Today is like Beggars Night of my youth. The moisture in the air is the nice combo of snow and rain that sometimes plows into your face horizontally, from a straightline wind gust of 20mph. Fun. This is it. Sayonara 70's, that's degrees. I am semi-prepared, I unhooked the garden hose, and stored my patio furniture yesterday. But you should've seen my outfit today I chose to walk my dog in, I will describe it for you: my mother's old green raincoat with faded blue whale lining, a hat plus green hood from raincoat, my carhart overalls and redwings. On election day i was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. I googled moon boots yesterday.
On my walk I thought a lot about what to say to potential employers about being fired.
One thought was to be honest and say that it was difficult to work for an aggressive, ego-maniacal micro-manager.
Another thought which was suggested recently to me by a friend is to say "I wasn't a good fit" but I'm not sure that says everything the same way someone looking at me and surmising that I probably don't enjoy doing crunches sums up my muffintop lickitysplit.
So perhaps somewhere between the two approaches lies the answer. Should I inform them that while I was being canned my boss cried? WTF?
10,000,000 people are currently unemployed in the U.S., so great to be part of that club (thanks Hornet) although there is something sort of comforting when that unfathomable number is spoken by the new President Elect at his premiere press conference (which was kind of weird because it wasn't campaigny sounding, it was for reals). Well sort of.
Chuck Hagel for SOS. I'm not a Hill Hater nor a lover, but she ain't no SOS. She lied about being under sniper fire in Bosnia for chrissakes. Richardson? He is so fucking smarmy, but people like him and he brings home those damn hostages and bodies, he's as my friend John Bush said the "Charlie Wilson of Sec. of States." Cause he is such a shucker and a jiver and I guess he gets shit done.
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