Help Wanted ... and Needed

Before I start to recapture what I had been typing for 30 minutes in this post, let me just tell you that my freaking AOL kicked me off. All of the beautiful words I had ranted are forever lost in cyberspace. That is just typical. Bloody TYPICAL. Enjoy.

Today is the first day that I officially need not worry about blogging about my job. Not that it ever stopped me before. However, today is the day that if I complain about my employment, I need not worry about the future of it, because there is no future. Today is the day that we found out that the United States Rowing Association is moving to New Jersey without the Drlich family.

As the news hit me I did not feel anything but a huge stomachache. I am actually more upset about the other 6 people losing their job than about mine. I don’t know why. It’s not like I have any skills. I am not an accountant, a doctor or a teacher. I don’t even have bow staff or numchuck skills. I don’t think that naming a song in two beats or picking out obscure actors’ names in movies can get me hired anywhere. My mom thinks that it is my destiny to work with Oprah. I am sure it is just as easy as writing a nice letter …

Dear Oprah,

How are you? I am doing fine … well, actually, since you are asking I am unemployed right now. Do you have any positions available? I think that you and I would really hit it off.

We both like dogs and big diamonds. I also really like what you’ve done with your hair this season. My cousin Adam was once on an episode. And, my dad’s cousin is on a Board with Stedman. I love Stedman!

I think I could offer some great ideas for some new shows. Please keep me in mind next time you are thinking of unemployed 26 year olds with a journalism degree in Indiana with a mortgage to pay.

All my love,
Brianne

P.S. My husband loves it when you yell, “HE’S IN THE BUILDINNNNG!”

And my dad thinks I don’t write very good cover letters.

Also today to add injury to insult or insult to injury (whatever the heck they say), the INtake man all capped me in an email. When I say, all capped, I mean ALL CAPPED. And, anyone who knows word processor etiquette knows that an ALL CAPS means a SHOUT. And you all KNOW that I don’t need no INtake man to shout out me. MMMhmmm. I got all capped because I missed a deadline by 2 hours last week. Give me a freaking break! It’s not like I get paid for that crap. I haven’t even seen one free movie ticket that was promised to me. But do I complain? Noooooo? And this man has the nerve to all cap me. This, after the fact that every week I get my response published next to an ugly ass picture of me with big hair. My ex-boyfriend sees that crap. And I am sure that he is laughing with glee every time he sees the ugly ass, big haired picture of his ex-girlfriend with some stupid comment about the tax increases in the city. And this INtake guy has the nerve to ALL CAP me! He doesn’t know who he is messing with.

I am sorry for that rant. I needed to feel sorry for myself just then. All of my Sex and the City DVDs just aren’t cutting it. I should be happy that I have my health (that is, until the impending ulcer rears it’s ugly head) and my dog’s health (he is in a healthy weight range) and my husband’s health (well, that remains to be seen after the big move this weekend … it’s Hernia City over here).

But, I do have this blog. And thank heavens it is here. As far as I know it is not going to pack up and move to New Jersey in December.