Five Things-The Ping Edition: 4/14/14

1) Oh for fuck’s sake..they’re never gonna find that fucking plane.

It’s gone. Vapor. Too bad Malaysia lacked the balls to handle this whole mess correctly from the beginning. No wonder Al Qaida loves it there–y’all are clueless.

All of the possible runways long enough to support a Triple 7. (via NorthShoreJournal.org)

All of the possible runways long enough to support a Triple 7. (via NorthShoreJournal.org)

As much as I’d like to think the crew and passengers are safe, they’re not. It’s heartbreaking, and the families didn’t have to go through this shit storm.

 

2) One thing I’ve discovered is that if you get enough coffee in me, I can sing just like Carly Simon. True story.

 

3) Update to number 2: Add pot with the coffee, and I can sing just like Carol Channing.

 

4) One of the fun things about being a writer is if anyone fucks with you, you can write about it. Put it down on paper, in blog, book, or even on the bathroom wall. One doesn’t have to write it out verbatim which is nice. Plus, writing it out word-for-word could land you in court. I had this happen to me recently–being verbally berated for being me. I honestly don’t know where it came from, and I’ll admit it stung a bit.

Kinda like a kick to the tits when they’re sore–you know, like right before menses starts.

I told a few friends that being called fat and ugly wouldn’t have hurt so much.

However, almost as quickly as it entered my soul, it left and being the creative type that I am, I immediately wrote it all down for future use. It’s been put in the holster and will surface at the primo moment.

Until then, anything you want to say to me, g’head and mail it to my ass.

 

5) It’s PROBABLY not a good idea to fuck with an airline on Twitter about Al Qaida.

(via NY Daily News)

(via NY Daily News)

It gets better. Really.

(via Uproxx)

(via Uproxx)

 

When they made you dumb, they made you really dumb.

(via Uproxx)

(via Uproxx)

Five for Friday: September 20, 2013

So, I’m going to continue with this Five Things idea for a bit to see where it takes me.

1) I got this little gem via a journo listserv I’m a member of.

“An unnamed digital media company in Chicago seeks stories at $7 a pop.”

I’ll keep the next few sentences simple since I’m sure you’re also in a state of shock due to what you just read. We want four AP style stories a day with a word count hovering around 400 per story. Great communication skills are a must. Please send your resume and 4 clips to fuckthewriter@bohica.com.

After I fashioned a bag of ice over my sore noggin (it’s sore from banging it against the wall after reading the listserv email), I tried to imagine the level of the mind that believes it’s okay to pay a writer a measly $7/post. Why the hell not? Them’s just words! Anyone can do it! You know, that makes total sense so sign me up!

I’d rather eat ground glass.

2) I wanna know the methodology that was used for this study.

Penis Map Of The World Exposes Weenie Size In Each Country

Plus, ain’t it kinda a cool that dong size has little to do with potency? See, that’s how it’s done denizens of certain South American and African countries. Not only are the Indians and Chinese kicking our asses in so many other ways, their wee schvantzes are helping to produce shitloads of humans to ensure that they’ll be kicking our asses for generations to come. In other words, size ain’t an issue … in some instances.

(via rosalie-schweiker.wikispaces.com)

(via rosalie-schweiker.wikispaces.com)

3) This is real. Not kidding.

(via Inquisitr.com)

(via Inquisitr.com)

It’s the latest Boeing 777 in Eva Air’s fleet of flying machines. Eva Air, by the way, is the Taiwanese airline. You can get in touch with your inner-confused hipster who sports ironic tats, facial hair, piercings and fedoras, by taking one of the three flights between Taipei and Los Angeles each week. Then, you can Instagram it, put pix of you acting all goofy inside the plane on one of your many Tumblrs, then get a tat of the plane on your lower back.

4) Now, this tat was on a “20 Tattoos That You Should Get Removed” page. I’m confused though–I don’t see what the problem is.

(via RedCastle83)

(via RedCastle83)

5) Aaaaaaaaaaaand I’ll just leave this here. Enjoy!

Hot Off The Presses!

Things are finally starting to look up.

Why you ask? Well, I’m in NYC, probably the most fascinating city in the US if not the whole darn world, AAAAAAND I got one of the first copies of the eagerly awaited tome LAME ADVENTURES: UNGLAMOROUS TALES FROM MANHATTAN by my newest pal, Virginia Antonelli. Now, I haven’t had the chance to read it yet, but I will when I finish the current book I’m reading.

I cannot wait.

You wanna know the best part?

I got to hang with the author last night in the city. I had a lovely time. She showed me some cool places, and we had a great time hanging out, laughing, boozing it up and chatting.

I am so happy to have a new friend.

So, my three readers, I highly recommend you check this book out.

20130511-221713.jpg

I apologize for the bad quality of the pic, but I’m using my iPad to post this, and well, let’s just say the marriage between WordPress and the iPad tis a rocky one.

NONETHELESS, read this book! You can get it from Amazon.com

You’re welcome!

Love,
Julia

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.

After 50, It’s All Patch, Patch, Patch …

I’ve been pondering lately why I am a writer slash journalist. Is it because my great-grandfather was a writer slash journalist? Is it because I love it? Is it because I’m allll about telling stories, making up characters and whatnot? Is it because I looooove digging through public records, getting irascible sources to talk to me? Is it because I adore composing FOIAs in my sleep? NOOO! It’s because I knew that someday I would compose something pithy enough to capture the attention of one Jon Erickson.

Why…yes..YES that IS the reason.

Erickson, a fellow Chicagoan who is now an Ohioan who blogs, has a birthday today–a big one too–the big 5-0.

Happy, happy to the only man over 20 who uses emoticons more than a 13-year-old girl.  Keep on keepin’ on!

Good head(ers)

Something must be happening in the news world because some of the headlines I’ve read have been top-notch, A+, guffaw-inducing. Or, editors are finally understanding the wonderful world of SEO.

Of course, the stories are worth a read too, but the real craft — the real stories — are the heds.

Ahem.

Courtesy of Yahoo.com

Angry ex-girlfriend goes ballistic, rips off man’s scrotum

See what the editor did there? Aces.

Let’er rip.

The rest of the story is balls too.

This next one, I don’t even need to read the rest of the story. From Mother Nature Network.

Rocker gets rabies shots after bat urinates in his eye

Torche guitarist Andrew Elstner shares his strange and informative experience on Facebook

 

If you feel the need to move onto the rest (but what’s the point?) of the story, you can here.

When I initially read this hed, I thought the Queen was adopting her new granddaughter in-law. Or, Kate Middleton is adopting the Queen. Or the Queen is pregnant is Kate Middleton. Huh. The main lesson here is never read a hed until after the Ambien fog has lifted.

From The Frisky.

Kate Middleton Forced To Get Pregnant As Adoption Won’t Work For The Queen

Oh, NOW I get it. Duh.

This next one isn’t the most compelling headline, but it’s just so damn cute!

From io9.

Picky hermit crab lives in a multicolored LEGO shell

I love that the hermit crab has been dubbed ‘picky’ when all he really did was want a bigger place to house his gigantic crab ass.

It’s a cute story, natch.

Of course there’s vidya of Harry the Hermit showing off his new digs to his jealous aquarium mates.

 

The Versatile Blogger Award

I would like to thank whomever thought of this award, and for giving a kid from a West suburban, upper-middle class background a chance! I don’t know where I’d be without a stable family, a good education and the opportunities awarded to someone of my class.

Today, I sit at my MacBook Pro before my two cats, a messy apartment, “The Town” showing on HBO for the gazillionth time, a winner of the Versatile Blogger Award. Who is responsible for bestowing this honor upon McCrabass? Why it’s none other than the fabulous Sandra who writes the faboo blog, She Can’t Be Serious.  This also means that someone chose my blog as one of their 15 featured blogs. My mission, along with walking the Earth and ridding it all things bad with my Ouiser Boudreaux wisdom, is to pay it forward by honoring 15 blogs I find to be apex of awesome.

During my tenure as an award recipient, I must agree to the following conditions:

1) Thank the person who gave me this award and link them back to their post.

2) Share 7 things about myself.

3) Pass this award along to 15 recently discovered blogs and let them know about it!

First, about McCrabass..

1) I worked in Hollywood for a long time in post-production. I actually worked in the field I got my degree it–a first for many and very rare in this day and age. I left because I got tired of being treated like crap by a handful of people who had all the power–undeserved power. Being yelled at by someone because their Starbuck’s wasn’t foamy enough is a big bowl of wrong. I don’t care how many men you blew to get your job.

2) I’ve had the chicken pox twice, and have been bitten by a Black Widow Spider once.

3) When I say no, I mean it.

4) Contrary to what the public seems to think, I don’t think clipped cat hair would make a good sweater.

5) I could watch “Godfather Pts I & II” over and over again. Same with “Just Wright.” Somewhere between those three choices is sanity.

6) The most unusual job I ever had was editing porn.

7) If you tell my parents about #6, I’ll have to hunt you down and cover you in cock rings.

Now, for the blogs I dig and are now also worthy recipients of the Versatile Blogger Award. Some are funny, some more serious, but they’re all worth a look. Please check them out–I know you’ll find something within them you enjoy. If not, you’re dead inside.

Geneva Daily Photo

Squathole 

If Weather Was a Dick, It’d be …

Candy Coated Rose Petals

Office Crap

Tortoise off On a Wild Hare!

Robert Loerzel 

Samalamadingdong

Poorly Dressed People 

Lame Adventures

Sally Duros

Throw Grammar From the Train

What’s With *Today* Today

Bindy Fry’s Itty Bitty Brain Basket

MarkCz

I’ll probably add more over the next few days. Until then, please read them. Hell, even subscribe to them. They’re worth it. Trust me!