In-person Interview, With a Little Something Extra...

First of all, I would like to thank all of you who put suggestions for me in the comments or e-mailed them to me. I loved all of them. The one that I chose, however, was from Caila who wrote:

"Jeff, put a couple jellybeans in your buttcrack. or just right into your butt."

This idea was just the kind of thing I was looking for. Something that would be completely unnoticeable to my interviewers, but that would most certainly lose me the job if they knew. I was basically looking for something where I could use the phrase "none the wiser."

Well, the sad part is that I forgot to buy jellybeans and I woke up too late this morning to go and get them. So instead, I went to my corporate-ish job interview looking quite professional, wearing my dark olive shirt with a deep red tie, dress pants and my one pair of church shoes*.

Oh, and a Walgreen's brand multivitamin up my ass.

I think I may have gotten the job.

I chose a multivitamin because I figured that it couldn't harm me (although the bottle does recommend taking it with a full glass of water, which I just didn't have time to engineer in this situation.) And on the plus side, who knows? Maybe during the interview I would receive a jolt of vitamin C**!

It wasn't noticeable (to me, I mean -- I'm SURE it wasn't noticeable to them) but every once in a while I would remember it was there and suddenly whatever he was telling me about Medicaid reporting issues would become very, very amusing.

I like to believe that they were thinking, "Boy, what a happy guy. He really seems to like computer programming. It seems that he is so interested in our company, he could just laugh!"

This was all for you, my bloggees. I struck a blow for silliness in the face of big business (and possibly colon health) at the same time in your name. You're welcome.

*I don't go to church or anything, but that's my point of reference for dressy, uncomfortable shoes.
**Couldn't tell if this happened to me or not.

Second Interview Contest!!!

Well, apparently the pantsless interview technique has born fruit - I have been asked to come in for a face-to-face followup. After years of consulting from home I'm already annoyed with the prospect of having to wear a tie and be punctual, even just that one time. The prospect of actually being paid regularly, less annoying.

Incidentally, several people have asked me whether or not I really did my telephone interview naked from the waist down, as if it is some kind of a risk that I dare not take. It was OVER THE PHONE. People, people. I live alone. I can be naked from the waist down any time I choose. I'm not now, but I could be. Wait, hold on. There. Now I am. Does everyone feel better? No? Me neither. It's a little chilly in here.

Now, since my unorthodox interview practice seems to have been effective, I'm trying to decide how I can get the same effect in person without the hassle of being arrested for public pantslessness. I do have a pair of Jar-Jar Binks underwear* that I could wear. Seems pretty tame, though. Maybe I could write, "I hate working" on my chest underneath my shirt. They'd never read it, but it would make me feel better to express that in some small way.

THE CONTEST: If you all have any suggestions of what I should do for this second interview, feel free to leave me a comment about it. Any and all strange behavior/dress will be considered. I seriously do want to do something that will amuse me, but not jeopardize the job. I'm taking requests, people. Get creative. I promise to let you all know who the winner is.

*Serious as a heart attack on that one. When you like Star Wars as a child, sometimes your aunt can't let it go, even several decades later.

Jeff Mac Explains the Universe to You

Why, hello! I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone, but I'm sure glad you stopped by. I've got a tale that will turn you as white as a Jeff Mac. It's about a little something called...the World. Come on along, won't you? No? Seriously? Oh, you were just screwing with me, huh? Right, right. Yeah, no, that was hilarious. Very...amusing. Ahem. Let's move on, shall we?

• The Big Bang: First, the universe was very, very small. Then it blew up. And now it's really, really expensive to live in. And lots of times it really sucks. Although, every once in awhile you have the kind of a day that...yeah, but mostly it pretty well sucks.
• Evolution vs. Intelligent Design: This is a very popular debate right now amongst politicians, rubes, and exasperated scientists who have actually been looking into the whole thing for quite some time. Here it is in a nutshell. The evolutionists believe that life occurred somewhat randomly at the start and then gradually, through the process of "natural selection"...Ok, here's the real deal. The evolutionists went to school, the other guys are big, big dummies whose only qualifications are that they have really great imaginations. I report, you decide.
• The Pyramids of Egypt: Are these things still interesting to people? Yeah, they were really, really big. I get it. Everyone, seriously, get over it. When you've got a bazillion slaves rolling giant blocks around all day long until they drop dead, you'd be surprised at the stuff you can get done. (Homework: try this yourself at home!)
• The Grand Canyon: Churchy types believe that this was created in a couple of minutes during the great flood in which two of every single animal on earth was on a boat. Scientists believe it's a big hole. Winner: big hole.
• The Collective Unconscious: This was an idea created by famous shrink, Carl Jung. It's been quite some time since I've read it, but it's essentially that we're all connected to some kind of an indoor, olympic sized pool of intelligence. Sounds hilarious. I'm totally in.

Now, I have not claimed to be an expert in any of these fields. Until right now. I am an expert in any of these fields. Good night.

I'll try anything once!

Anyone who says that they will "try anything once" is clearly not very imaginative. I'm willing to bet that any one of us could instantly come up with 5 things that they'd never, ever bother trying for every one that they would. Some examples.

• Pass a bicycle through your nose. Yes, the whole thing. Sure, you can take it apart. What, don't you want to try it even once?
• Color in every area of your exposed skin with a black sharpie.
• Shave your pubes into a sort of a hitler moustache and run down the street naked in Israel.
• Try a role-playing sex game where one partner pretends to be someone winning the Nobel Peace Prize while the other one pretends to be a klan member demonstrating at the ceremony. Full costumes, podium, burning cross are all mandatory.
• Build a home out of hotdogs. Live there, just for a month. Don't even want to try it one time? Just once? But you'll try ANYthing once!

America's Next Bottom-tier Model

This weekend, I entered and won a mock beauty pageant. It felt so good to be rewarded for all of my mock beauty and to be named the current reigning, "Mr. Lower East Side." What does that mean to you, the small child viewing at home in your footie pajamas? Well, it could add a little gravitas to the proceedings around here.

For example, if your boss catches you reading this at work and says, "Why are you reading this douchebag's blog instead of working?" you might want to try this out.

"Uh, hello? That douchebag just happens to be Mr. Lower East Side 2005-2006. You might want to check your tone, you colossal a-hole. Get back in your office before I smack your little bottom for you. Would you like that? You'd love that, wouldn't you? If I just spanked you mercilessly in front of all of your employees until you wept gentle tears? Well just maintain that stupid look on your face, daddio*, and your dreams will all come true."

And when you are then fired for insubordination/moral turpitude (a la Kim Catrall's character in Porky's, in the days of yore) we can go and get a cup of coffee and you will feel so relieved that you are no longer working for a buttpipe like that guy. Or lady. That's called "gender diversity" people. Look it up. It's very big with the kids today.


*Throw this term from the beatnik 50's in there for spice. If your boss is female, you can try Mommio, but it is highly unorthodox. Or at least midly unorthodox.

Full (frontal) disclosure

Ok, it was a little bit too cold for total nudity so I just went bottomless on my telephone interview. I feel like that made my point sufficiently and I think the interview went quite well.

If you have the opportunity to do a bottom-half nudity interview, I can honestly say that I would recommend it. It's not unlike the old "imagine them in their underwear" cure for nerves. That one never worked for me. But if I get a second interview (which will be in person) or if I get and take the job, I can assure you that I will be imagining myself without pants. Just like I imagine all of you, my lovelies.

Job interview just minutes away

Since my job interview will take place over the phone, I have decided to do it naked. Why? For you, the blogreading audience at home. So, while I am discussing the differences between SQL Server 2000 and Microsoft Access data structure, attempting to get someone to give me money on a regular basis, I'll be entirely in the buff. I feel that it will give me a sense of freedom that will give me that competitive edge.

Plus, it's a little chilly in here for total nudity, so I imagine it will boost my energy level somewhat.

This is all very experimental for me, so I promise to report back on my findings.

Interview Technique

I have a job interview tomorrow. And this time, I'm going to be completely honest. No more of this bullcrap where you say "what they want to hear" or "what will not get you tossed out." So here are all the questions I usually dread, and my new answers.

• So, why would you like to work for us: Oh I'm almost sure I won't LIKE it at all. I guess the main reason is that it's the only way you'll send paychecks. I mean, am I wrong about that? Seems like that's how it works these days.
• Tell me about you: Do you mean physically? Like, my dimensions...down there? Because if so, that sounds like sexual harrassment, and I'd like to sue rather than actually have to come to work for the money. That was so easy - thank you!
• Where do you see yourself in 5 years: Oh, there's no WAY I'll still be alive in 5 years. No, I would NOT like to elaborate, sir. Oh, sorry. Madam.
• What would you say is your greatest weakness: Mm. There are so many to choose from. And they are all great in their own way. I just hate to judge them like this. Hm...Let's see...'terminal adorability?' I'll go with that one.
• Do you have any questions for me: Nope. Oh wait. Who will I be speaking with on Mondays & Fridays when I'm calling in "sick"? Is that you? It's really nice to meet you.

HA!!!!!!!!!

I have you now, you shitstain spam-commenters!

Dear Gentle readers who read the comments on my blog (yes, you two.) You might have noticed all the total SHITE that shows up like:

Say, I was just looking around. I am for liking your blog. I am return often! Please to check out MY website about x-rated dishwashing detergent.

Well, I finally figured out how to defeat the bastards. From now on, if you would like to comment on the blog (and if you are a human and not a computer program, you are encouraged to do so as often as you like!) you'll have to do that thing where they have 5 or 6 wavy, trippy letters. And you'll have to type them in. Enjoy!

-mac

Rome: The Series: The Observations

Well, I've been watching Rome. Why? Because 6 Feet Under is over. And I have so little in life. Don't bother me. I just watch it, ok. Several things to note about HBO's new Emmyhole:

• Lots of sex between people who actively dislike one another. Huge pastime in ancient Rome. You'd find someone who you couldn't stand, you'd make sure they couldn't stand you, and you'd bang like the wind while your servants stood around. Just like today.
• Many Penises. Uh, holy shit. Ease back on the penis throttle, there, producers. Your cock-to-episode ratio is a little high. Even last night, I thought we had made it through an entire 60 minutes completely dong free. And then, in the last 30 seconds, what do I see? Baby wiener. Full frontal infant.
• Everyone on the planet is British. Romans, Egyptians, whoever. Well, there was one Greek guy with no nose who had a Greek accent. But other than that, it's Brits as far as the eye can see, dicks in the wind.

Why am I watching this show? Because I took Latin in high school, ok? Ladies?

Dear Autumn,

I'm sorry, baby. I'm sorry I shouted at you last week. I'm sorry I called you the b word. Now please stop being incredibly rainy and depressing for everyone in the tristate area.

Come on, baby, why you rainin'? Shhhhh, shh, shhhhhhh. No, no, no. Stop raining, baby. Let's get you out of that uncomfortable green foliage. Ok, ok. We'll take it slowly. That's cool, baby. You drop those leaves at your own pace, Autumn.

Seriously. Please stop the raining. I've forgotten what the sun looks like. And yet I seem to remember enjoying it. And I think if I saw it now, I might pee a little. Not a bad thing. Like tears of joy. Pee tears of joy. Look, don't worry about the specifics. Just get it done.

Love,

The Sad, Seasonally Affected Guy in Apartment C1

Career Wanted:

Me: Unmotivated person looking for paycheck.
You: Anyone who isn't too fussy about what you'll get in return for the writing of that check.

Basically, I'm looking for a very low level of commitment in exchange for a lot of money. I mean, a big, huge pile of it. You don't have to actually put it into a pile, but piling is a plus. And I'm really not looking to do ANYTHING for it. The ideal situation would be if for some reason you place a high dollar value on my inactivity.

If just knowing that I'm probably somewhere sitting around not doing much of anything is worth cash to you for some reason, I think we may have a match.

Oh, and if you wanted to do something that in NO way inconveniences me, but for which I am legally within my rights to sue the living holy hell out of you, that would be fine as well. I'm easy. I'm easy like Sunday morning.

Dear New Laundromat,

How are you? I am just fine. Couple of quick things:

1. Your swipecard-based payment system frightens me, and yet leaves me secretly thrilled that I get a glimpse at the future of laundry. You make me feel like a real Jetson, and for that I will always love you.
2. This is less a comment than an observation. I really like the plasticy picnic tables. It's like McDonaldland without the burden of french fries or fun.
3. Please smother that swarm of children who circle me, wherever I go. But before you end their adorable lives, please ask them how they know. How do they know? How can they tell how badly I am wishing that they would give me at least a 5 foot no-child perimeter? And once they determine my no-child-please-zone, who trained them to coordinate their child-in-laundry-cart assault for maximum disturbance of my inner peace? I'm trying to be wicked enlightened over here, and it's very difficult when my brain is generating elaborate visions of each of them crying.

Sincerely,

That guy who moved away from the childcluster about eleven times before realizing that they were following me.

Dear Autumn,

What the fuck, season? It was supposed to be getting cooler by today. We're halfway to friggin Halloween over here. I'm simmering squash soup as we speak, yo. It's hot as balls in here!

I think I speak for all of New York City when I say get out of my mufuggin' dreams and into my car*, beyotch.

Listen, I only really like clothes you can wear in cool weather, ok? Basically anything they mighta wore in Aliens3. I'm talking drab and utilitarian, made for comfort and warmth, and fighting off aliens and/or space prison inmates. I can't wear that shit now though, can I? No. I have to wear everything I own in case it gets cold or warm or whatever the fudgicle you're going to throw at me. I'm sick and tired of this shit.

Get it together, Fall. You're embarrassing yourself.

-mac

*I caught myself singing that song on the street. Out loud. Yeah, uh, don't ever do that. Billy Ocean doesn't garner nearly the street cred you might imagine. Neither does being a pale-ass Connecticutian, fyi.

Farewell, old friend.

I retired my wallet today. I could give you any number of reasons why I did so, but let's go with the fact that there was no part of it that was attached to any other part of it any longer. It looked like something you might pull out of Tom Hanks's pocket in that movie where he hangs out with the volleyball.

As to why it fell apart? I think the reason is clear. It died of loneliness. It missed its lifelong soulmate with whom it was born to be: money. My old wallet died of a broken heart.

As I tossed its lifeless form into the trash, I could swear I heard a tiny voice say, "Tell money I always loved it." Money knows, baby. Money knows.

I hope that my old wallet is in heaven now, reunited with all those dollars that I read about every year when Social Security sends you that thing that tells you what you've made for your entire life. Now that I bring it up, I miss those dollars. I wonder what they're doing now...

Meat'Normous!

Ok, Burger King has introduced a new breakfast sandwich called Meat'Normous. It has ham, bacon and sausage with AN OMELETTE. On a roll. I don't quite know where to go from here. I feel like we've gone almost as far as we are likely to go in the direction of putting foods on top of, inside of, or just near other foods. These are all I can come up with:

• The I've Got A Small Penis-wich - It's a turkey and swiss cheese sandwich. But stuffed into each slice of turkey is a prime rib steak. And in each slice of cheese you will find a baked potato jammed in there. Wrapped around each slice of bread are slices of breaded and deep-fried bacon. The toothpicks that hold the sandwich together are made of steel-reinforced lard.
• The Compensator - One pound of lean roast beef piled high on the four pounds of fat that was cut off of it to make it that lean. Instead of bread, this is served between two live crocodiles that have been lovingly stunned into docility for easy devouring.
• The Meat-meeters Meat-style Affair: This is a whole, fresh baby orangutan dipped in honey-mustard made of the aqueous humour distilled from whale eyeballs. This one comes with a slab of tofu with which to wipe your mouth.
• The Powerhouse - With this one you start with an entire loaf of sourdough bread and a bison. When you take a bite, a board-certified cardiologist pops out and punches you in the dick.

Friendster...now?

Ok, I just joined. Like, now. I also just recognized Alaska and Hawaii as states. Next week, I am going to start listening to something called "jazz" which seems to be very popular among the hopheads and negroes.

It's not my fault. I was perfectly content to live my life without a friend(ster) in the world. But somebody asked me to be their Friendster. I wouldn't want to be unfriendlyster. Or unfriendsterly. The point is, I wouldn't want to be a douche. Sometimes you can't help it -- sometimes you're just a douche. That's life. (Apologies for obviously cribbing that douche line from Anna Karenina. Boy, what a douche Tolstoy was. Well, that's what I heard.)

Now that I think of it, I wish that there was a website called "douchester." I would join that in a heartbeat. But then it would probably get cool and I'd have to wait 3 or 4 years for it to dork down again. And then I could rejoin.

There you go. TotalUnbelievableDorkSter. I could get behind that. Or SteamingTurdSter? I think I'd only be genuinely excited to join "Foodster" because I mostly just enjoy eating. And I wouldn't even join that. I'd just keep eating, you know, sort of freelance.

Maybe I'll start a website called LonerSter, and you just don't sign up. I think I might enjoy that.

Ode to the Beginning of Autumn

-by Jeff Mac

Ah, Autumn. Oh...uh...you. You back-to-schoolie time when we buy pencils. And by "we" I mean other people. Young people, most likely. Or older people who draw things and need that eraser. Ahhh, eraser. Sorry, different ode. Sorry, sorry.

Ah, when your leaves turn...ok, hold on. I'm not going to start sentences with "Ah" anymore. It's just my way of deflecting just how bad an ode this really is. But we all know it's a total shit ode, even among shit odes. I don't even know how many GOOD odes there are. Probably...eleven. Yeah, I'm sure that is the exact number.

Ok, recommencing ode.

Hey, Autumn! Nice rack! I mean "foliage." Fall foliage is nature's rack. And she's looking good. Mother Nature, you total MILF, you. (No MILFs were harmed in the writing of that sentence.)

Ok, time to say something three times. Clever poetry people do that, you know. Ok, uh, here we go.

Autumn dreams, floating in streams of golden orange.
floating in streams
floating in streams
floating in streams

I hope you don't mind, hope you don't mind that I've put down in ode. How wonderful life is, now Autumn's in the...wode.

Ugh.