Five Things: 12/5/13

Gosh, it’s gonna be a balmy 18 degrees today in Chicago..down considerably from the upper-50s we had yesterday. Welcome to winter, now bend over.

1) SHAMELESS SELF PROMOTION TIME: The app I’ve been working on for the past few months goes LIVE today. It’ll be available for FREE on iTunes for iPad and iPhone. Android’ll happen in early ’14. This is a very cool app, folks. It’s like Pandora/Spotify but for news. Yes, you can customize the news you want to hear. Right now, we’re mainly Chicago-centric, BUT we do national and world stories. Soon, we’ll be moving to Dallas, LA and the rest of the major markets.
The best part? You’ll get to hear my dulcet tones–especially later today AND this weekend.

2) Oh, for fuck’s sake, CNN, get it RIGHT. You’re a frickin’ media company with some pretty smart people working there (supposedly). How difficult is it to check your work?

(via Media Matter for America)

(via Media Matter for America)

None of this would’ve happened had they hired ME some four years ago.

Yes, I’m that good.

3) Could English pig jizz be the answer to China’s problems? Well, for some of them anyway. (via the Guardian)

UK and China agree £45m pig semen export deal

Environment secretary Owen Paterson says he has also begun negotiations to export pigs’ trotters to China
I’ll translate. Chinese pigs aren’t that great–they suck, in fact–so the Chinese are seeking the help of Brit pigs and their super sperm to make the Chinese ones better.
Or, you can just read about it here.
Side note: UK porcine semen is an excellent name for a punk band filled with has-beens, OR for an ’80s tribute band.
4) Couple of things here…why would any woman want to become a virgin again? Why? Because losing your virginity was so much fun the first time? Give me a break. You know it sucked, so why go through it again? Y’all do realize there are some ethnic groups in this world that cut up the whoo-haas of young girls to make sure they remain a virgin, right? ‘Tis a little thing called genital mutilation. It’s forced too.
Second, I don’t know if this is real, but it’s fucking funny.
Screen shot 2013-12-05 at 7.39.49 AM
For those of you gals who like a challenge, and are all about reliving your youth, but not in the typical way, this may be for you.
5) One of my muses. Enjoy.

 

Five Things: 11/12/13

1) I never thought that having a part-time news producing gig would turn me into a big sack of goo at the end of the day. But it has, and that’s a good thing. I can finally talk a bit about what I’m working on, and I must admit, it’s smashing.

If you’re interested, check out the site-in-progress. If you’re lucky, you’ll get to hear my dulcet tones reporting on allll sorts of goings-on and shenanigans.

I learned the hard way that I have a face for radio. Trust me, you don’t wanna see my mug. You’ll be scarred for life.

The app goes live on iTunes on December 3rd. For those of you who own iPhones and iPads, you can get the app for FREE FREE FREEE then. For Android users, you’ll have to wait a bit longer.

Stay tuned.

2) “I’m doin’ it for my kids.” Seems innocent enough, yes? You have a family. A mortgage, maybe a pet or two. Since families can be expensive, it’s best if both parents work, right?

(via GossipCenter)

(via GossipCenter)

Well, one would think this would be a good idea…yes.
Looks like the soon-to-be-ex Mrs. Tito Ortiz is returning to her former-career: Fucking on camera for shit-tons of money.

(via TeresAmerica.Blogspot)

(via TeresAmerica.Blogspot)

 

But, wait..if memory serves, didn’t Ms. Jameson spew at the 2008 AVN Awards that:

“I’ll never, ever, ever spread my legs again in this industry. Ever.”

Why? Well, she needs to support her family. Yes, I know that’s the reason she gave as to WHY she was leaving the skin-flick trade, but now she’s come full circle.
What a good mommy. Hope she kicked that boozin’ and drivin’ habit. And Tito.

3) Apparently, toilet paper isn’t enough for some folks. OR, some folks are so fucking lazy that they don’t know how to properly wipe their poo-covered evil eye, so some genius invented these:

(via Amazon.com)

(via Amazon.com)

I shit you not. They’re REAL.

You know, I’m not gonna go into it. For more info, just click here. If you like ‘em, I don’t want to hear about it. Same goes for if you use ‘em.

Of course, there’s a video.

4) Wanna know when you’re gonna take a dirt nap forever? Then buy this alarm clock. It’ll tell you when you’re gonna die every morning. That’s a good enough reason to get out of bed, unless today’s the day. Then, just lie there and wait for Death to spirit you away.

I’ve had a chance to ponder this and I think it’s brilliant! Imagine–alarm clock says you’re set to die in a week. What to do, what to do ….Hmmm..rubs chin..picks nose.. Maybe a crime spree? A drinking/meth binge? Run nekkid through your office and pee on your boss? Maybe diddle your boss or his/her spouse and FILM IT? Think about it–the possibilities are ENDLESS.

Via The Verge.

Alarmclock wakes you up with the time you’ll die

You’re welcome.

5) Oh, and here’s your 1980′s ear worm. Believe me, this hurts me more than it hurts you, but you must learn and that’s that.

Next time, just put the damn lotion in the basket, and you won’t be subjected to cheeeezeh listenin’ tunes.

 

 

Dawg Daze

Why, yes–I am back.

For the moment at least.

I’ve been buried in a story about this dead gal, and while it’s been quite the education, it has also taken over my life for the past month. I’m done and now I wait.

Yeah..yeah..yeah…I know we’re in the Dog Days of Summer and my three readers are probably either on vacation in Branson, or in prison. See, I figure that it’s been a while since I’ve paid any attention to this blog, it’s best that I don’t jump in–tits first–since most of my writing for the past month has been about serious stuff. I don’t know what’s funny anymore.

Fortunately, I have my fellow humans to once again prove to me that we live in a world that is always chock-full of weird and wacky shit. So, attention must be paid.

You know what? Sleep is so overrated. It is. Eight to 10 hours of shut-eye a night is for pussies. I’ve been an insomniac for years, and I’m not *quite* sure why my body/mind doesn’t require sleep, but I have a damn good idea as to what might be one of the many causes.

All I can say is HOLY FUCK.

New Spider from Laos Named after Actor Dominic Monaghan

I don’t give a red rat’s ass that there’s a spider named for some actor, it’s the fact that Mother Nature has decided that this world needs another fucking spider. Why a spider? WHY, DAMN YOU?!!? Is a new species of spider *really* necessary? Why not something harmless like a new horse species? Or an even hedgehog? (like that’s possible)

I’m off to buy a hermitically sealed house.

Oh… this kid needs therapy. Peepee whacking in this case should be done by someone with sharp stick. Yes, I understand this is what young lads do, but there is something fakakta about a ‘tween jackin’ it on mom’s Martex towels she got on special at Macy’s.

Yeah..yeah..yeah…Anthony Weiner. Big whup. You’re a choad, not because you were sexting (I mean really, who cares?), but because you said you weren’t going to do it anymore after your last very public “oops.” Plus, you think that New Yorkers are stupid, which we all know ain’t the case. True story–New Yorkers will always be the first ones to tell you just how smart they are. *YAWN.* What I love about this story is how the word ‘slutbag’ is now part of the McCrabass vernacular. The said thing is, Barbara Morgan will probably get a new job before I do.

I like this hed better: “Monkeys throw poo at selfish people.” Too bad the story isn’t about poo-flinging because that would be something I could get behind.

Finally, I am a journalist because I hope to cover a story like this someday soon.

Passenger said he only wanted to travel together with his ‘beloved’ pet
Screen shot 2013-08-02 at 8.48.17 PM

Aaaand I’m done.

 

Rut City, Population: Me

I’m fried. Burned out. Toast. Beat to a pulp. Dead behind the eyes. Numb.

And I haven’t done anything physically taxing. It doesn’t make sense.

I’m suffering from knowing that I have no purpose, nothing to offer and nothing to show for my roughly four decades on this rock.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again: Being unemployed blows fucking donk.

It has zapped my energy, my will to create as well as my will to be out among the living. Sure, teeny, tiny freelance gigs trickle in from time to time, but that ain’t enough to put the thoughts of tri-state crime sprees out of my noggin. I listen to my friends bitch, whine and moan about their jobs, and I have to turn off all of my impulses to fucking throttle them with my she-woman strength.

There are times when I feel like this character from Game of Thrones, is hiding in the  surprisingly under-utilized section of my soul–she’s a loyal, badass who will fuck you up if you cross her.

Brienne of Tarth (courtesy of pandawhale.com)

Brienne of Tarth (courtesy of pandawhale.com)

A bit maudlin, I know, but I’m allowed. I still scroll through shitloads of job leads every day. Some I apply to, others get trashed.

Then, there are those job leads that cause me to utter aloud WHAT THE ENTIRE FUCK??

Don’t believe me? Here, check out this gem from a Houston all news-all the time-radio station.

Enjoy.

jobdescription

The actual requirements for the job–news editor/managing editor–were much shorter, see. And, they were typical news editor/ME duties like solid news judgment, assignment desk duties, AP Style knowledge, etc. When I read this list of “requirements” my first thought was, “Huh, yeaaaahhh…aren’t these requirements for being a well-adjusted adult?”

Not so fast.

So, as the news editor/ME, I wouldn’t be allowed to do my job–which entails being direct, sometimes demanding and expecting professionalism at all costs–but I’m not really allowed to express what I want for fear of hurting feelings or putting someone off.

I did send them a resume/cover letter combo platter and here’s a snippet of what I wrote, but nicer.

I’m a seasoned professional who is capable of working with others under stressful situations, and I expect that out of my colleagues as well. I’m tough, but fair because I realize that the news business is not always so. As for ‘evolving self-awareness’ — if you can explain what that is exactly, you’ll be able to hire whomever you choose.”

Of course, they called me.

Turns out, they have no clue about anything, and want tons of experience for roughly 9 bucks/hour and no (surprise!) relocation expenses paid even though this was advertised on a NATIONAL journo jobs website. A friend pointed out to me that the previous news editor/ME probably either got fired, or quit because he/she was doing their job, and not playing wet nurse to a bunch of fucking over-sensitive, pants-wetting, maladjusted dipshits.

Yeaaah … I’m gonna have to give you a big, fat NO.

The bigger picture here is this is what I am (and the millions of other US citizens who are unemployed) up against: These wish lists of skills put together by completely clueless hiring managers and HR departments who don’t know what they hell they’re talking about. I was recently asked to take geometry/algebra test for an editing job.

Yep, I shit you not.

I said no, then told the hiring manager that if I was going to be eliminated from consideration, is should be on a level playing field. I told her that testing me on something I haven’t done in almost 30 years is grossly unfair. She agreed and I didn’t have to take the test. I interviewed, and we’ll see if I get a call back.

Back to Houston, care to wager that they have an incredibly high turnover rate?

PS–I’ll be in NYC next week, so I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say. So, watch this space.

All Is Right With the World Again

Really, Jules? How can you say this–especially after you experienced a quick & painful hiccup in your non-existent career yesterday?

iggy_pop_and_the_stooges-hollywood_palladium_ACY6879

Well, here’s why.

From Rolling Stone.

Iggy Pop and the Stooges Ready New Album for April Release

‘Ready to Die’ features guitarist James Williamson, drummer Scott Asheton

Now, this makes me smile.

See, my three readers, 2013 was starting to look like yet another shitty year for McCrabass until I heard this news. I saw Iggy a long time ago in LA and it was quite the show–he was loud, crude-as-fuck and just plain out of control. It was one of the best times I’ve ever experienced standing up. I mean, I almost tossed my granny knickers at him, but was afraid he’d put them on and they’d be too big. He’s alluring in an ugly-sexy kinda way–if that makes any sense.

So, when I heard my favorite skanky, blue-eyed boy & the Stooges were releasing an album–some 40 years after the last one with James Williamson and Scott Asheton–I did a slow nod and muttered to my empty living room “Niiiice.” Yeah, very un-Iggy-esque but I gave up heroin before I even started and my leathers are being repaired.

IggyPopStooges

Iggy Pop and the Stooges are ready with a new record, Ready to Die, which will mark the first time Pop has worked with guitarist James Williamson and drummer Scott Asheton on a full album since their 1973 classic Raw Power. As he’s done since the Stooges’ 2003 reunion, Mike Watt will fill in for the late Ron Asheton on bass. It’ll be Iggy and the Stooges’ first album since 2007′s The Weirdness, which was the last to feature Ron Asheton. Ready to Die is due April 30th on Fat Possum Records.

I don’t like to wish my life away, but April 30th can’t come soon enough. That’s kind of sad–I’m sliding down Crap Mountain again and I’m looking forward to an album release like I’m some sort of love-struck teenie bopper.

I need a do-over.

 

 

Interview THIS!

During my unemployment tenure, I’ve been playing past job interviews on a loop in my head, and I’ve come to one main conclusion: They were all an amalgam of this infamous one from Monty Python:

Obviously, I am doing something wrong. Yes? I think so.

I’m too formal and stiff in my interviews. I wear interview clothes. I speak interview speak. I glop on interview makeup. I style my hair into interview goodness (read: I hide the purple highlights). I research the shit out of any position I’m up for as well as the company and the people with whom I’ll be meeting.

Yeaaaah….that tactic ain’t workin’ no mo’. So it’s time I change things up a scosch.

I’ve even perused all of the drab “How to Ace An Interview Without Shitting Yourself and Smacking the Crap Out of the Clueless Interviewer” vidyas the Internets. None of them are helpful and I swear a few of the ‘actors’ featured are ‘stars’ of some of the low-rent porn I’ve seen lurking around the web as of late.

I’ve found a few examples in my travels and could use some help. That’s where my three readers come in–I need y’all to help me figure out which example displayed below would work for me. Well, maybe not exactly the same as what I’m offering here, but perhaps a combo platter of several, or maybe you know of others I haven’t thought of yet.

Here’s Bachelor #1–from one of my fave movies “Trainspotting”. One caveat here–I won’t get stoned before an interview–not my style anymore. I mean, I’m not in Hollywood anymore. That’s a non-negotiable at this point. However, the accent is a possibility. I can do just about any accent too–but my personal faves are South Asian (Dot Head is NOT the preferred nomenclature I’ve been told) and Little Asian Girl.

This one is good too, but I don’t look good in a wife beater unless it’s wet and I’m dancing on a bar in Waco. But, I do like Gettin’ Jiggy Wif It’s attitude here. Works for me

This one is just too smarmy for the most part. Topsiders? Nope. But, Ben Affleck is wicked hawt all the time so that’s something to consider.

I actually called an interviewer Pam in an interview when her name was really Pan. True story. So, this scene flashed through my mind during that 2 hour-long snoozefest of an interview at California Psychics.

Don’t know if I’m as clever as Sacha Baron Coen. I’d never be able to keep a straight face or wear that type of Jewfro.

Arthur Spooner is a folk hero. He was deftly portrayed by Jerry Stiller, and when Stiller first joined the cast of “King of Queens”, I was half-expecting a Frank Costanza Redux, but Arthur Spooner quickly became his own character. He was the best part of “King of Queens.” So, in this episode where he offers Spence Olchin (Patton Oswalt), job interviewing advice, it almost made me wet my Costco knickers.

and this one because it’s funny ..

Then, there’s this one. It’s not exactly a job interview, I just love Red’s “Yeah, fuck you” attitude in this scene. To me, it’s the best scene in film that’s loaded with best scenes. Also, I’m not into using swears during a job interview. I think that sets a bad precedent because I believe if hired, I’d be expected to swear all the time. While that’s very easy for me to do (I’m fluent in Salty Language), I don’t think I’d be long for that job, you know what I mean? Anyhoo, I do like Red’s attitude. He has nothing to lose and I’d like to be more like that in my next interview.

So, folks. There you have ‘em. If you have nothing better to do, please feel free to drop me some advice. The winner will get a pony.

A Somber Anniversary

This week marks a frustrating and sad anniversary for me: Two years ago–January 21, 2011–was my last day at my editing gig at a trade/B2B publication here in Chicago.

First, allow me to back it up a titch and regale you about how the fun began two weeks earlier.

I arrived at work on that crappy cold-as-fuck morning, had just enough time to put my stuff down on my desk, take off my coat, and say hello to my co-workers before the Editor-in-Chief asked me to take a walk with him. I found this a bit odd since he never paid me much attention, unless it was to gripe about something, or if he needed me to order some sort of pen.

So, when we rounded the corner that separated the newsroom from sales, and into a small conference room where the resident HR drone was waiting, my stomach flip-flopped. My mouth went dry and my chest felt like it was going to resemble Kane’s in “Alien”–but with my heart bursting out & smacking both the EIC and HR right in their mugs instead of a parasite that would eventually kill the entire fucking masthead. A wry smile crossed my lips for a brief second at that thought, but it quickly vanished when I heard the following:

“Um, yeah. Julia. We’re going to lay you off–it’s nothing personal of course–we’re just eliminating your position so we can add more to the sales team.”

What happened next few minutes was a blur. I do, however, remember giving the EIC a look that would kill a planet, tightening my jaw until it ached and feeling the tears starting to build up. Sadly, the death glare didn’t land because he wouldn’t look me in the face, but he did manage to set the land speed record for waddling out of the conference room so he could alert my colleagues of my fate.

You know, to save face and look like a fucking hero.

“Gosh, we really like Julia, but tight budgets are preventing us from keeping her on. So, I know she’s looking for work, so please help her out if you can.”

My immediate boss was absent that day so when she got my tearful phonecall an hour later, needless to say, she was furious. The next couple of weeks were a blur of phonecalls to friends slash possible employers, resume prep, buckets of tears, lashing out at everyone, allowing my shocked soon-to-be-former co-workers take me out for lunches and post-work drinks, and trying my damndest to not kick both the EIC and ME in the balls. It took alll of my god-given strength to NOT throw my ass in the shitastic Chicago River when I learned that an intern would be doing my job.

Not personal, eh? Go fuck yourself.

The last couple of years hurled all sorts of puke/jiz-filled crappy crap at me. I don’t know which moments were the most fucked-in-the-head: Was it the the snow storm that hit the area about a week after I was canned? Or was it the pubic-hair freezing cold that pounded Chicago in the ass afterwards? Or, was it going out to LA to look for work and have many jobs dangled in front of me only to have them taken away just as I was making arrangements to move my life west? Maybe it was three interviews I had with a certain Chicago media outlet that always hired someone too young and inexperienced over me, only to have that person leave a few months later because the work was “too hard.” This happened three times.

It coulda been the publisher in Florida who flat-out asked me my age during a phone interview, and when I gently reminded him that what he was asking me was, gosh, ILLEGAL, he proclaimed he didn’t care. I ended the interview soon after.

Perhaps it was the approximately 500 carefully crafted resumes with the appropriate key words and phrases I sent out that were probably mocked, laughed at and tossed in digital circular files–I have no idea which one of these events have helped push me down Crap Mountain the fastest, but I do know this much–

THE LAST TWO YEARS HAVE BEEN A MAJOR PIG FUCK.

Somedays, I can’t move. I don’t leave the apartment. I read my New York Times, the New Yorker, maybe watch my stories on the tee vee, watch porn on the computer–anything to distract me from the fact that I am a miserable failure. While I am well aware that there are many in my situation–and in worse situations–I can’t worry about them. Does that make me cold & heartless? Naah, it makes me realistic because I highly doubt they give a red rat’s ass about me.

Other days, I work on my book that no one will ever read, do Bikram yoga and consider cooking meth in my kitchen. I help other friends find work, read reports and a thesis or two for a pittance. I cheer when my friends find work, and am sad for them when they lose their jobs. My happiness for their successes is genuine, but so is my anger and resentment. It’s difficult to be around friends who are successful and have jobs, so I don’t go out much. Plus, this city is expensive.

I’m thankful for my health (knock on wood), and the facts that I’m well-educated, and don’t have a mortgage or kids to worry about. I don’t want to think about where I’d be if either of those were a factor.

I felt some cold-comfort upon learning that both the EIC and ME were canned under new management. Since it’s not my style to revel in someone else’s misfortunes, my happiness immediately turned to concern because they both have families and mortgages. But then again, they’ll probably find work before I do, so fuck ‘em.

So, what am I to do? Keep getting out of bed every day. Keep on with the writing because my book is turning out to be a gem.

And most of all, not listen to those folks who tell me I can’t succeed. One of ‘those folks’ happens to be me, but that voice is getting fainter and fainter with each passing moment.

I think Madonna said it best below.