Penoptic

In light of my persistent unemployment and my friend T's polarly opposite dilemma, I am here posting. Again. By special request of T, who recently posted on my Facebook profile that she's bored and begs me to update. Thank you, T, for checking my blog. That makes ... two people this week. And yet, the site traffic monitor says nobody reads me. Take that, traffic monitor! It's amazing to me that T has time to be, as she says, bored. No offense to T, because she's wonderful and brilliant and beautiful, but I just don't get how it's possible. I'm currently unemployed, and yet the things that seem to fill up my day stagger me. There's laundry. There are dishes. There's food to make. There's the never-ending trail of dog hair that needs vacuuming. Not to mention there's gift-wrapping, packing for the weekend trip to celebrate a friend's birthday out of town, and the soon-to-follow Christmas pilgrimage back to the house of my youth and all the ...

Just taking a moment to say how happy I am that 'Saturday Night Live' is funny again. Granted, it has been for a few years now, but don't you remember those awful days of the '90s when America's oldest comedy skit show wasn't comedic? Hard times indeed. Favorite clip of the night: "This song reminds me of the time I got engaged. My girl came in and said, 'I'm pregnant.' I said, 'Great!' and then as soon as her back was turned, I ran out the back door. Then, a couple of weeks later, I decided to do the right thing by her, so I went back." Friend: "What changed your mind?" "Her mom got nominated to be Vice President of the United States." Video will be added as soon as it's up on the NBC website. What was less impressive, though, was Beyoncé as the musical guest. Not quite sure what happened there, but her performance fell about as flat as her shoes, well, weren't. The minor notes of 'If I Were A Boy...

A few weeks ago, my friend's great-grandmother passed away. She lived with her, and with her grandmother (great grandma's daughter) and though it wasn't entirely surprising, it's still been a sensitive time for the family. As it is for any family that experiences a loss. My friend E has been doing a lot with her own life lately as well, trying to balance her pending move to California to be with her husband, who is stationed there, and managing to send all of her things from Texas to the beautiful Sunshine State. And her family seems to be taking her move, and the passing of the family matriarch, in stride. Of course, it helps that the city clean-up is this weekend, and they want to get all of the great-grandmother's things out of the house in hopes of selling. So E has inherited a nice little pile of things that formerly belonged to her great-grandmother. She told me, "So I have scarves, old books that I wanted, a purse she had when she was younger, et cetera....

It was one week ago today that I realized the extent of my stupidity. And let me tell you, it's staggering. The place: Slider's Bar & Grill, across the street from Camden Yards in Baltimore. The time: Middle of the last presidential debates, approx. 9:45 p.m., Oct. 15. The company: My good friend M and several of her law school friends. I worked very hard with people of various ages and political persuasions in order to come up with this election year's Drinking Game for the debates. The rules were as follows: Every time McCain touts to veterans or troops, you drink. Every time Obama says “When I am President,” you drink. Every time McCain refers to the Cold War, you drink. Every time Obama says “change,” you drink. Every time McCain sounds like a puppet of Bush (a la “We Both Reached For The Gun” from Chicago), you drink. Every time Obama says “tax cut(s),” you drink. Every time McCain says “maverick,” you drink. Every time Obama says “John is right” or concedes a poin...

Don't you just love how McCain never, ever actually answers a question during these debates?

Me: God, I hate D.C. sometimes. Mom: Why's that? Me: Too small. And apparently there's something about me that attracts homeless and drunken men. Mom: What?! Me: Homeless men keep hitting on me on the subway! Today this guy came up to me and said, 'Hi, I was just wondering, would you like to have dinner with me sometime? About me: My name is Dan, I'm 43, and I've been clean for three months and thirteen days.' Mom: Well, Laura, everybody has needs.

You might think that being unemployed is a lazy, lazy life. You'd be wrong. Today, for example: I have to move my car to avoid getting ticketed. I need to clean the house before my housemate gets home. Then I have a phone interview - my third interview for the same position in almost a month. And still no guarantee that it'll get any further than this. And then there's the unpacking and washing that must be done from my job-hunting trip, which I just returned from last night. Plus a run to the grocery store, do something to entertain the dog so he doesn't shit on the carpet again, and the compulsory daily check of Monster, Reed, CareerBuilder, and Craigslist to see if there are any new job listings that I can apply to. And of course, if I manage to get a shower in, that's always good, too. Meanwhile, the interest on my student loans accrues interest every month. And as we approach the first of October, marking my last month of my 24th year and the fourth month of my...