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A Ball On The Floor
2003-11-05, 9:28 a.m.

Another job bites the dust.

Well, job opportunity, anyway. I got the call yesterday afternoon (after pestering them for a day-- wasn't a good sign), stating that I was, basically, runner-up. And of course, should something not work out with the candidate, they'd give me a call. That would be where the comedy farce, Coen brothers storyline kicks in and I plot to hunt down and eliminate the competition peaceably but accidentally end up killing the individual. Wackiness insues.

Anyway... Now that we are, as previously stated, 'buying the bear', the time comes when we start to inform family and such of the situation. I do not look forward to this in the least. There will be crying, and I'm not a big fan of that. My dad especially-- he's become a teary-eyed softie (in a good way) since he's been on his happy pills. And mom, she's where I got my practical side so I'm willing to bet she'll be more together about it. And luckily neither of my parents - and certainly neither of H's - are outrageous bigots like both my grandfathers were, so there'll be no issues that I can imagine about who or what we might have Bought the Bear for. Not that I have a broad range of options that I'm going to set before us. I see this as my one opportunity, my one thing, and I'm going to get as close as I can to what I want. Considering, it's the least that I deserve. If I'm forced by nature to take this route, I will demand my recompense.

Must go soon to my source of revenue, such as it is. There's nothing more enjoyable, I must say, than returning to a job that you know you're once again stuck with. I'm just amazed that I've taken the bad news so well. Maybe my job-rejection skin's just getting thicker. Between that and listening to questions from Regis Philbin about Dave Letterman's new baby, like, "does he look like you?" and "did you cry when he was born?" Go ahead and rub it in, Reege. You'd think by this point I'd be in a ball on the floor.

Well, there's always tomorrow.

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