Friday, October 14, 2011

Do’s and Don’ts on your next job interview

“The economy is headed straight down the large pipe that carries all human fecal matter into our great oceans.”
--Barack Obama

If that quote doesn’t scare the shit out of you, nothing will. I am nothing if not a realist. There are many people out of work these days; even you. You are out of work. You may not know it yet, but you are. They just haven’t told you yet. You have been fired. Your services are no longer required. Hit the streets. Fuck off. I’m serious.

Now that you are out of work I want you to have this list of Dos and Don’ts for the interview process. Be a do bee, not a don’t bee, and this will all work out OK. Just don’t swim in the ocean.

DO – Arrive for your interview thirty minutes early; preferably on a zip line smashing through the main window of the CEO’s office.

DON’T – Reach across the desk and stroke the cheek of your interviewer with your index finger and say “I could be real good to you.”

DO – Bring a list of questions about the company to ask at the end of your interview. Questions like:
-- Where all the white women at?
-- Is this the type of party in which there will be hookers?
-- When the CEO embezzled over 25 million dollars worth of company funds, was there at least an ice cream cake party at the bottom of everything? Was that his motivation?
-- Do the water fountains turn on automatically when you get near them? I find that after 9 AM, for the rest of the day, my god damned arms just won’t work or really move much at all.
-- Is this the company that makes Angry Birds?
-- Can I get an Angry Bird?
-- Are the Angry Birds artificially angry or do you purposely provoke them?
-- Are they actually birds or actors in suits?

DON’T – Shoot anyone while you are waiting to begin your interview. Some companies take this as a sign of weakness, since real men and women fight to the death via hand to hand combat with people who infringe upon their personal space.

DO – Open your mouth as wide as you can and keep it open at least 25 to 30 times during the interview. This will keep you relaxed while at the same time allow your interviewer to examine any recent dental work you may have had. Happy Teeth equals Happy Pete. NOTE: This will only work if your interviewer is named Pete.

DON’T – Inquire about the “availability” of the secretary you met when you arrived.
1. She is definitely available.
2. Not to you, dumpy.

DO – Complement your interviewer on their appearance as soon as you see them and as many times as you can in the next hour. Accompany this with physical aggression whenever possible. This will quickly establish your position as the alpha dog, while making the interviewer feel very good about how they look.

DON’T – Produce your resume until it is asked for or at all. If you do decide to take your resume out, don’t consider your penis a resume. It is not that.

DO – Wear a suit or a nice dress to your interview. Take it off as fast as you can before you get inside the building. The maintenance staff should take good care of your clothing outside while you dazzle the entire office with your natural god given talents.

DON’T – Use open handed slaps as punctuation for your sentences. This will result in an interviewer with very red cheeks which will cause you to laugh and not concentrate on securing your new job.

DO – Dance.

DON’T – Care.

DO – Crack your knuckles frequently during the interview process. This demonstrates an inner toughness and hints at the fact that you may be a bare-knuckle boxer in your spare time.

DON’T – Bring a lunch to your interview. You will most likely be presented with a five course meal at any interview that you attend. If you aren’t offered a meal, call 911 right away.

DO – Ask about the benefits the company offers. Among the benefits you should inquire about:
-- Friends with benefits
-- 401k, 401j, 401x, 402a, 403b
-- Dental reconstruction and titanium plating
-- Brain implants that give you the ability to see through walls and shit
-- The power of flight
-- Personal time off (ask for 30 weeks, but don’t go below 20)
-- Lawyer fees and general “bail me out of jail” crap
-- Ice Cream Allowances

DON’T – Sit on the lap of your interviewer at any time during the process. They will most likely try to sing you a lullaby and put you to sleep while rocking you gently. After that? God only knows what would happen.

DO – Immediately show outrage when asked about your salary requirements. I recommend saying: “If they won’t give me what I want, then you tell them I’m gunning for them! You tell them I’M COMING! AND HELL’S COMING WITH ME!”

Good luck on the job hunting trail. At least now you are armed with the knowledge you need to ace any interview. Before, you were just a baby with a suit on trying not to crap on the floor. Now you are an adult trying not to crap on the floor.

The difference is invaluable.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

Urgent Questions: XIV

How many times has the earth opened up under your feet and expelled hellacious demons and winged creatures screaming the cries of the eternally damned? Zero? Exactly. Will you go sleep in your own bed now?

Did you ever have one of those days where you just waltz into your boss’ office and say “Hey baldy, I’d like to let you in on a little secret…*whispering* you had me at…*sob*…expense report. *uncontrollable sobbing*” That’s an excerpt from my upcoming book “One way ticket to layoff-town: The fast track to poverty and homelessness.”

If Doctor Feelgood gave you a prescription for the “summertime blues”, would you tell him “I got the fever, and you got the cure! All this heroin makes my veins feel like tiny highways in hell! I would shake your hand, but I don’t know where mine are, and you look like a stone gargoyle with rainbow eyes! Great Balls of FIRE! Good Golly MISS MOLLY!” That’s not Doctor Feelgood, that’s your parole officer, and welcome back to rehab.

I can’t go to weddings anymore. I quickly find myself surrounded by 40 year old men all dancing like Fred “Rerun” Berry from What’s Happening. That’s enough to scare anyone into a coke habit.

When I hear people say “He really dances to the beat of a different drummer!” I think to myself “Why did God create so many retarded drummers?”

If four and twenty blackbirds were baked in a pie, would I have you arrested for animal cruelty right away, or let you continue your disgusting cooking habits?

If Mr. Clean grew his hair out and started panhandling down by Penn Station, would you call him “Mr. Filthy bum who needs to get a job”?

Will I ever be able to look at a park bench and not think about the time that I named one “Hazel” and tried to pass her off as my girlfriend? Will you ever stop bringing up the time Hazel and I showed up at the prom, and her dress was a little tight, and everyone called her Fatbench? She never got over that, thanks a lot.

If Mister Mister played a concert with Duran Duran, would the crowd puke from laughing so hard at all of the double-named bands playing on the bill, or would some jackass yell out “Freebird Freebird!” during the encore?

Will Tony ever wake up next to Lucy and think to himself “Lucy is an Italian whore’s name. Why in the world did I marry an Italian whore? Did I honestly think that she would give her heart to me and only me? Does she ever long to be back on the street, turning tricks and smoking Italian crack while eating meatballs? What have I done?” Relax Tony, Lucy is your dog. How many times do we have to go over this?

If you opened up a restaurant in Manhattan, would you call it “Craptastic Wonderburger Emporium of Country Fried Skullduggery and Yumtummery”? I would really appreciate it. That was my Grandmother’s dying wish.

If you wear a bowtie to your cousin’s wedding, and it suddenly starts spinning like a propeller during the ceremony, will you hurriedly try to stop it from spinning, or will you go with it and stand up in the church singing “Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gaaaaaaal!” while tap dancing? Good choice.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Q and A

I’ve been away for a while, it is true. I just got back from a fact finding tour of Las Vegas. I found so many facts. So many. All of the facts revolve around prostitution, autoerotic asphyxiation, prisoner’s rights and jailhouse etiquette. I won’t bore you with the details.

I thought it would be a good idea to reintroduce myself with a little Q and A session I recently did with Anderson Cooper of CNN. He was gracious enough to sit and interview me for 17 hours at my request. He fell asleep a few times but I just sprayed him with “water” to wake him back up again.

Quotes? What quotes? Around the word water? I don’t see any quotes there. You must be crazy. I sprayed him with water (wink, wink).

What wink? Stop making shit up.

I took down the transcript of the entire 17 hour conversation and whittled it down to a select few highlights.

Cooper: You have been called by many “The male equivalent of Liza Minelli”. Explain please.

M.O.M: Well Anderson, male is really a subjective term, you see what I mean? Are you male?

Cooper: Yes.

M.O.M: Well I’m sure I could find someone who says you are female. Who is right really? Who has the authority to make that call? Are you God?

Cooper: No I am not God. And a doctor has that authority.

M.O.M.: Well, when a doctor rolls up in here to check my Division Symbol then I guess we’ll know for sure.

Cooper: Division symbol?

M.O.M: My genitalia. I call it ‘Division Symbol’. One line separating two circles? Liza Minelli calls my genitals “Finger of God” hence the comparison. Next question.

Cooper: Roger Clemens implicated you in the recent steroid scandal that has rocked Major League Baseball. Were you involved in any way?

M.O.M: Andy, I can’t really talk much about this topic due to pending litigation. I will say this though: Roger Clemens had peanut-sized testicles long before he ever shot himself with that stuff. Don’t ask how I know, I just know.

Cooper: Can we get some of the crazier rumors out of the way that have been written about you?

M.O.M: Please do. I am an open book.

Cooper: One blogger wrote that you are actually 256 years old and immortal.

M.O.M: Two words: *leaning forward until nose touches Anderson Cooper’s nose* Russian. Dracula.

Cooper: *visibly shaken* Uh… Another reporter claims that she once found you naked and weeping at the foot of your bed while reading a Barbeque restaurant menu.

M.O.M: There was a *clears throat* ah, there was a 2 for 1 special *composing himself* 2 for 1...*pausing for 10 minutes while brushing tears from his eyes* Move on, can we move on? Next question?

Cooper: President Obama once punched you in the ribs.

M.O.M: True.

Cooper: Can you elaborate?

M.O.M: I can, but I will not. I will say that “Quartigont” is not a word in Scrabble or any other god damned place. If Obama is reading this he knows what I’m talking about. *raising voice* QUARTIGONT!

Cooper: Mother Theresa once collapsed your windpipe with a round kick.

M.O.M: That is not true. It was a front kick. She was a sweet woman, but a mean drunk.

Cooper: One more we can maybe put to rest: You once stared a man to death.

M.O.M: Unfortunately, that one is most definitely true.

Cooper: What happened?

M.O.M: It was at work. Raining outside. Windy. Someone came up to me, a Monday I believe it was, and asked me a question. *pauses to collect himself* I turned in my chair and said ‘What did you just say to me?’ I remember it like it was yesterday. He said: ‘Looks like you got a haircut this weekend? Did you just get the one hair cut or did you have the barber cut all of them?’ It took about two minutes from start to finish. I stared into his soul. His toothy smile turned to a straight line, then a frown. Then he was gone. I can’t really talk about it. Don’t ask me questions on Monday. What day is today?

Cooper: Tuesday

M.O.M: Well, it’s your lucky day Coop. *stares*

Cooper: If extraterrestrial life exists, and you could say one thing to them, what would you say?

M.O.M: Quartigont.

Cooper: Quartigont.

M.O.M: Yes. I owe Obama an apology. Not only is that a word that is THE word. You see what I’m saying? That is the only word that accurately sums up the human spirit and at the same time would put the fear of God into those invading alien bastards. You see?

Cooper: I’m not following you.

M.O.M: And why would you?

Cooper: I think that wraps up our interview here. On behalf of CNN, I’m Anderson Cooper. Goodnight.

Friday, February 4, 2011

More Letters from More Folks Just Like You!

Happy '11 everyone! Twenty-eleven. Or two thousand eleven. Or Two. Zero. One. One. for all you computers reading today. So far I have had an eventful new year. I didn't just break my own resolutions, I broke everyone's resolutions in my immediate vicinity. I am like a tornado of resolution breaking strength. A Tsunami (pronounced "Tits-Nami") of resolution eviscerating glory.

Anyway, I have received many letters from many many people spanning many many many area codes and homeless shelters. I present them to you. Please having some fun now.

Dear Mr. Atommmmmms Mannnnnn Arrrrrrrrrr,

Here there be pirates! Hoist the main sail and be smart about it ye scurvy dog! First man back with the treasure map gets the first swig of rum! ARRRRRR!

Captain Jack Ass

Dear Captain Ass,

My hoisting days are over (bad back, you know). Either way, I find your language offensive. Scurvy is a very serious disease. Plus, it is a seriously bad idea to drink any kind of alcohol and perform intensive heavy labor as is found when trying to man a crew aboard a large water craft. ‘Just say No’ and stay in school, Captain Ass. Um. Arrr?

Dear blog writer,

What did you do for your New Years’s?

Curious in Caracas

Dear Curious,

How many years are we talking about here? Every New Year ever? The last ten? Your pluralization skills are giving me the absolute shits here. Go back to school.

Anyway, with regards to your question, I spent my New Year the same way I always do:

-- Wake up
-- Violently kick all the sheets and blankets off the bed because I swear there was a spider on them. I know I saw it.
-- Look around some more for the spider
-- Toss out a few idle threats in case the spider is hiding and watching me. He can hear me, believe it.
-- Sprint downstairs (spiders are fast)
-- Catch my breath and just start screaming in case the spider got some friends
-- Continue screaming until I pass out
-- Hopefully wake up in time to watch Santa drop a ball on the Easter Bunny while cupid tries to shoot him with an arrow.

I heard that they dropped some sort of massive crystal ball very slowly on a pole in Times Square? Is that right? What is that supposed to signify anyway? The calendar date is changing, let’s rig a massive paperweight to some pulleys and lower it slowly from a high point to a slightly less higher point? Man, if that doesn’t get you fired up for another year of working in a cubicle, I don’t know what will.

Dear Martina Navratilova,

You are my favorite lesbian tennis player. Do you have any advice for young lesbian tennis players just starting out? When you were hitting tennis balls, did you pretend they were testicles to give you an extra burst of energy? You must hate testicles right? Because they are man balls?

Athletic in Atlanta

Dear Athletic,

You have no idea how much I hate man balls. No idea. At Wimbledon in 1989, I caught a tennis ball in my mouth and chewed it to bits in pure anger and rage. Male genitals have no place in this world or any other. So say I.

Anyway, follow your lesbian dreams. And send me detailed accounts of those dreams. So I can help you. With

(Editors Note: The writer of this blog is not female, a lesbian, a tennis player or Martina Navratilova.)

Dear Mr. Peanut,

I enjoy your blog occasionally. Occasionally I do not enjoy it. Right now, you are running at a 43 percent success rate with me. In baseball you would be on the all star team with a .430 batting average. In football, you would be a third string quarterback with a 43 percent completion rate.

So my question to you is: Are you going to be a baseball man or a football man?

Half-and-Half in Halifax

Dear Half,

I’m going to be a curling man and I’ll tell you why. I use the same techniques when eating dinner that are used in curling. I cut my steak and then frantically brush at my plate until the piece of steak ends up in my mouth. Don’t ask how that works, just love it for what it is. Anyway, screw you and your 43 percent. You can enjoy 98 percent of my fist against your lower jaw the next time I see you. Take care and God Bless, Father.

Dear Madam,

You are three months overdue on your Netflix payments. Please immediately return the following titles:

-- Lassie Get Out!
-- Osama Bin Lassie
-- Lassie and the Bandit 4: Makin Puppies!
-- The Piano
-- Alvin and The Chipmunks 6: Oh my god their voices are even squeakier than before how in fuck is that possible?
-- The Notebook
-- The Notebook 2: Electric Boogaloo
-- Four Weddings and a Fifth Wedding
-- Richie Rich
-- Halloween 37: Just kill me already. You walk faster than I run somehow and I’m ready to die.

Please remit payment immediately, or return these titles, or we will be forced to notify the proper authorities.

Netflix Collection

Dear Ms. Flix,

Fine. You can have all of these awful movies back. Except one. I claim ‘The Notebook’ as my own. You will have a hellish apocalypse on your hands if you try to take it from me. I am not afraid. I will die for this movie. Will you? He reads her *sob* their story. So she will remember...god, this is hard...their love...from...The Notebook! *collapsing in a pile of tears*

Dear dear dear oh dear,

Well, I’ve done it again! Open the door, birds come at me! Close the door, crap my pants! Same thing happens every year! Why do the holidays do this to me? There go the birds! They fly right at me raising a ruckus and knock my toupee askew! They are so loud and fluttery! What should I do?

Messy in Montana

Dear Mess,

If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, birds fly through open doors. It’s. What. They. Do. Those whore birds would fly through every door in the universe if they could. Keep the door closed you silly such and such! That would eliminate the embarrassing bowel movement issue as well. Just stay in your house and cling to your toupee as if your life depended on it, you monumental boob.

Dear person who types this mess of a thing,

My bubble bath has worms. Can you recommend a carpenter? My shoes are no longer walking. The sun is falling down into my soup cans! Will you attend the seminar?


On that note, I bid you all adieu. Which as we all know, in French, means “Git off’n my property!” Wait, that is the Wild West translation. It actually means “Go forth and multiply. Especially with Barry White playing in the background or something with a wicked bass line.” Those French people: so horny.
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