I’ve been perusing the job sites this afternoon, and I came across two positions that are particularly cool. One of my dreams is to live on the road for at least a couple months of my life. This summer isn’t conducive to that, unfortunately, as I have three weddings to attend, but that’s totally fine. Besides, I’m not really qualified for either of these.
The Big Apple Circus, an internationally recognized, not-for-profit touring circus seeks a Fleet Assistant.
Responsibilities are dependant on experience and skill. Duties include assisting the Fleet Supervisor in maintaining the show vehicles and equipment, basic mechanics, driver’s license required.
This job requires full-time travel with the show. Position provides: salary, housing, all meals, benefits, and tour transportation. Tools and equipment provided.
To apply, email resume to email@example.com or call Chris @ 917-921-2560
Just think–you could literally run away with the circus! This next one I guess I could be qualified for, but I’m not sure I have the temperament for:
Private large Motor Yacht based in Jersey City is looking for a friendly, reliable, professional stewardess who can bartend, waitress and keep the yacht clean and tidy. Experience and interest in preparing and presenting food will be very beneficial to the successful candidate.
This is ideally a live aboard position as the yacht travels from Newport RI to Cape May NJ all summer long. Hours are not set but determined by the owner’s use of the yacht.
This is a great opportunity for those looking for a summer of fun and travel along with the opportunity to save their earnings as food and accommodation are provided when living on board.
Inquire at firstname.lastname@example.org
They even provide a uniform! Which is one reason I’m not sure I’d be a good fit–I don’t much like khaki. Or yachts, if I’m really honest with myself. I want a grungey tour bus compartment to sleep in, not an oak cabin compartment. And they use the term “stewardess.” Which makes me think that’s what this rich chauvinist still calls the female flight attendents on his private jet!
Sigh. Some people.
I did apply for one job today that I’m really excited about. And really qualified for, I think. But times are tough. The ad was posted at 9:22 this morning, and I’m sure by now, 6:30pm, they’ve already received countless inquiries. Feel free to do this for me:
Posted in America, Boys, Culture, Dreams, economy, Entertainment, film, Life, Men, Movies, music, Thoughts, Women
This is how I cooked my Ellio’s pizza this evening. Don’t the cupcake pan circles and the pepperoni circles complement each other nicely?
Posted in Food, Life
Sometimes it feels as though an inordinate amount of my life has been spent on Greyhound buses. Yesterday I boarded one a little after 6pm in New York City’s Port Authority Bus Terminal. I once had a bus driver give a long diatribe all about the terminal’s population of crackheads who would try to help us with our bags and then steal them in order to fund their crack habit. He said it’s especially bad in the warmer months as crackheads outnumber police officers 10 to 1. Point is, the Port Authority Bus Terminal is full of characters. Go ten paces in any direction outside of the terminal, too, and you can find an adult video store/peep show theater.
Usually my Greyhound bus trips aren’t too eventful. One time I almost inherited my seatmate’s diabetic 13-year-old cat. One time I sat next to someone I’d been fascinated with all through college and I thought we might be falling in love, but it turned out not.
This trip was uneventful aside from the two-year-old girl sitting on the lap of the woman beside me. Children are okay. I understand they need to travel places, too. It just sucked that she had a cough. And that cough kept being directed at me. And each time, seconds too late, the mom would tell her, “Cover your mouth.”
Still, today is Mother’s Day. And the girl’s mom was trying. And I know years down the road or in another lifetime I’ll find myself in public with a two-year-old who’ll be crying or knocking things over or losing control of its bodily functions and the last thing I’ll want to deal with is some childless bystander giving me a hard time or rolling eyes at me when I’m doing the best I fucking can.
Taking care of kids is hard.
Is it just me, or does the whole world feel a little out of whack right now? I feel like it’s the beginning of the Wizard of Oz and the winds are powerful and I can’t find Toto and my blue gingham dress doesn’t quite fit. This oil spill in the Gulf is a real drag. The economy is still a drag. And everyone’s anxious about terrorism and volcanic ash clouds and whether Men in Black III is gonna be any good.
Speaking of the economy, 60 Minutes had an interesting segment tonight about people walking away from their mortgages–even if they can afford them–because they’re paying off, like, a $250,000 mortgage on a house that’s now worth almost half that!
60 Minutes makes me laugh. And it teaches me things. I like that combination. I like this combination:
You might not guess it from the looks of my neglected blog, but I have been doing some writing lately. Most of it is ending up on my flash drive instead of here.
I feel like one of the minor, enduring struggles of my life has been realizing that it’s a beautiful day outside, yet preferring to stay inside and read a book or write in my notebook while wearing pajamas and eating potato chips. Today I justified my indoor actions by telling myself it’d still be light out when I’d have to leave the apartment to go work, so I needn’t feel obligated to leave before then. I also looked at the weather report and found that tomorrow will also be warm and nice and I can take advantage of it then–unless I find myself in a similar mood. You know those moods? For me it’s like my inner world feels so interesting and stimulating that why bother interacting with someone else at the moment? Or this character in the book is in the middle of a really big ordeal, and my couch is really comfortable, why risk not finding a good reading spot in a cafe or park?
So, that’s what I found myself in this afternoon. And I worked on some of my flash drive stuff. But I think about my blog a lot. It’s not exactly like a child. It’s more like a Tamagachi pet or even a Chia pet. I know I can go a reasonable amount of time away from it and still nurse it back to health and restore its faith in me. But I also know how easy it is to leave it on a shelf for a few weeks. Maybe those are bad comparisons. I don’t think of my blog as a fad I’ll eventually grow tired of, throw in a box in the basement, then drag out for annual tag sales, only then to remember all the great times I shared with it when some bratty neighborhood kid offers me a quarter to take it home with them–never to love or care for it as I did.
Yeah. My blog is something else. It’s a tool and an outlet and a companion. And it’s me.
I didn’t mean to share any of that. I meant to share the first couple paragraphs of something I’ve been working on. So here that is. Thanks for reading this blog. Thanks for contributing to the life of my figurative Tamagachi Chia pet thing.
Some people are able to announce, with grandiosity: I was born moments after the first man walked on the moon; Or, on the day Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat; In the wake of a magnitude 6.5 earthquake. They imply these events prefaced and even foreshadowed the lives they went on to lead and the kind of people they grew to be—inevitably great and impactful.
Myself, I was born shortly after my parents watched Caddyshack, including the scene in which Bill Murray’s character eats a candy bar others mistake for feces floating in a pool. I like to think that in being exposed to this film I recognized that the world could be a funny place, and that though the womb was warm and safe, I didn’t mind venturing some place new.
Posted in America, Comedy, Culture, Dreams, Entertainment, Life, Movies, Thoughts, Writing
Tagged blogs, caddyshack, potato chips