Now, before you start peeing your pants with glee over the employment of someone who is so nerdy as to keep a PERSONAL WEBLOG (because I KNOW that is what is happening to you right now - your happiness is spilling over into your bladder), I'm only "temping." Which is basically the coporate way of saying EXTREMELY LONG INTERVIEW during which we assess over a period of two weeks whether or not you are a complete psycho/liability/idiot. You'll be getting paid hourly, without benefits. THEN MAYBE WE'LL HIRE YOU PERMANENTLY!

So anyway, this recruiter lady I've been working with called me yesterday and was all "OMG I have a job for youuuuuu and it starts tomorrooowwww!!!" and I was all "UM, tomorrow? Yeah, I had big plans to sleep in and avoid my sister's requests to help her with the last details of her upcoming nuptials. Then I was gonna go to the gym a couple of times and not shower. Just to see if all that sweat will start washing my hair for me. So can we postpone this shit til Monday?" Obviously she was like "No, and um, are you insane?" Luckily, I am not totally insane, remembered that I am fucking broke (this job will pay more than government unemployment, unfortch), and did the right thing. So anyway, now I got this temporary, possibly permanent position. Which is cool, I guess. (No details in case my potential permanent employer is an INSANELY talented cyber-stalker and discovers this blog I write without using my real name). Today was my first day and it went pretty well. People were nice, company seems pretty cool, work was easy. I'm still looking for other jobs of course, because they might not hire me permanently, or (more likely) I'll convince myself that I'll have to commit suicide if I work there. At which point I would of course accept their job offer, because I am a masochist like that. I am not happy unless I have something to complain about, duh.

WAIT. I almost forgot to mention that the BEST part of this job is that the office is located extremely close to the highway, and rather far from any el stop. Which makes it one of those rare Chicago office buildings to which it is more convenient to drive. And....wait for it...there is FREE PARKING!!! This job could be my chance to end my twice daily battle with public transportation! Although, that is actually kind of sad. I love hating the CTA. It's one of my favorite hobbies.

Whatever. I'll figure it out.

Please Let Me Have a Kid Like This One Someday

The story I'm about to share actually happened several weeks ago. When I was still EMPLOYED. But it took me a while to gather the energy to write it all down, because it basically blew my mind.

I think I've mentioned this before, but one of the more surprising things about me is that I really like kids. Babies, toddlers, pre-teens, whatever. Although I have zero patience for stupid adults, I have all the time in the world for children. So anyway, a few weeks ago, after work, I boarded my least favorite part of the CTA, the DREADED BROWN LINE, to go to boot camp. I got one of those seats that face out, parallel to the doors. At the next stop, this little boy and his dad got on the train. The boy was probably no older than 6 or 7, and his dad was young too, probably 33 at most. The little boy sat in the empty seat next to me, and his dad stood up in front of us. The little fella was quite chatty, as he was obviously very excited to see his dad after what I presume was a long day at school/day care. I sat there with my headphones on, trying to sneakily eavesdrop on this little boy's conversation with his dad.

"Dad, guess what? I'm friends with Billy the bully now! And he's not really a bully! Well, he's not as nice as Lauren, but he isn't THAT mean. AND, he likes to wrestle! Lauren doesn't like to wrestle because she is a GIRL and that is BORING. But Ms. Wright told us that we weren't allowed to roughhouse at school, because we might get hurt. HAHAHA, we're not going to get hurt!"

"Well, it's still probably a good idea not to wrestle at school. That is kind of an at-home activity I think."

"Yeah, I GUESS. Oh, hey Dad! I have a GREAT IDEA! Let's go home, make some dinner, wrestle a little bit, and then let's go to the park and practice kicking the ball!"

"Ok, that sounds like a good plan."

"I just hope there aren't any babies at the park...Because it would be really bad if I accidentally hit one IN THE FACE with the ball...even if the baby was like, 2 years old, that would still be really bad."

"Yeah, we don't want to hit anyone in the face with the ball. Remember that time you hit me in the stomach with the ball? That really hurt."

"DAD, I didn't hit you in the stomach, I hit you in YOUR NUTS!"

At this point I almost lost my shit laughing. But I tried to hold it together so that the kid would keep talking. I did, however, look up at his dad who looked positively MORTIFIED. It was amazing.

"Um, no, you hit my in my stomach," replied the dad, in a desperate attempt to change the course of the conversation.

"Oh yeah, I guess you're right. Because if I hit you in your nuts, you woulda been like "Arrggghhh aahhhh owwww!'" said the little boy, miming grabbing his crotch and doubling over in exaggerated pain.

"Um yeah, ok, shhh..."

About 30 seconds later:

"Dad? I won't say NUTS on the train anymore."

"Thanks, buddy."

About halfway through this conversation, I started looking at the dad's hand for a wedding ring. I didn't see one (which doesn't actually mean anything), but I was thisclose to being all, um do you need a stepmom? Because I will GLADLY step in and fill that role. Because this kid is the BEST KID.

Solitary Confinement

Being unemployed has given me a real sense of freedom.  Freedom to do things like work out 4 times in 2 days and shower only once.  Freedom to say, "I'm not going to put on any clothes that cannot be described with the word "sports" or "athletic" in front of them."  Freedom to go to bed at 9:45pm and wake up at 9:45am.  I DO WHAT I WANT.  Yep, aside from the fact that I have no money, I could probably make unemployment work for me.

There are downsides to this freedom, however.  One of which is the vast amount of time I will be spending alone.  Don't get me wrong, I love being by myself, but over the past 3 days I have had minimal face-to-face contact with other humans, and I fear that soon my tendency to talk to myself might spiral out of control.  Here is a conversation I had with MYSELF this morning:

"Should I have cookies for breakfast, or oatmeal?  Oatmeal.  No, cookies.  The cookies ARE oatmeal cookies.  And I just made them last night.  I don't want them to get stale.  Damn, I made A LOT of cookies.  Why didn't Amy and MY NEMESIS take more of them this morning?  Those assholes probably want me to get FAT.  I probably should stop making fun of MY NEMESIS for that time when he had a beard and gained 60 pounds.  That was like 3 years ago and I didn't even know him then. But that could be ME in a couple of months.  Is growing a full beard a side effect of unemployment?  Fuck.  I'm totally going to grow a beard and gain 60 pounds now.  That's it, time for workout number #1 of the day.  But first let me eat these 2 cookies.  Damn, these are sooo goooood."

Either scenarios like that will become the norm, or I'll get so desperate for human interaction that I'll start hanging out at the crackhouse/heroin den at the end of my street.  There are always a couple of junkies milling around outside that look like they'd be good for some stimulating conversation.  I wonder if those guys like cookies?