No, this isn't a Pink Floyd post. It's in reference to my mental funk, put in place by the staggeringly annoying job market I've been beating my head against in futility. This is compounded by the fact that we moved to the rectum of Massachusetts (Worcester), just out of reasonable distance to any decent writing or tech jobs, and the fact that I ordered a computer the other day based on the promise of training session the following day that never happened at a job I supposedly have. She was supposed to call. I was supposed to start working. She didn't call, and it's throwing off my mindset for the whole goddamn weekend.
What's more, I skim postings on Craigslist in San Francisco and Seattle, and all kinds of shit is going on out there that I'd like to be doing. Of course, the chances of landing any one of those jobs is still pretty slim, but working for Wired Magazine is still a little more in line with my interests and experience than, say, TechTarget or Monster.com, which are places I've interviewed before.
There is no place to play hockey around here (come the fuck on; it's the east coast, where hockey practically got started in the U.S.), but even if there were, it's been raining here the last four days and shows no signs of letting up any time soon.
I still have no idea where to go in this town to meet girls, let alone any I can tolerate. I'm just in a really pissed off headspace right now. Pardon me.
On the upside, the sperm donor thing has moved to step two, and it earned me a pair of movie tickets, which represents a higher level of irony for me. On one hand, it's kind of depressing that I can't find a girl who'll go to a movie with me, but on the other, it's something of a date proposition, and if the cryobank wants decent samples, the last thing I should be doing is having more sex.
Either way, the next step I believe is blood tests for genetic and infectious agent screening. They gotta make sure I'm clean and not going to cause kids to grow a third arm or anything. It would SEEM like a walk in the park, given what I know about my family history, but god knows what they're going to find when they do the genetic screening. Hell, I might have an STD by now for all I know. Seems EXTREMELY unlikely, mainly because you have to have the S to get the TD, but you never know. Maybe I've got a brain tumor in my future and my dick's gonna rot off unexpectedly. Or maybe genetic leprosy runs in the fam. Then we can swap body parts at Christmas.
My roommates are chronic slobs, which also gets to me. Leaving dishes sit out, unsoaked. Not changing the TP roll. Leaving used cotton swabs on the floor. Clumps of cat hair here and there. Towels left on the floor or stuffed behind the towel bar rather than hung up in any kind of proper manner. Stains all over the stove. Stinky cats. Used maxi pads that missed the trash can. Hair all over the sink. Spilling milk on the table and not cleaning it up. Shoes left out everywhere and anywhere. Balled up socks stuffed into the seat cushions in the living room. Not putting the twist tie back on the bread bag so it just sits there turning into croutons. Dishes that WERE supposedly washed but are put away still dirty or WET. Screaming baby and sassy 8-year-old. And that pervasive SMELL in the next room where they sit all day. Put a gun in my mouth please.