Tuesday, January 31, 2006

In the work(s)

Well, that phone finally rang on Monday afternoon.

I got the job!

Now I just need to put in my semi-two weeks notice at work (I am going to attempt the dreaded Two Jobs At Once gig: Hello No-Doz!) and figure out just what in the Hell a Purchasing Agent/Clerk does for a living... and not get fired.

Starting February 13th, I'll be freaking out from 8:30 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Monday through Friday, much to Adrian's disapproval (his comment). I didn't post a reply to his "rant" (hee hee) because I didn't necessarily disagree with it. Partly put off by his bluster (tuff luv?), but partly put off by myself, by my fears and laziness when it comes to writing. Obviously, (mostly to myself) writing is what I want to do, what I enjoy, what I am "meant" for in life, yet I keep putting it off for another day. Why? Ah, well, that is probably another post of extreme length for another day...fuck! I did it again!

Anyway, wish me luck on my upcoming new job, please. I'm back to wearing a tie and having to remove my earrings; stupid conservative banking bastard standards.

Also, in the works, so to speak. I am slowly trying to become a "Guest Curator." After Complex Carrie invited me to an art show opening/benefit at The John Galt Gallery (thanks to Cybele for the link), I've become slightly obsessed with this idea which struck me that night. I want to gather some of my cool, creative chums for a show. Cybele sent me a bursting-at-the-seams email with some clues of how to do such a thing. I feel a tiny bit closer to figuring it out; so, hopefully someday you'll read a post asking you to Come to my show.

Yeah, that'd be cool, Beavis.

And, on an even slower note (my fault), I am thinking thinking thinking of trying a spoken word thing with M. On CD, not on a stage, thank you. If any past posts on My Cube or on my other blog catch/caught your ear or eye, let me know. I'm curious if anything here is good enough (with proper editing) for production.

Just an idea.

Off to Dreamland: sleep tight!

Sunday, January 29, 2006

Sitting by the phone that never rang

Life in Black and White
Originally uploaded by Mac(3).

I declined to meet up with Doodlehead and M. to play Halo2 today; instead, hanging out around the house waiting for the phone to ring.
It didn't.
The HR Director S.B. had left a voicemail on Friday for me to call his cell phone on Saturday. He wanted to talk about the mail room job I'd interview for twice. My call this morning went straight to voicemail, so the game of tag continues.
I distracted myself from the nail-biting wait by updating my Flickr account (the above photo being the last of them. All caught up, YAY!) Hope you like them.

Okay, it's after midnight, so I'm gonna finish this beer and go to bed. Work tomorrow.


Wednesday, January 25, 2006

For C.C.: Check your Head!

Thanks to Stereogum, I found a link to a Beastie Boys live video clip from their upcoming DVD release Awesome; I Fuckin' Shot That. (opens in Windows Media)

Immediately, my mind swerved to the past. High school parties, college parties, and home alone dancing around the room and cold lampin'.

C.C. especially sprang to mind. Both at university and after moving here to Chicago, I was lucky enough (?) to witness and be the target for many an in-you-face (horror?) out-LOUD kareoke-style sing-alongs to these guys. Usually in the comfort of our various apartments (but sometimes right out there in public) while sipping beers on various hand-me-down couches. The Mike D. to her MCA was her roommate Redhead K (who has long been M.I.A.). Then I'd drive us all to the 1056 Club, Borderline, The Empty Bottle, The Lava Lounge, or what ever bar happened upon our agenda for the evening in The Big Red Tomato ("Damn, Mac you drive like my grandma!").

They favored the later stuff, but I am still going to call the first one my favorite: Eat Me!

So, with no further ado, this one's for you C.C. After you pop that baby out, we'll find and down some Brass Monkeys in the kitchen. For old times sake, no?

Saturday, January 21, 2006


I am off to my coworker, Greek Tragedy's, apartment for a party.

Well, after I finish this wee-Vodka and cigarette.

C.P. and Sully are going to be attending; so I have a sneaky suspicion I may end up here (for my fourth time) since it's only like a block away.

"Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink."

Okay, gotta go: a cold beer awaits me.

"Fetch...The Comfy Chair!"

Interviews are my Spanish Inquisition as they are simultaneously ridiculous and terrifying. Mostly terrifying.

I am, of course, referring to the latest interview I've taken part in this past Thursday. L.S. came through and scored me an interview at her client's bank. She called me on Tuesday and said come in Thursday; so, that is what occurred. I showed up ten minutes early, finished a smoke in the parking lot, and entered. L.S.'s office number was 301 which I couldn't decide to take as a good sign or a bad sign since that's the same office number as Dr. M's at The Ghetto Clinic. L.S. laughed at the sight of me in a tie (as she said I would), but offered a quick pep-talk as we strolled the hall to D.B.'s office. She introduced me to the Human Resource Director, then padded off whispering, "Good luck, Mac" with a smile.

The HR Director C. gave me the usual application to fill out and went through it explaining some of the odd parts in an accent I couldn't place. I filled the forms out sitting at a tiny desk and chair pairing with fabric patterns that looked like they'd been stolen from a motel room. I handed them in and sat back down, looking around the large room with cubicles huddled in the middle. All remained pretty quiet and motionless except for the low clacking of keyboards and a prairie dog or two under the bright fluorescent lighting.

After a few minutes, HR Director C. came over with a key and told me D.B. is in a meeting, so it'll be a while, did I need to use the washroom. "No, thank you," I said, and realized I probably should/could go the minute her office door shut, but took out a New Yorker instead.

I'd just flipped past the opening advertisements and started looking at the contributing authors list, when another woman approached me; A.H. turned out to be D.B.'s co-manager of a long list of departments and had just been handed my Application and Resumes a few minutes ago. Since D.B. would be in and out of meetings, she was to interview me.

A.H. seemed pretty cool as we talked. She kept glancing at my Resume throughout the interview since she just got it. She asked me some of the typical questions: "What do you like/hate about your current job?" "How would you improve an aspect of your current job?" We had a good, comfortable vibe going, I thought. I gave flattering, but not embellished statements about myself blah blah blah.

And then: "I'm not sure about the earrings; I mean there's mostly women working here, but I can't remember any men having earrings."

WTF!?! How is it not yet an accepted accessory for men. I mean, it's fucking 2006, and men have worn earrings for centuries all around the globe. Nowadays I'd say this mentality is similar to saying women must wear dress, not pants because, as Brother Jed (the insane, ultra-conservative "preacher that used to soapbox on my college green) said, "All women who wear jeans or pants are Leeeeeessssssbiannnnns, and will burn in Heeeelllllllll!" My earrings are small; and, for God's Sake, I'll be working in the basement.

At one point, D.B. popped in and went over in machine-gun rapid words basically what A.H. and I had already spoken about He looked like a taller, thinner, better-looking version of this guy. Blunt-speaking, and fast...did I mention machine-gun rapid fire speech? He and A.H. let me know a little of the requirements of the job and also the fact that the last couple of guys to hold the position were"idiots." And then he shot out of the room for meeting with someone from the Federal Reserve. A.H. and I shook hands and concluded the meeting.

I returned to L.S.'s office for a smoke and some water. We and her officemate, B. sat for a while talking about the interview and various opinions of their fellow coworkers until A.H. and D.B. popped in the door. They were heading to lunch, but told L.S. they would return and talk about me afterwards. Yikes!

I guess the talk went okay. After closing work on Friday, I listened to a voicemail from another HR Department person wanting to set up a meeting with the HR Director this coming Monday.

That's a positive thing, right?

Wednesday, January 18, 2006

Speaking of Fear

of a different, less entertaining sort than previously mentioned, I have a job interview tomorrow morning. Yikes.

As I briefly mentioned earlier (because I wasn't sure it would be confirmed so quickly) my as-of-this-past-Saturday ex-coworker L.S. called me about a job opening in her full-time job. Turned out she recommended me and her "scatter-brained, blunt-speaking" boss said bring him in, and a date and time crystallized.

That is why I am nervously sitting here typing away instead of drinking and laughing at The Empty Bottle watching my friends band Zelienople play tonight *sigh.* Which what you should be doing right now instead of reading this whiney drivel!

Anyway, I am nervous. It's been nearly four years since I last got off my ass and out of my depression enough to interview, except for that Photography gig that didn't pan out. It's not for a exciting job (mail room), but it's got Health Benefits, regular hours, and the commute is about fifteen minutes from my apartment. The perks alone may outweigh any shitty pay or mind numbing work involved, right? Hell, L.S. says she smokes at her desk in her office; so, no outdoor smoke breaks in the winter!

Okay, I must check over my Resume and References and such.

Wish me luck.

I have seen Fear

Twice, as a matter of fact.
Once at The Metro, and once at The Subterranean.
Great shows.

As you probably have figured out from my previous posts (like this one), I am a big fan of the 80's punk band, FEAR, especially 'The Record." My love for this satirical, loud-mouth, beer-swilling band began sometime during my Sophomore (?) year at college, when my in-a-band Professor Greg showed us the movie The Decline of Western Civilization: Part 1, The Punk Years ($600 bucks, WTF?!?) as an example of Nihilism in my Philosophy Ethics 101 class. It grabbed me by the collar and never let go.

I haven't, however, ever had the chance to see their performance on the first Saturday Night Live show, hosted by George Carlin.... Until NOW!

I stumbled onto this Mookie guy's blog, and he had a link to a recording of it (opens in Windows Media Player) in this post. So thankful to Mookie.

Enjoy, and please pass the Beef Bologna!

Monday, January 16, 2006

Zelienople Show on Hump Day

Zelienople Show (My fake flyer)
Originally uploaded by Mac(3).

For those of you looking for something (or someone) to do on Hump Day, might I suggest a show at The Empty Bottle? You can preview some of their songs on their MySpace account.

My friends are taking the stage Wednesday, January 18th. I hope to attend (I'm on the guest list, yo!) and suck down "cheap beer" and gawk Sweet Betties.

If I go, I'll be the one taking pictures, then looking down at the camera going, "what the hell is that?" My photo skills are in need of sharpening.

Now, you may be wondering, "what's up with the 'if' in that sentence. That is because I just received a phone call from an (as of this past Saturday) ex-coworker, L.S. (previous cameos here and here), who may have scored me a Thursday morning interview where she works full-time.

Now, I can work hung-over, but dread the idea of pitting myself against an interviewer with blood-shot eyes and skin reeking of booze while a thousand drums pound in my head.

Okay, wish me luck and go see these guys with or without me.

Saturday, January 14, 2006

I'm a party animal, not.

After tipping a few out for my fired hommie, S.R., last night, I went directly to bed. Do not pass "Go."

This morning I woke without hangover, but a tension headache or some shit. Two cups of coffee, checked the email, started reading the next to last New Yorker with Lilly curled up by my side on the too small couch, and promptly fell asleep for the entire afternoon.

Ah, yes, another wasted day off.

So, tonight is Molli C.'s B-day party somewhere down on Lincoln Ave @ Diversey. I am no where near motivated to go. Still the slight throbbing in back of head, no food in tummy, and that old Zombie-numb, fuzzy wet blanket wrapped around my brain feeling. Can't seem to wake up.

But the show must go on!

A quick shower and change of clothes, and I'm to pick up M. and B.H-T. and tip brew in Honor of Molli C.'s Day of Birth. After the party, I am told via the E-vite, the crowd is to migrate to some bar called The Goodbar.

We'll have to see if I am one of the pack.

Friday, January 13, 2006

A Black Friday the 13th

"It's Friday the 13th," I thought as I wheezed groaned moaned staggered out of bed this morning; and I brightened up.

See, usually Friday the 13ths are good and fun days for me. I don't know why. Maybe my screwed up mind reverses things in my little universe. My Galactic River runs against the Mainstream? Past history has taught me that this Bad Luck Day usually turns out to be a good time: great keg parties, meet a pretty girl, cool customers all day, score some good mushrooms, laugh a lot with close friends, whatever/what-have-you. You get the drift.

Work started out okay. I actually not only made it to work on time, but ten minutes early. One of my favorite coworkers, S.R. was my scheduled countermate. And The Counselor M.E. was closing with me tonight with two cool closing managers, The Croatian Gyration Sensation and Amazing Grace. That combined with the usual loopy, drunken, North Shore odd-balls that shop on Friday nights looked to make for an interesting if not fun night.

And then S.R. got fired for strange and bullshit reasons at 5:00 p.m. Didn't act happy to be there, was to be demoted anyway, some "ultimatum" he supposedly gave the manager concerning Inventory Weekend coming up, and God-knows what else.

Shady, my friend, and stupid reasons to get rid of one of the better workers on your horribly understaffed workforce.

Total Bullshit: Fuck those Screwheads!

So tonight: I pour a few out for my main hommie. Vodka on the rocks and a moment in silence for a great guy.

For you, S.R.

Good luck.

Sunday, January 08, 2006

First Pics of 2006

@ The Ho
Originally uploaded by Mac(3).

On New Years Eve, I went with Trying Harder, C.C., and Doodlehead to a party in Logan Square. A lovely evening it was, hosted by the ever charming sisters M.U. and C.U. in their bright red apartment.

Everyone chatted.

I guzzled Jameson and Diet Coke the evening through, all the while staring yearningly at two beautiful Eastern European women; I wished my bestest Wingman were by my side. Of course, the Euro-hotties turned out to be 17 (WTF?!?!? Must all the ladies I lust after be unattainable?)

Then the ball dropped and Midnight sounded. I didn't get a glass of champagne in time, so I drowned 2005 and toasted the New Year in with Jameson Whiskey. Good to ring in 2006 with friends: Mike, M.B., C.T., N.J., R.S. and others.

And the soon-to-be-mamisita got tired, so the four of us headed out into the night for home. I slurred and babbled some crap about wanting to baby-sit the awaited child, and C.C. politely said that'd be nice (though after sobering up, I realized what a dangerous and ridiculous thing that would be. How can one take care of an innocent child when one cannot take care of oneself?)

We dropped the pair off at home, and then I had Doodlehead drop me of at The Ho. A crowd still sat drinking in the New Year Cheer (um, like eight people). I drank a pint, did a shot, and talked to Larry about kids, bartending, and this'n'that. A guy comes in, stands next to my barstool and drinks a Bud. We chat about Retail Hell (he works for some local Tea Chicago Chain, starts with an "A". I'm thinking job networking as he's the Assistant Manager for two of the stores, but Bob's thinking of networking in a different way:

"I live right across the street," he tells me 3 times until I get his drift. "Come ooon, why not?"

"Sorry, dude, I like breasts." I say and he gives up and goes home...right across the street.

I am hoping this isn't some sort of foreshadowing for this year: no Champagne, underage women, and the first time I get hit-on in centuries, it's a guy.

Larry yells "Last Call" and "Happy New Year," so I tip him and stumble out the door and home.

Not right across the street.

Some pictures: Here.

Thursday, January 05, 2006

Booze-ic Recommendations:

I find the following bands enhance the drinking experience...nay...a perfect booze fest...to the highest level: anythingby these guys!or, if your're feeling for the more aggressive blues/rock/punk,these guys (the Pride of Athens, Ohio).

However, some nights when you're bummed out and mellow,any of these would be an excellent choice (they have self-admittedly been "bummin' people out since the turn of the century".

That is all.
My beer is getting warm.

Is it a bad sign

that I always feel the urge to (and do) get drunk the day before I am to meet with my Primary, S., at The Ghetto Clinic?

Something snapped at work today. The back of my knee feels like someone is grinding their thumb into it, or it got beaten 333 times with a sharp, yet blunt, object.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

A Most Belated Happy New Year

Better late than never, right?

I had a good (drunken) New Year's Eve at M.U./C.U.'s apartment party, then ended the evening/morning closing The Ho. I'll try and post a picture or two and a post about it later this week.

I am up early since I slept pretty much through the last two days, but now must get ready for work (ugh!).

Tonight, I'm meeting up at Motodd's for gaming and, apparently, a farewell to P.Kill who's going to Cali.