mnvnjnsn's Diary

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The Cretin wins!

For those of you who are counting: I am still unemployed, depressed and bitter. I was pointed to the ad they have online for what used to be my job.

[Go on-- apply. Just keep in mind they forgot to add the 'must be able to read the minds of a couple crazy bitches.']

I'm not sure how I feel about that. On one hand, the quality of candidate they're asking for far outweighs anything I could offer, so it's nice that they were trying to fill an employment need, as opposed to just wanting to get rid of me personally. On the other hand, though-- the one gesturing a big FUCK YOU to my former overlords-- they can't expect someone with this kind of education and experience to put up with all the low-grade mailing list generation and data clean up I had to do. It would have been nice, it would have been neighborly, it would have been decent if they had pulled me into a meeting room and simply told me they were looking to expand the position and, I don't know, offered me something else to do. Jesus Christ, it's not like there wasn't any work for me there. Idiots.

OK, enough of this. Instead, it's time for my brush with a famous person who just died. Ahem:

I was an animal rights activist in college. Although my mother called me a terrorist because of that (no, she did, really. I don't get it either), all I did really was speak at a couple rallies, sit in a couple protests, argue semantics with a couple me-first libertarians. Anyway, I wrote a letter to Bon Appetit about the gory and inhumane treatment of veal calves.

Well, wouldn't you know, it got printed! I didn't expect that. Nor did I expect a letter in the following issue from Julia Child herself, wherein she called me a cretin by name. She actually said, "[mnvnjnsn]... is a cretin."

How about that?

Well, here's hoping she got to the afterworld, was escorted immediately to a 30 in. x 72 in. crate and then given an iron-deficient milk substitute served in a beautiful platinum rimmed crystal goblet.

9:52 p.m. - 2004-08-13


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