“Lemme dew it!” This is the official battle cry of the two year old. This is usually proceeded by: “I need help.” The girls are not necessary in the terrible twos as they are the tiring and annoying twos. With constant whining and screaming protest, they try to assert themselves as much as they can. We usually ignore them unless we’re in a hurry and have no interest in waiting for them to put their own shoes on as we are 30 minutes late for something and they still haven’t put their pants on. “m” has become the mistress of speech as she constantly flexes her vocabulary muscles, usually beyond her limited reach. You can hold entire conversations with her even tough you may have to stop her a couple of times to ask: “What?” to which she’ll repeat: “I have big cock.” With a little bit of detective work, you can figure out she meant to say: “I have hiccups.” “a” has become a danger mouse. Climbing up various structures and doing head stands in the crib (which inspire m to do the same). Her freakish agility and acrobatics have convinced me that she might be an X-Man. What’s next? Fire from the eyeballs?
This has been the year of sickness. We have so far survived: Cold, flu, pink eye, stomach flu (throwing up for a full week, what fun!) and recently strep throat. They say that the average kid gets 6 colds per year: Multiply that times two and that means we will be sick12 months per year!
This morning, as we lay in bed, there was a “tweet”. “Is that a bird?” M asked. She got out of bed and ran to the window to see if there was a bird trying to get in or something. A second later, a black feathery flapping shape flew from behind the bed; over my head and around the room. This sent me flying out of the bed in a girly-girl panic, falling onto the floor and dragging the entire bed linen with me. “It’s just a bird.” M said. Obviously taking the role of the “Man”. I ran out of the room to get a broom to shoo the thing out. By the time I got back, M had already got it out and probably had a short conversation worth it:
Bird: “What’s HER problem?”
M: “Oh, he’s just a little stressed, he lost his job.”
Bird: “What a wuss, try spending all night in a bed room, with two cats sleeping in the same room!”
This was true, the cats were in the room with this bird all night and not once did they wake up, meow or try to catch it. Lazy, dishonorable cats.
Oh yeah, did I mention I got fired? Well, technically they laid me off but the way they did it means they don’t have to hire me again. That’s right after 5 years of bullshit and threatening me, they found a way to fire someone who’s doing a decent job, never calls in sick and won’t just quit. They knew they couldn’t do it without a good reason, like punching another employee or masturbating in the coffee machine, punching a person whose masturbating in the coffee machine or punching a person while masturbating in the coffee machine: Note to employees, don’t drink the coffee! They knew that they couldn’t fire me, so what do they do? They destroy my job. They eliminated my job position saying that there was no work for me to do (lie). They listed me as a cameraman even tough I’ve been doing nothing but typesetting for the last two years. But on paper, my title still says cameraman so they say there’s no jobs for a cameraman because there’s no more camera. Therefore we have to lay you off. BUT there will never be a camera so there’s no job to go back to! Which means I’m actually fired. They say I have 1 month until I’m out, take me away immediately away from my computer to prevent me from sending out that virus I created that makes your face melt off like in Indiana Jones and stick me in the warehouse in the back to do…filing?
I - am - freaking - out!
After a while, my fear turned into joy. After 5 years of eating bullshit with a red-hot fork, while someone tells me that a loser worker I am, I’m finally free! Free!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some employees actually told me how they wished it were them so they could finally have a motivating excuse to get out of there. And that’s how I felt (feel) like life could see me eating more flaming hot bullshit with an aged rusty fork, for the next 15 years, at which point they fire me, right before retirement! So it’s good that this happened while I still have most of my teeth and don’t need adult diapers.
I had no interest in doing filing for my last month there. I remember, long ago the incompetent assistant manager saying how they had an account with an online training company and if I wanted to, I could schedule some time and take some classes. Motherfucker, I never took lunch, how the fuck could I take online training. But wait, I thought (after apologizing for calling him a motherfucker) I have all the time in the world now. Okay, I say. I’m signing up for those online classes, NOW motherfucker! And oh yeah, since you took me away from my computer, I need to be somewhere with a computer. Perhaps the other campus, near the bay or near Golden Gate park. And that’s what I did. I started spending my days learning new computer classes at other locations where the neighborhoods were not filled with crack/heroin addicts. Where you didn’t have to constantly avoid the human turds land mines. Where, on hot days, the streets don’t smell like boiled piss and you have a view of the Oakland bridge or Golden Gate park instead a cock roach taco stand, discount salmonella food store or front row seats to: la Cirque du Clochard*
Because I have no job to go back to, I’m basically starting from scratch. I’ve talked to many departments and people whose job it is to deal with lay off workers. One told me I could apply for jobs within my union category that I’m qualified for and can get first dibs on them. Jobs which have nothing to do with typesetting or even art: Senior Editor, Firefighter (it’s true), Computer IT Specialist, Submarine Captain, Jedi Knight level II. I mean how stupid, I’m only Jedi Assistant level.
Getting back to the giant bird that attacked me this morning…okay it was a tiny sparrow–but still. I looked up ‘sparrow in the house’ in superstition and came up with: There will be a death of someone in the house soon. Oh…great on top of everything else I have a medieval curse in my house. We do have an 18-year-old cat so I’m hoping if it’s true...Well, you know. But that day, when I went to clean the porn screensavers off of my computer and get that virus sent, The Ass Manager told me to see them when I was done. Oh great, what else can they do to me, official going away ball kicking? When I was done and people’s faces at the other computers started melting off, I went to see the incompetent assist manager and this awful Asian woman who’d steal the pencils out of a blind beggar’s cup for a job promotion. They gave me my last check and made me turn in my badge and keys. I can tell you, nothing finalizes a firing more than that. It took all of my strength and anxiety training to prevent from fainting on the sidewalk outside (that and if you touch the sidewalk in the Mission District, you get dissentary). Like I had been reduced to a civilian or once had super powers and had been kryptonited. I felt…dead? Ah, so hopefully that’s what the sparrow was all about. It seems with all change, something old must die. My job is dead and good riddance but it’s tough adjusting to life after a long abusive relationship. We all know that Dar-lene needs to leave her wife-beating NASCAR luv’n husband, Mullethead and their shot gun shack trailer park paradise. But where the hell can Dar-lene and her 80 kids go on her skill level? We both have the same chance of being a Jedi Knight. Then again, there’s always school.
Time to find Master Yoda.
That’s it
EM
*Clochard [klo-shar] n tramp
