MySpace Archive: The Unemployment Saga, Part the Third

In an attempt to beef up this blog's appearance before I actually tell anyone about its existence, and also to relive some of my wacky antics over on MySpace, I am archiving all of my old posts over here at The Slog.

This is the third (well fourth, but I'm not picky) post from the dark days of my own personal unemployment hell. Not to be confused with my own current personal employment hell. It includes a naked and blatant appeal for cash - something I do less of than one might think. It also includes a naked and blatant Chihuahua-esque creature - my hideous little dog Sparky . I think it's also his first appearance of many in the Wolter-related blogosphere, but I'm too lazy to double-check that.

[Originally Posted on 10/18/06]

Well, I'm about to interview (Save MY house, not Screech's)

At a temping agency. How great is my life?

I need some money real fast. November is right around the corner, and I have precisely Jack + Squat to give the landlord. Which could put me and my delightful little dog-like animal buddy Sparky out on the mean streets of Lincoln Square.

Anyone out there feel the need to just mail random checks to a guy in Chicago? Or hell, I could get a paypal account, if that's easier. Actually, I already have a paypal account...I think...I should check on that.

You don't want poor little Sparky out on the streets. He's at least 3/4 chihuahua, and is balding, twitchy, and irritable as is. If he's cold as well, I'm going to be nursing ankle scars for the rest of my life.

And unlike Screech, if you save my house, I promise you DON'T have to hear my crappy stand-up.

Remember that "Screech House" debacle? That sure dates this piece. Man, if Dustin Diamond were beaten to death with a tire iron, would the world be a better place? Probably not by much. But, it's worth a try.

By the way, I actually got an offer from an "online friend" of mine in Germany of a little financial assistance. I actually turned it down, but I was touched to know that, barring some unpleasantness c. 1933-1945, there are some mightly decent folk in the Fatherland.

It turns out I do have an active Paypal account, so if anyone still wants to send me money for no reason (really, I'm fine now - I have a job that makes decent money), feel free to let me know.

The Jobless Insanity continues soon!

MySpace Archive: The Unemployment Saga, Part the Second

In an attempt to beef up this blog's appearance before I actually tell anyone about its existence, and also to relive some of my wacky antics over on MySpace, I am archiving all of my old posts over here at The Slog.

We continue with the pulse-pounding excitement that readers may have waited literally minutes to enjoy (assuming they somehow staggered over here from an incredibly misleading porn search).

I strongly recommend viewing this heart-throbbingly turgid epic from the beginning. Which can be found by scrolling down, or if you're hugely lazy, clicking here.

[Originally Posted on 10/16/2006]

Well, I suppose I just moved from "Quit" to "Fired"

Current mood: aggravated [Okay, I guess I'll leave this in - it's a pointless MySpace thing that puts an inappropriate symbol next to a term that it in no way relates to. I forgot to copy the symbol, but it was probably pretty lame]

I was told not to come in today by phone yesterday. So, instead of allowing me an official two weeks of paid work while I look for another job, I was fired.

Is that even legal?

Ack. I swear, I have never met a worse manager in my life. And my life has been a near endless succession of either cruel, incompetent, or completely bollocking crazy managers.

Hungry for more? Good news! I actually posted twice that day!

Well, the high point of my day is getting a mattress

Current mood: optimistic [Optimism apparently makes one's eyes orbit erratically in their sockets. While having jaundice]

Yeah, that's right. A mattress.

No more sleeping on the floor for the Jonmonster. After almost 2 months, I finally gathered the wherewithal and money to sleep on an honest to god, sort of bed.

Okay, it's still just a futon, but it's a NICE futon. And nothing can take that from me. Unless the dog uses it for a bathroom.

I'm going to try not to think about that.

I never fully succeeded in not thinking about that, by the way.

Update: I still think that manager was a fucking moron.

Tune in next week for more [insert appropriate body part, hyphen, adverb combo later] adventures of Wolter in Unemployment Land!

And, of course, "next week" could mean in five minutes or five months.

MySpace Archive: The Unemployment Saga, Part the First

In an attempt to beef up this blog's appearance before I actually tell anyone about its existence, and also to relive some of my wacky antics over on MySpace, I am archiving all of my old posts over here at The Slog.

We begin with the thrilling and spine-tingling adventures of Wolter as he leaves his incredibly crappy job to brave the waters of unemployment.

[Originally posted on 10/15/2006]

Well, I quit my job yesterday

I don't want to go into too much detail; suffice to say I am not apologizing for being pissed about losing a shift because I was five minutes late due to Chicago traffic.

So, the upshot of this is I have moved (all through conscious decisions of my own) from being fat, complacent, employed, and engaged, and living in a spacious one bedroom apartment a block south of Wrigley field to being nervous, jittery, unemployed and single in a studio in Lincoln Square that is roughly the size of the Elvis commemorative stamp (sorry Fat Elvis - I rooted for you all the way). That I have no idea how to pay for next month.

At least I've lost 30 pounds.

There. That was fun, wasn't it? By the way, that apartment was a colossal shithole--even by my standards. The best I can say about it is that at no point when I lived there did a swarm of locusts devour my wardrobe. That's saying something, I guess.

Tune in very, very soon to find out how this soul-searingly important part of my life ends up!

Repitition

We dig repitition* here at The Slog.

So, I'm moving all of my old posts from my MySpace blog over here, ever so gradually (as soon as I can figure out how to format the pictures properly).

In the meantime, enjoy this surprisingly non-hideous picture of Mark E. Smith of the Fall. It's a tenuous and circuituous reference related to the blog title.** It's semi-obscurantism like this that insured my stand-up career was doomed from the start.*****




*See explanation below***

**See first line above

***Well, above the footnote, but below the original reference.

****Well, not really.

*****Sorry about all the footnotes****

An entry just to test everything.

This is more of a test to see if I still remember how to post on this thing. One day, I may actually have a real blog entry, but it's highly unlikely.

This was actually written at about 10:45 on Thursday. It's an account of my glorious morning:

1. When I left the house today, it was 1 degree F, with a windchill of -16. By the way, I live right by Lake Michigan. Chicago is fücking windy, I don't care what people say.
2. The traffic was so bad that I was 25 minutes late for work. I left at a time that normally gets me there 15 minutes early.
3. On the way in the building, I dropped my keys. Upon picking them up, I TORE MY PANTS FROM ABOUT THE TOP OF MY ASS CRACK TO MY TAINT.
4. Well, thank goodness one of our maintenance people is about my size. Borrowing a pair of Cintas work trousers (with only a small grease stain), I walk down the the cleaners on the first floor - who (supposedly) do repairs.
5. Oops. Turns out that the only person there doesn't know how to sew.
6. Thank goodness there's a sewing kit in the convenience store downstairs. Thank goodness after 4 attempts, I finally passed my costuming class in college. Too bad I barely passed it on what I suspect amounted to social promotion...
7. It's fun to hand sew pants at a reception desk. Especially answering questions about "what happened to your pants?"
8. Did I mention that I'm going straight from work to meet with Ali and her parents for dinner, then to watch "Wicked?" So I'm wearing my nicest pants. I think I forgot to mention that.
9. Around the time I'm finished, I find out from someone in maintenance that the woman downstairs knows how to fücking do that, she's just lazy.
10. Anywhoo, my pants are fine. But so far, the tone of my day has been less than encouraging.
11. 5 minutes ago, I finally regained feeling in my toes. Did I mention it's cold today? It's cold today.

I suppose it's strange to save what is essentially an out of date complaint. But anyone who knows me knows how much I love to kvetch.