98 Over 69….

22 08 2008

That’s my blood pressure at this point in my life.

98 over 69.

How do I know this. Well I was at Rite Aid this fine morning picking up a prescription for my father. But more on that later.

It’s surprising my blood pressure wasn’t higher considering the week I’ve had. By all accounts this wasn’t really THAT bad of a week. I mean there are people who are having a much worse week than I am. So I guess in the grand scheme of things this blog is just going to be a gigantic pity party for me. And you’re all invited.

As many of you may well know, I am currently unemployed. I don’t hide that fact. Rewind to a couple of months ago (6 I think. Good lord.) I interviewed for a position as a Community Relations Manager for the American Cancer Society. The position was perfect for me. Working with events, managing volunteers, and generally reaping a whirlwind of good karma.

The director interviewing me loved me. I felt really good about this opportunity. My friend Gretch who works for the ACS set up the interview and was also my little inside mole to the goings on of the ACS. So after the stellar interview I waited. It wasn’t until about a week or so after the interview that the director called and informed me that, while I was very impressive in the interview, another candidate who had volunteered for the last ten years had applied near the deadline, and they felt as if hiring from “within” was a very important concept for their company. While this stung, I couldn’t help but agree.

However the director informed that a position may be opening up very soon. So I waited. I actually went back to work for the radio station for about a month to a month and a half. Funny things was about that, I went back to the position I had basically had while I was an intern.

While I can’t thank my people at the radio station enough, (the time spent their did bring in some needed income and it was great seeing my friends again) I couldn’t help but want to slit my wrists. You see I was back on the phones calling 14 year old girls alerting them that their valued prize (a cd) was now available for them to come pick up.

However, most 14 year olds aren’t home around 1:30 in the afternoons. And oddly enough, most of the time their dads are. So you can only imagine when a guy who’s near thirty calls an unsuspecting father of a 14 year old girl. Let me just tell you the first couple minutes are VERY awkward.

Dad: “hello”
Me: “Hi, is Mandy home?”
Dad: “WHO is this?!?!”
Me: “This is Preston from Z100.”
Dad: “uh huh.”
Me : “I’m just calling to let her know her Miley Cyrus CD is in.”
Dad: “yeah. I’ll let her know.”
Me: “thank you.”
Dad: “hey, quick question. Is this your number, like can I get a hold of you again? You, know, In case I need to come down there with her???”
Me: “yessir, this is my number. I look forward to seeing you.”
Dad: “I’m sure you do. Goodbye.”

That wasn’t an extreme case even. I’m stressed thinking about it.

Anyway, I did that for awhile, and I will also remind you that this was at the height of Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry “I kissed a girl.” And if you know anything about top 40 radio you’ll know that these two songs were played on average, every hour and a half. Kids love to hear their favorites.

So I left the radio station and had heard rumblings of things coming together at the ACS. So I held off on other opportunities. Even slowed down the job search. A couple weeks ago, I received an email from the ACS saying a position was open, lets meet next week! You can’t imagine how excited I was. Finally!

High School Soccer started this past week, and once again I’m back at my alma matter coaching the goalkeepers with an old friend. It’s great and I love it. Takes my mind off of everything in the entire world for at least 2 hours everyday. This is my fourth year back and I’m excited as ever.

We had tryouts this week, and it was really tough. There was a lot of talent and not a lot of spots. I hate crushing young men’s hopes and dream, which is why I’m not the head coach! Wise is the head coach and he’s the one who had to cut a couple seniors this week. Harsh times. He also got some death glares when announcing who was on what team.

Let me just say, if you suck, you should probably know it. And you shouldn’t question your JV2 team placement. Unless you have those types of parents who pretend you’re good at everything. You’re not. And your parents are just filling your tiny little head with false hopes and dreams. More than likely you should direct your anger toward them instead of the coaching staff of the high school. I only say this, cause I don’t want my car keyed.

After a long day at practice, I came home to check my email.

I had an email from the director of the ACS. Informing me that my driving record from 04-05 was preventing her from hiring me.


I was (am) literally crushed. I think thats the best word for it. I can’t explain it any other way.

So as I’ve been attempting to deal with that (albeit very poorly) I was awaken earlier this Friday morning with a phone call from my mother. It took me a second to realize what was going on. My mom generally never calls me. Cause, well, I’m always home as is she. So the unexpecting phone call woke me quite sudden.

My little brother had gotten into a car accident. I guess he had rear ended some truck and the tralier hitch went through the grill. He and my sister were in the car, and they’re both fine which is all that matters.

I can tell you however, nothing, and I mean nothing freaks me out more than when I hear distress in my moms voice. I shot out of bed and she informed me that my dad needed to be picked up for he should have just been done with having oral surgery.

I went to the oral surgeon to pick up my dad, who was high as a kite. Literally. Like high. I didn’t feel at this place and time was the right time to be telling him that his other son (I was the first mind you) may have totaled the car. I figured we would just sit here in the recovery section, repeating the same conversation over and over again because he couldn’t remember that we had just had it.

After we slowly made it to my car, I took him to rite aid so I could get his prescription filled. The nice lady at the counter informed me it would take roughly 20 minutes for them to fill a couple pills of percoset (one of my favs) into a bottle.

So be it. As my father lay in a heap in the front seat of my car, I decided with all that was wrong with the world to take my blood pressure on one of the cool machines. (I don’t really know how cool they are now, but when I was kid, man, those were the shit.)

As the song “Breaking Up Is Hard To Do” blared over the Rite Aid loudspeaker, reminding me of the Kelly, Brenda, and Emily Valentine love triangle from BH 90210, I couldn’t help but be just a little more at ease. My life as rough as it is right now will never be as bad as the psycho Emily Valentine. I mean, I’ve seen some tough shit before, but burning down a parade float is where I draw the line.

The results for the test were up….

98 over 69 with a pulse of 59 BPM.

Good news. I’m not going to die. My life really isn’t that bad.


I’m A F’ing Pageant Queen.

26 02 2008

So some of you may know….. wait. Actually non of you know cause I’ve never brought it up here.

Well then, a little bit of an backstory is necessary. You see I think one of the reasons I started blogging is because I was (still am) out of my mind bored. I was laid off from my dream job back in October.

I used to work in radio as a Music Director for an adult format station. And no, not that type of adult station. You know the type that plays Elton John, Billy Joel, and mixes in some new shit from Kelly Clarkson or Daughtry. You know, the station your mom used to listen to in the car, and the one you hear while you’re getting your teeth sanded down! Now I’m not saying this was my format of choice, but I worked my ass off and earned my way to one of a radio stations top spots.

And to be honest with you it was fun! It was the best job i’ve ever had. Quite frankly now that I think about it, that’s not really saying that much. Considering I’ve worked at a big box electronics store I shall call the “Buy More.” And I’ve worked at an indoor playground by the name of SuperPlay. Both of witch jobs if I were to still be doing, I may have chosen to slit my wrists and die.

That is all besides the point though. The point is I was laid off. 

Now being laid off has its advantages. I can play World of Warcraft all day long with only lunch/dinner and bathroom breaks to interrupt me. I can stay up till all hours of the night watching Cheaters/Elimidate/RonCo on television. I can also go to Vegas and not care about being sober enough to return to work the next day. With all these pluses comes the downside.

I don’t make any money (other than unemployment) and I have to look for a job. Now I don’t know about you but I can’t stand looking for a job. I wish the job would somehow show up on my doorstep like the baby Moses. But unfortunately that’s not the plan.

So as it happened I came across a promising job that I felt I would really enjoy. It was with a small advertising agency that I though I would do well at. I was put through the process of two interviews, in which I thought I did smashing.

I have to say, that some time in my past I actually dated pageant queen. She was Ms. Small Ass County that entitled her a trip to compete in State. If she were to win at State, it was on to Miss America, WHOO HOO *fist pump*!! Now if you’re a dude and you’re reading this, you have hopefully given me a successful internet blog high five, just for the simple fact that a dude you pseudo know bagged a pageant queen. (ps as a sidebar they’re TOTALLY not supposed to do that.) Anyway, when you’re dating a pageant queen they expect to win. They do all sorts of crazy shit for six months in attempts to win. Diet, exercise, take pills, throw up, practice their talent, practice their platform and who knows what else. Most of the time in expense of spending time with reality.

After all this is said and done a pageant queen comes away winning or losing. There really is no middle ground. When they win, all is right with the world. When they lose. EVERYTHING is wrong. Their dress was the wrong color, vaseline didn’t make me smile enough, Susie had bigger breasts, my speech wasn’t good enough, I did an 7 counts instead of 8 in my dance, the judge thought I was a whore, my platform sucked… all of these and MILLIONS more a pageant queen thinks about when they lose.

And then…. it hit me. I’m a fucking pageant queen. For the last 24 hours I’ve been sitting at home questioning what the hell happened??? I thought they liked me. Was my tie crooked, was one of the girls threatened by my stunning good looks, did I answer a question wrong, should I have shaved for the second interview, was my hair wrong (it wasn’t) did I wear the right shoes, should I have lost a few more pounds??

I’ve been at a loss all day. I thought I nailed the interview. I thought I nailed the talent portion.

At the end of the judging process, it’s not the one with the most charisma, talent, and poise, it’s the one who fucks the judges.