Blorange Saves the Day!

Well, actually, she's Bl-ash now. Blorange and ash makes Blash, her newest hair color. She and her husband have chipped in to help me get my Christmas tree, which is why I'm up so early. I've been up since 7:02 a.m. Shocking considering this is a Saturday, but a combo draft + weird John Cusack dream got me out of bed really early.

The dream consisted of a pseudo-Danny set-up, where a beat-up car barely worked and I had to help out. (For those of you who don't know Danny, that pretty much sums up his last two cars.) The car, a beat up LeMans with a crappy dashboard radio, went rolling down a hill and I went after it. I expected to see Danny, but instead I saw Cusack instead. Very un-"Serendipity." A blast of cold air got me out of bed. Off to coffee, Amaretto creamer, and feeding chubby fuzzers. Dexter and Muffin have back-to-back birthdays this weekend! Mr. Boo is 13 on December 19, and Ms. Poofski Puddins is 16 tomorrow. Ahh, the teenage years. So sweet.

What really shocks me is an actual married couple NOT writing me off. Where the hell Andy and his wife ended up? Beats me. It's also nice to have someone with a car not bitching that they're helping me at all. I'm not used to being treated with such respect. I truly appreciate this, I do. I am the last of the Mohicans still trying to survive in New York. How strange that is. I am also waiting to see if this strike pans out. Gotta love the MTA.

Speaking of the MTA, that test on Wednesday was a JOKE. It consisted of a "common sense" test of (oh god, can I write this without laughing madly???) spelling, and taking detailed phone messages. How many spelling bees did I win? I remember fondly standing in the auditorium of St. Mary's church in February 1985 during the Diocesan Championships fucking up the word "poplar" because I thought the guy said "popUlar." I did get "anesthesia" and "Blitzkrieg", which still makes me proud. As for common sense, if I've outlasted Pinochet, Ghetto Cow and Princess Brat, obviously I'm doing ok. What got me? The typing test.

Yes, the typing test.

The MTA, in their infinite "standards", wanted 98% accuracy and 55 words per minute. What was my score? 95% accuracy and 54 words per minute. They refused to let me interview based on this. Nice, huh? Apparently, I'm an idiot. Where the HELL are you gonna get 95% accuracy? Typing at home on this here blog and typing constantly on a Dell PC at work, maybe? NUh UHHH, not good enough. I hope Toussaint strikes if these are the types of idiots he has to deal with. Crap, I tell you.

Let's see if the mayor's office wants me. Screw these agencies, they're wasting my time. I'm beginning to think I wasn't made for this world. Maybe Mars or Pluto would be a good place to work?

Grrrr.....

But in two hours, I'll have my Home Depot Christmas tree! The Druids would be proud. And yes, it's a CHRISTMAS TREE, not a holiday tree. The ACLU can shut their mouths now....

(and Meg, I LOVED the card, so funky and elegant. Your's is on the way!)