I Am My Own Worst Enemy

First, let me say a big old thanks to Cammy, Jill and Cindy for their great suggestions and help with my resume. I used every single suggestion and have started to get a few nibbles from the new and improved resume and kick but(t) cover letters.

Now, if only someone other than me did the interview!

I am no longer articulate! (My gray matter is as smooth as glass.)

And apparently, I have the skills of a good politician . . . as in not answering the question asked and instead talking about something different and nodding my head in agreement . . . at the same time.

My favorite thing is to call the company I'm interviewing at by the wrong name!

Man, you should see the look on the interviewer's face when that happens!

If anything, I might have a career in writing a book on "NOT what to say or do during job interviews for dummies".

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I have had a sinus/cold thing going on for the last 6 weeks.

Now if I were auditioning for a role as Rudolph, there wouldn't be a problem but going to a job interview with a shinny red nose (because it is so chapped that I have had to resort to rubbing Aquaphor around the nostrils) is very unattractive.

"No, I rarely call in sick . . .cough, cough."

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I'm worried most about (should a job offer be offered my way) asking off for vile's trial. I guess I will cross that bridge when I'm lucky enough to have a job.

Bruised Butt . . . Not Battered

After I posted yesterday and sent off an email, I ventured down the stairs to warm up my coffee and on the fifth step from the bottom . . . I fell down the stairs. It wasn't a movie prat fall but(t) a fall landing on my butt, legs stretched out, as if I was riding a snow saucer down a hill . . . thump, thump, thump, thump . . . thump.

It was a 4.8 on the Richter scale.

As I sat on the floor, stunned, I immediately thought "please God, don't let my butt be broken".

I got on my hands and knees and pushed myself up, though my bottom was feeling some pain, I'm pretty sure the extra padding kept the tail bone from breaking.

But(t) it still hurt.

Walking it off by pacing around the foyer, I was overcome with relief that nothing was broken and begin to laugh hysterically. The thought of going to the hospital with a broken butt would have been too embarrassing. Of course, had this been Reuben's time, I would have been a celebrity going into the hospital with a Reuben-isque broken bum. Back then, the doctors would call in nurses, interns and orderlies to admire my awesomeness of dimples, lumps and bumps . . . but(t) the reality is, I'm living in the 21st century.

The grouchy nurse, angry that a size 14/16 was staring her/him in the face, would yell down the hall for all to hear . . . "were gonna need bigger gauze!"

Also, I was relieved I wouldn't have to explain the cough syrup on my breath, as I had just had a hefty sip of Delysm 12 hour cough syrup* for a nagging cough I have had since mid December. (*I'm pretty sure Delysm doesn't make one groggy nor does it have a warning that one should not operate heavy machinery or walk down wood stairs with socks on.) Phew, no rumors of me being "under the influence" to deal with.

But(t) the moral of this story for me is this: something (the straw) did happen and it didn't break my back or butt. I survived and giggled out loud at my misstep. And once the coffee mess was cleaned up, I realized I didn't implode! I chose to carve out some relaxation time for myself.

So I made a cup of herbal tea and took the other stairs with carpet (to soften any falls).


P.S. - Very brusied but(t) not broken!

That Girl

Lately, I have felt that if any more straw is thrown on this old camel's back . . . implosion might occur. Then, I spoke with my big sis yesterday morning and she told me to start telling myself or chanting "this is only temporary, this is only temporary".

She also reminded me of a conversation that I had on June 25th when I asked my then husband "Is this the only phone call you can make?"

Jailed vile husband: "Yes!"

Me: "Then you made the wrong phone call." Click.

I need to channel that girl who was so strong and smart that horrific day.

Off to go chant . . .

Those Sneaky Pounds and other things:

The morning of January 1st, I got out of bed, groaned and pulled out the Tanita hidden under the bed.

Might as well see the damage.

I had to get on and off that scale five times before I accepted the number on the read out dial . . . 167.4 pounds!

Yee Haw!!!!

Not only do those pounds sneak up on you, apparently they can sneak off too!

Haven't weighed 167 in over 6 years (which didn't last long) though, I did see a blip of 167 in November of 2007, it was only for a few hours . . .

Since losing on the Crack the Fat diet, I was maintaining around 173/174.

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I'm going to be emailing some of you with an attachment of my resume as a rich text file. I do not have Microsoft Works (only Tasks) and cannot send a doc file. Anyway, I would love, love, love any advice you might have (I promise I can handle constructive criticism) on improving my chances for getting an interview!

I have applied for many administrative assistant positions because that is where my strongest skills are but have not been able to secure interviews and I would love, love, love any feedback you might have.

Every rejection email/letter that I get has me wondering . . . why? My former supervisors have all given me great references (for the one interview I scored for a foodstamps clerk), my criminal background is clean, etc.

Any advice would be appreciated.

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Vickie wanted to know if I cut my hair myself in the bathroom (I thought that was so funny and it gave me a much needed laugh . . . I was kind of dramatic about it!)

The girl who has cut my hair for the last year . . . had a bad day. I asked to go shorter and it looked like some weird version of the Kate (of Jon and Kate) thing . . . only ugly. So I waited three days and went to another hairdresser and asked her to just give me a pixie. Currently, my hair is as short as Jamie Lee Curtis' on those laxative yogurt commercials.

Short.

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