For anyone who cares, I've put a few new articles up on my shameless self-promotion venue, er, Web site. They're the fruit of some of my latest freelance labor. The rest of the site is pretty much exactly the same as when I first put it up -- except I had to change Henry's age in my bio section. So much for the immediacy of the Internet. Last time I put anything on that site, H was still in Pampers.
If you don't have the site addy, e-mail me and I'll give it to you. Not that I don't trust those in the Blogosphere. But I don't trust those in the Blogosphere.
Why add and update now, you ask?
Two words: JOB INTERVIEW!
I have an interview a week from Friday for a real-life, full-time, editorial position. Not saying anything more, for fear of completely jinxing myself.
I must say, the call from the potential employer could not have come at a better time. I'm not sure how long I can continue to remove staples, tape receipts to pieces of paper, and make copies. One more paper cut in the wrong place, and I could bleed out.
And did I mention I wear a tiny little condom-like device on my finger to help with quick flipping of paper while sorting? It has nothing to do with safer-sorting practices. In fact, it cuts off the circulation to my fingertip, so that the next morning, I wake up feeling as though my finger has a wad of rubber bands wound around it.
The saving grace has been my iPod. What a brilliant invention podcasts are. Since my co-workers treat me like the plague and have banished me to the "Employee Center" (which is a fancy-pants way of saying the lunch room) to do my job, I spend my days with NPR repeats of This American Life, Fresh Air, and The Story with Dick Gordon. A temp...with culture. Who'da thunk it.
If you don't have the site addy, e-mail me and I'll give it to you. Not that I don't trust those in the Blogosphere. But I don't trust those in the Blogosphere.
Why add and update now, you ask?
Two words: JOB INTERVIEW!
I have an interview a week from Friday for a real-life, full-time, editorial position. Not saying anything more, for fear of completely jinxing myself.
I must say, the call from the potential employer could not have come at a better time. I'm not sure how long I can continue to remove staples, tape receipts to pieces of paper, and make copies. One more paper cut in the wrong place, and I could bleed out.
And did I mention I wear a tiny little condom-like device on my finger to help with quick flipping of paper while sorting? It has nothing to do with safer-sorting practices. In fact, it cuts off the circulation to my fingertip, so that the next morning, I wake up feeling as though my finger has a wad of rubber bands wound around it.
The saving grace has been my iPod. What a brilliant invention podcasts are. Since my co-workers treat me like the plague and have banished me to the "Employee Center" (which is a fancy-pants way of saying the lunch room) to do my job, I spend my days with NPR repeats of This American Life, Fresh Air, and The Story with Dick Gordon. A temp...with culture. Who'da thunk it.
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