MattOnFire

“… Oh, and don’t wear a suit or anything like that. We’re pretty casual, and I want you to be comfortable,” she said. “Thanks for taking the time out of your morning to give this phone interview. We’ll see you in here next Friday.”

“Looking forward to it,” I said. “See you then.”

It was 8am. I had spent the previous 12-16 hours running the gamut of emotions about some confusing and frightening medical news we had received. I was not prepared for an early-morning phone interview, but the unexpected call came. And I answered.

I was asked all sorts of pre-interview-esque questions about my most positive qualities, my work ethic, my relationships with former employers, an achievement which I’m most proud of, how I handle stress, etc. I was already under a lot of stress, having not slept well, so I think faking alertness and interest during this phone interview was a pretty good indication of how I handle stress.

I was not ready for this phone call.

But I somehow got through it. And I somehow gave all the right answers. After being asked to visit the office for an in-person interview, I immediately starting daydreaming about what it would be like to work in an office again. 9-6. Packing a lunch. Talking to people. Having clear goals for the day. Meetings. Paperclips. Staplers. Excel spreadsheets. And the benefits! Sweet Baby Jesus, the benefits! With the wife losing her county teaching job in T-minus 3 weeks, we’re about to say goodbye to our health insurance. And we really need medical coverage right now. Not only do I want to get this job, but I need to get this job.

I shaved my gangly beard. I dusted off my interview shoes. The wife ironed a button down shirt for me. My pants weren’t wrinkled, so they got no special treatment. “Casual,” they said. No tie. Rolled up sleeves. I slapped a little gunk in my hair and posed it in the modern I don’t give a damn about my hair style. Oh, and sunglasses. Gotta have the sunglasses. Even though no one would see me while wearing the sunglasses. But still, sunglasses. I looked good. I felt good.

“Hi, Matt! So glad you could make it,” the HR lady said. She walked me through the building. I noticed that everyone seemed happy. In an office. At work. Smiling. Laughing. Wearing jeans. “Let me introduce you to [person]. She’s the [title].”

“Hi, Matt!” potential future boss said. “I’m [person] and I’m the [title]. Now tell me a little about yourself.”

So I did. We chatted for a while. It was pretty casual. Friendly. There was serious job speak with a good mix of casual banter. I was charming and made her laugh with my SFW jokes about the weather and such.

“Let me introduce you to [person],” she said. “He’s the [title] of the entire [something and something] departments.”

“Hi, Matt!” [title] of the entire [something and something] said. “Let me tell you about the job and what you’d be doing.”

So he did. He asked me questions. I asked him questions. Again with the friendly chatter and the weather-related jokes. (Hot enough for ya?) He walked me out of the office and to the front door. I do better with charming the ladies than I do the men, but I think he’d want to have a beer with me. Or at least have me work for him.

“We’ll give you a call Monday or Tuesday,” he said.

Sweet. I figured out later that this was a good thing because the person who interviewed before me didn’t meet with the [title] of the entire [something and something] because she was walked out to the front door by the first lady. So I got one step ahead of her in the process, anyway.

I did the whole follow-up thank you email. I’ve waited patiently all weekend. Now it’s Monday. The job posting has been removed from internet job boards. I guess they found somebody. I hope that somebody is me. I really want to work for this company. I’d make an excellent [title]. And I’m pretty passionate about what they make, sell, market.

Keeping my fingers crossed. I’m waiting for the call. RING, DAMMIT. RING!

I’ve been a blogger since before blogging was cool. Then I was a blogger when it was cool. Then I was a blogger when it wasn’t cool again. I’m a MeBlogger. I write about me. My life. My pets. My employment. My illnesses. My likes. My dislikes. My Wife. My affinity for really good sandwiches.

Over the years, there have been many versions of my blog. I started out posting inappropriate pictures of me and my friends. From there, I began writing little descriptions of the pictures. Then I morphed into recounting silly experiences about going to the mall or how I got a really bad sunburn. Each version of the blog would eventually die because I got bored or just didn’t have the time nor the inclination to update. I would forget. Things weren’t that exciting. My ADD kicks into overdrive once every 6-8 months.

One year ago, about this time, I felt the urge to get back on the blogwagon. I started a tumblr page to coincide with my new-ish twitter account. I found some funny people to follow from all over the country – not just in Richmond – and reading their posts and admiring their photos allowed me to explore my slightly-creative online persona.

Then we all know what happened. I lost my job. Yes, it was the very job that stifled me so much that I felt the need to reach out, creatively, online. But it was gone and so was the paycheck. The adrenaline of telling my boss to shove it was quickly replaced by weeks – WEEKS – of mental anguish and frustration. (Honestly, I still have nightmares about the whole thing. No joke.) On the first day of my unemployment, April 16th, 2009, I wrote a blog entry about beginning my search for a new job:

Hmmm… doesn’t seem to be much out there.  Is the economy in a recession?  When did that happen?

The blog now had a topic – unemployment and my search for a job. As the entries flowed from my fingertips at an almost-daily pace, I realized that tumblr wasn’t the proper forum for such a depressing topic. I moved the written part of my blog over to WordPress. It make me feel a little more legit. I bit the bullet last fall when I slapped down the credit card and bought the domain and the hosting. Now I’m a big boy with a real blog that actually costs money to run.

I’ve stuck with it for a year, which is pretty good for someone like me, a guy who goes through hobbies like Kirstie Alley goes through diets. Remember my bass guitar? Yeah, it’s upstairs in its case. Haven’t opened it since we moved. Money well spent.

So happy birthday, MattOnFire blog. Let’s hope you can stick around for another year of pointless rambles that don’t reaOH HEY I THINK I’M GOING TO TAKE UP PAINTING WHERE CAN GET A CANVAS STRETCHED LOOK AT MY WATERCOLORS.

Monday, 7pm -

Wife: I have to meet with the principal at 8am tomorrow morning.

Me: About what?

Wife: I don’t know. She just said, “See me at 8.”

Me: I’m sure it’s nothing.

Wife: She’ll probably tell me that I’m losing my job.

Me: No… not yet. Wouldn’t they wait until the summer?

Wife: Yeah, you’re right. Why would she tell me at 8am on a Tuesday in March that I won’t have a job next year?

Me: I know. It’s probably something stupid. You’ll be fine.

Wife: …

Me: Well, whatever happens, you know we’ll get through it.

8:10am Tuesday – Phone conversation -

Me: Hello?

Wife: Yeah, I don’t have a job next year. [cries]

Some backstory – The school district is in all sorts of financial trouble – even though it’s one of the fastest growing school districts in the state. People move to the county just to have the option of sending their children to the schools. A few months back, they announced that they were in a budget crises (having already spent their stimulus money on God-knows-what and who-knows-what-they-do-with-their-lottery-money) and needed to eliminate teachers and increase class size, along with getting rid of certain programs and other staff. Something like 45 million in cuts. Heaven forbid the county raise taxes, because no one wants to PAY for their children to have a decent public education. But let’s not get into that.

So anyway, my wife (and I’m not just saying this because she is my wife), is the most dedicated teacher a child could have. You know the old saying, “first one there in the morning and the last one to leave at night”? That’s her. Truly. For a school that dismisses at 2:50, you’d think she’d be home by 4. Or 5. No. Try 7:00 on most nights, planning the next day’s lesson or cutting little frogs out of construction paper.

She’s a good teacher. No – she’s a great teacher. Don’t take my word for it – take into account the emails she receives from parents who say that their child is lucky to have her. Or the parent who’s child hated school until she was transferred into my wife’s class. Tell me that she isn’t devoted to teaching when you look at our bank records and see the amount of her own money she’s spent in the past year buying books, crayons, glue and other supplies. And even after hearing this news, she is still taking nightly trips to the dollar store or to Michael’s to buy little crafty things for her kids’ activities.

Forget about her being a new teacher with a low salary. That doesn’t count for anything because these cuts are seniority-based. Which I sort-of understand, I guess. But at the same time, wouldn’t it seem more beneficial – at least for the children’s sake – to asses teachers individually? I mean – good teachers should be rewarded, right? Shouldn’t these cuts be performance-based? Is that not in the best interest of the students?

When it comes down to it, my wife is just one statistic out of the HUNDREDS of county faculty and staff who are being let go due to budget cuts. And we’ve already been through a trying unemployment spell with me last year. Oh, and we just bought a house. Remember? But we’re not the ones who are going to suffer the most – it’s the students. They’re losing good, caring, passionate teachers. They’re losing a smaller class size. They’re losing after school programs. They’re losing the best damn kindergarten teacher Chesterfield County was ever lucky enough to have.

Me: No, Barista. The point of olympic curling is to…

TLW: You gotta sweep really, really fast like this [demonstrates feverish sweeping]

Barista: It sounds kinda dumb.

As we try to explain the complexities of curling to a confused Barista, FELLOW walks over and puts his arms around us. Mind you, we’ve all been drinking.

Fellow: GUYS! It’s like the Richmond blogger elite over here!

Us, collectively: Aww, thanks. No, YOU’RE the blogger elite!

Fellow: But seriously, MattOnFire is the blog of our times!

Me: Aw, go on!

Fellow: Really, I read your blog and I absolutely feel SOOOO happy that I have a job.

TLW: [Spit take]

Barista: [Doubled over, laughing]

Me: Huh?

Fellow: No, seriously. I love it. I mean, you’re blog makes me glad that I’m working and you’re not. Really. It sucks to not have a job and I’m glad I’m not you.

Barista: You’re making it worse!

Me: But I kinda do have a…

Fellow: No, really! It’s really shitty being you. Your blog makes me feel bad for you, but in a way that makes me happy I’m not you.

Me: But I AM sort of working…

TLW: This is too much!

Fellow: No, no. I get it. You do work, but your life is like a box of poop and your blog is the BLOG OF OUR TIMES!

Me: Yeah, but no. I have a pretty good life. I …

Fellow: Yeah, yeah. You bought a house. How is that possible? What an asshole, right? Here’s this unemployed guy who is so frustrated with money and life and the job situation – then he goes out and buys a house! I mean!

Barista: Oh. My.

Fellow: I’m obviously doing something wrong because I have a job and I work really hard. Yet I don’t have a house. You see my point, though? You have THE BLOG OF OUR TIMES because 2009 was a shitty year for the economy and stuff, and here’s your blog about losing your job and all the frustrations that come along with it. The next thing you know, you’re buying a house! And you don’t even have a job!

Me: Well, I do sort of have a job. I write for…

Fellow: Yeah, yeah. I know.

Me: It’s not like I stare at the walls all day long and…

Fellow: OF OUR TIMES. THE BLOG.

TLW: Are you trying to pay him a compliment?

Fellow: Yes! Of course! I love MattOnFire! He makes me feel shitty, and that’s what good writing should do. It’s like, “Congrats on the house… asshole.” You’re happy for him, but you’re glad you’re not him. See?

Me: …Thanks?

Fellow: Seriously. I love the blog. Glad I’m not you.

FELLOW saunters off to the bar for his next Bud Light. I overhear him tell the bartender that he’s really glad that bartenders serve drinks because he is thirsty, but he’s happy he’s not a bartender because it must suck serving alcohol to people.

Barista: Really, though. Congrats on the house, jerk.

TLW: Yeah. I’m really happy for you. I don’t have a house, but I’m glad you do. Must suck being “unemployed”, huh?

Me: Anyway, the rocks are made of granite and the sweeping causes friction on the ice…

Editor’s note: FELLOW is a respected Richmond blogger and friend, who was truly trying to pay me a compliment… just in a drunkenly awkward way.

The job thing. I’m workin’ on it. Now that I am a homeowner, it is imperative that I find steady, lucrative work to supplement the income I’m receiving from my little startup bizzy. While I’ve got my finger in the writing and social media pie, it sure won’t be enough to pay the mortgage, internet bill, trash bill, homeowner’s association fees, utilities and credit card bills. Not to mention support my beer hockey addiction.

This blog started out as a detailed journey through my scared-shitless mind as I documented the day-to-day life of a newly-unemployed sap. You’ve witnessed my turmoil as I weighed the options of moving far, far away. You’ve read my stories about how Craigslist is a big, steaming pile of scams. You accompanied me to malljob and watched me try my hand at summertime retail. You’ve been there as I went on job interviews with crazy people and offered your support. Some of you felt my pain and cried right along with me. Just kidding. I don’t cry. I’m made of stone. But thanks for being there.

Lately, the blog has taken a turn to encompass the good things happening in my life. The house. The wife. My little business. The stupid cat. But fear not, those who enjoy wallowing in someone else’s sorrows! The job search has been retooled and refocused to encompass industries in which I have no formal training nor experience. Mattress salesman? I’m applying. Barista? I’m applying. Tax accountant? I’m applying, but I’m really bad at math. Director of old people fitness and exercise at an old people home? Totally applied for it.

I haven’t had a call back since before Christmas. I have, however, received a few new leads and potential clients for my little business. Word of mouth, I guess. Friends of friends or the uncle of the lady who went to college with my wife or my cousin’s veterinarian needs a website or a blog or a press release written. I’m. On. It.

I also want to mention, without tooting my own horn, (but, really – TOOT TOOT!) that this blog was nominated in RVANews‘ Internet Awards in not one, but TWO categories: Best New Blog and Best Overall Blog. My @mattjh2 Twitter account was also nominated for Funniest Twitter. AND, a community website for which I blog, Richmond Inside Out, is also nominated in the Best Kept Secret category. Pretty frackin’ cool, fellas!

So, incase you didn’t know, I’m kind of a big deal. I would tell you to go vote for me, but that’s just plain wrong. *COUGHshortyawardsCOUGH* Also, voting closed last week and I was too busy moving to schlep for your vote. Besides, you probably voted for other blogs and internetters such as CafeDarkness or The Checkout Girl or Tobacco Ave, all of whom are friends and much more deserving of your accolades.

Now if you would excuse me, I must change my address on my resumé and start handing out copies to the Midlothian old people homes.

Starting my little company is working to my advantage so far. I’m getting work done on MY time at MY pace. I wear pajama pants while doing it. Trouble is, I can’t count on a paycheck every two weeks.

I haven’t talked about my job search for some time now, mostly because I’ve been spending most of my energy trying to CREATE work instead of tying to FIND work. And as much as I truly enjoy working at my own pace, I do miss the social interaction of a workplace.

I was reflecting on my 8 years at the TV station the other day. I don’t miss directing. Honestly, I probably couldn’t even remember what buttons did what and how to make a double box over the shoulder roll cue stinger VO zoom super pan GODDAMMIT CAMERA 2! I SAID TILT UP!

Okay, maybe I would remember. But the point is that I don’t miss the work. I miss the time in between work. I miss hangin’ in the newsroom and talkin’ smack with the producers and editors. I miss talking about obscure hockey statistics and factoids (did you know Rod Langway was born in Taiwan?) with the photogs and secretly taking a generous portion of the anchor’s coffee creamer when he wasn’t looking. I miss doing pull-ups and ab-wheels with the meteorologist. I miss having Mr. Sub across the street. Ham & Cheese. Toasted. All the way.

I don’t miss 3am alarm clocks. I don’t miss WORKING. I miss BEING at work. But only at the TV station. Being at the other job was sometimes tortuous. But still – the socializing. That’s what I miss.

Oh, and the paycheck. I miss that.

Working from home has it’s benefits, and my wish is that I can keep this up for a very, very long time and make it profitable. But on my down time, I’d like to come to your place of employment and hang out with you. We can shoot spitballs at the smelly girl in accounting and hide behind your cubicle wall when she turns to look. We can put tuna in the microwave for a few minutes so it stinks up the entire office, then burn some popcorn. We can borrow each other’s staplers and forget to give them back. We can bitch about the boss and say distasteful things about the fat lady who always eats 4 packs of Cheeseburger Macaroni Lean Cuisine for lunch.

Sometimes, while working in my home office, I take a break and try to sneak up on the dog or cat while they are sleeping.

Hey! What’cha doin? Wanna hang out?

No. Sleeping. Go away.

Wanna play fetch or something?

No. Shouldn’t you be working?

Did you know Herb Cain led the NHL in scoring during the 1943-44 season?

Impressive. Now go write an article or something.

2009 has been a tough year for me.

I began the year still very much a newlywed with big my full intention to continue working at my draining, but well-paying, job at a large media corporation. At the beginning of the year, my schedule was shifted to a late-afternoon to late-night shift. I quietly rebelled against the change, partly because I had taken job under the pretense that I would be working a normal person 9-6 shift, after leaving my 9-year position at a local television station where I worked the early morning shift. The prospect of living a normal life with a normal sleeping pattern enticed me, and I grabbed at the chance to de-zombify my life and make a little more money in the process. When my evening shift began in January, the company was going though a rough time financially – you know, the damn economy and all that. People were laid off, schedules were shifted, furloughs implemented. Scary times for all employees, knowing that their jobs could be eliminated at any point with little or no warning. I sucked it up and took the schedule change, thankful to at least have my job for the time being. THE TIME BEING.

I worked in a pod. It’s a nice way of saying “a cubicle but with shorter walls that are arranged in octagons so 4 people could occupy one space”. Drab. Stifling. Cold. Basement. It was hard to work as a creative designer in this type of environment, and I think my work (and probably my attitude) began to suffer as a result of it coupled with the fact that I am more of a morning person, doing my best work in the earlier part of the day.

Long story short, I was told I would be moving to the overnight shift. OVER. NIGHT. This was a force-out, because my boss and I really weren’t the best of friends. I didn’t suck up or chit-chat with him in his office for hours about his weekend plans like some folks in the office. I just came in, sat down and got to work. He wasn’t a fan of me or my work, and I was beginning not to care. I was unhappy. In April, it was all over after being blindsided when returning from my dinner break. Peace out, Media Corporation!

Shit. Now what do I do?

It was tough. Emotionally and financially. Ask my wife. She knows. If you’ve been reading this blog since the beginning, you’ve seen first hand the range of emotions that I poured into these ramblings. It was good therapy, I guess. And I think it allowed me to organize my thoughts. In a way, I encouraged myself to pursue my passion.

April was not the best time to be looking for a J-O-B in U-S-A. I sent resumes all over the country, with only a few bites here and there. I made a great connection with a company here in Richmond, and while they couldn’t offer me a full-time position, they did offer me an opportunity to do some freelance article writing. Right up my alley! I wanted out of the news biz and never wanted to open Photoshop again. Writing is more my speed, and I’ll take the freelance paycheck, thank you.

That freelance gig, along with my blog audience and showing my face at local networking events eventually landed me more freelance writing opportunities. By the end of the summer, I was doing okay financially. And – the best news of all – my wife got a teaching job. We were staying in Richmond! We no longer had to worry about one of us breaking a leg and not having health insurance or making rent or being able to eat real food. Phew.

Here we are, mid/late November. Last week, I filed the paperwork to become a business. I am a business owner. I own my own business. That’s right. Me. That goofy fat guy who likes to watch hockey. Basically, I’m taking everything I’ve ever learned, professionally, and pouring into whatever I can do to help other businesses with their websites, online presence and public persona. I’m legit! And I’m super excited about it, too. I think I’m gonna rock it! No – I KNOW I’m gonna rock it! Check me out: FlashBurst Media

Enough of this renting stuff, too. I’ve had the better part of this year to think about and prioritize the important things in my life. It’s time to grow up and get into our own home. We’ve been looking at houses for a few weeks now. With the help of our agent, we’ve found some really good ones in our price range. We’ve gotten our pre-approval for a mortgage loan. We’re exited. We’re nervous. We can do this. I think we’ll be making an offer on a house this week. Yikes!

I’m happy now. I’m doing what I love and we’re moving towards a goal. I can honestly say that before the big personal events of 2009, I was just living day to day. Working to get by. Just another rat in the race. Now I’m working towards a home, a family and all the other things that come with a growed-up life. We’ll have dinner parties in a real dining room. We’ll make a casserole and wear sensible shoes. We’ll talk about our kids’ ear infections and fix the toilet when it clogs. We’ll mow the lawn and learn about escrow.

Things are good and getting better. Can’t wait for 2010.

“So, Matt, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a writer.”

“A writer, eh? That’s… cool. Like books and stuff?”

“No. Blogs, mostly. Wokin’ on a book, though. When I have time.”

[crickets]

“Right on. You’re a blogger,” [snicker] “How’s that working out for ya?”

“Okay, I guess. I also write articles and stuff. Press releases, that sort of thing. What do you do?”

“I’m in the production and allocation field of promotional construction and I build technology with my bare hands and I yell at people and I go to work in the morning and come home at night like a normal person and work hard and wear steel-toed boots and am drastically underpaid and under appreciated but earn a semi-decent living and usually have to wear a tie unless it’s Casual Friday and brown nose the bosses and sometimes my wife packs me a lunch with double turkey meat and a little note that says she loves me and to pick up some milk on my way home and I have my own parking space that I have to pay $40 a month to keep even though the parking deck is owned by the company I work for and sometimes I get to take home pads of paper and once I stole some printer ink and in the winter time everyone wears a black coat because black coats look the best in a corporate environment and I almost got laid off last year because, you know, the damn economy, and I make sure the whole operation is running smoothly and I help to ensure quality control and oversee the direction of valuable workforce allocation memos and provide comprehensive analysis to the regional vice president of marketing and task-force management while providing top-notch customer service and maintain synergy with the departmental liaisons so I can provide my family with a roof over their heads and food on the table and maybe a Merry Christmas.”

[crickets]

“I work in my skivvies and drink hot cocoa all day long. I haven’t shaved in a week.”

“DUDE! I SOO WISH I COULD DO THAT! YOU’RE MY HERO!”

And that, dear readers, is why I am becoming more confident when people ask me what I do for a living. Because everyone wishes they could work sans-pants. Truth.

Dear Matt -

I am deeply saddened to hear of your recent computer issues. Hard drive failures can come at any time and with little or no warning. As I am sure you are well aware of the risks of not having your files backed up properly, there is little I can do in the way of offering you comforting words of advice or show you any sort of sympathy whatsoever.

Since you’re Mister Que-Sera,-Sera, I think you should continue to flip fate the bird and throw caution to the wind as you amass years of precious memories – photos, videos, etc. – and nestle them snugly inside the hard drive of your computer. No need to put them on an external drive or burn them to a disk. I’m sure they’ll be just fine and dandy. Furthermore, I advise you to collect these memories with the INTENT of doing something nice with them – like make a wedding montage or create a home video with fancy transitions and what-not – and then put off the task until you ‘have time’. Because I know how busy you are, being unemployed and all. It’s tough.

Keep backing up those freelance articles, though. Because you’ll never use them again – and most of them are already stored online. Good thing you had your documents folder backed up there, buddy. I’m thrilled to learn that your external hard drive’s .pdf manual is safely backed up on your external hard drive. You, sir, dodged a bullet with that one.

Do you know what’s a real pain in the ass? The whole “Set It and Forget It” thing. You have Apple’s innovative Time Machine and a Time Capsule. Software and hardware that seamlessly integrate to provide comprehensive back ups of all your data. But it’s waaayyyy too tough to open your system preferences ONCE and click the button to turn on Time Machine ONCE so it backs up your files EVERY HOUR without you having to do a damn thing EVER AGAIN. I mean, I know how important it is to make sure you watch that Auto-Tune the News video. Why would you set up your built-in, one-click back-up software when you watch the president sing like a robot?!?

Jackass.

Sincerely,

A smarter and better looking version of you

According to my calculations, (yes, I know how to do calculations thanks to my iPhone’s calculator function) September 2009 will be the month that I make more money than I ever did during any month working for The Man(s). For the first time since my untimely departure from a Richmond meat factory media conglomerate in April, I’ll be pulling in grown-up wages with grown-up decimal points and grown-up commas. Okay, just one comma. But still – there’s a comma in there and I likey.

I’ve packaged my skills into a nice little writing/blogging/communication machine and I couldn’t be happier with the work I’ve been doing or the connections I’ve made. Next stop: business license. At some point, I’ll need to make it legit. Who wants some of this? Come get it.

I had a chat last week with someone who is quickly turning into my business mentor (whether she accepts that role or not) about turning unemployment into a business. Selling yourself. Being the business. Doing what you love and putting yourself to work, despite not having a ‘traditional’ job. Following your heart and being happy. It’s real, folks. People do it all the time – sometime’s they’re forced into it because of unemployment (like me). Some people need a push. Some people will never be able to truly pursue happiness because they can’t grow a pair and put forth the effort. I’m happy things turned out the way they did for me. It’s still very much a work in progress, but I think I’m on the right track. The rough thing about freelance writing is that the work can always stop coming in. The good thing, however, is that there is always more work to be found.

I spent all of last week working diligently on articles, videos and blogs. I researched, edited, rendered, and created. I did it all from the comfort of my office, sporting gym shorts and scruffy facial hair. I hung out with some of my favorite Richmond bloggers, including 1/2 of this team and this crazy lady on Thursday. The Wife took me out for a delayed birthday dinner at a fancy-schmancy restaurant on Saturday. I worked malljob for a few hours here and there. I went grocery shopping at bought real honest-to-goodness food that doesn’t come prepackaged or in a box with a smiling glove on the front. I hung out with friends and watched football all day yesterday and reveled in a Buffalo Bills victory. I’m keeping extremely busy. If by ‘busy’, you include the time I spend wrapping tin-foil around the cat’s paws then throwing pieces of ham at him while he’s temporarily immobilized.

Tell you what – that cat doesn’t like to be wrapped in aluminum foil. The dog thought it was hilarious, though. Until I covered him in bedsheets and hit him with couch pillows. Now both him and the cat are holding secret meetings in the basement. I think they’re trying to booby-trap the staircase with trip wire and flying paint cans, Home Alone-style. You know how kids get really frustrated with something that they can’t do and start shaking and crying and punching the air? Hey guys, let me know when you grow some opposable thumbs and learn to tie an overhand knot.

I spend a nice portion of my day playing Rambo with those two. God help me when I have children. It’s gonna be like the Saw movies up in here.