It's In The Stars

The other day I read my horoscope as I was paging through the Chicago Tribune. I was instructed that today would be a good day to ask for a raise. Seeing as I currently pull down the large sum of zero dollars an hour, which totals $0 every two weeks, I thought it was good advice. Some day, hopefully soon, when I have a job, I await the return of this horoscope. At which point I will walk into my superior's office, slam down the torn piece of paper and say "I think we need to talk."

Has anyone ever followed the advice of their horoscope?

I'm waiting for the "Today is a 1. Go back to bed." horoscope. Usually the forecasts for the day are at least a 3. Maybe the writers fear their influence on the person anxiously reading their horoscope as they inch toward the ledge of a skyscaper seeking some advice what to do.

I have yet to read an obit that says someone was found with the horoscope section beside them. The grim prediciton: Today is a 1. That sounds like a short film. Who wants to film it with me?

And I send my tape to...?

I'm pretty sure he won't be back. Then again, he's been with the station since 1990, according to Wikipedia. Now, to whom do I send my demo reel?
I could do crazy stuff like this. He should have looked down at his "script" or made some sort of pause.

Odd Jobs

As I spend most of my day trolling through the classifieds and online advertisements for alleged openings, I come across some opportunities that seem too good to be true. Such as this posting on Craigslist:

Drive Icecream Truck, Make Kids Happy, Get Paid Daily!!

Here's the full ad:

Date: 2008-06-19, 9:32AM CDT

I am looking for someone clean cut (check) and has a good driving record (debatable). This is a 6-7 days a week job. Hours will be from around noon until dark. Different pay options available. Commission or Hourly. Pay starts at $10.00. Call Jason Today (his last name is Today? That must be rough.) to set up an appointment. Applicant must be at least 18 years old or older (Isn't that covered when you said "at least"?). Male or female (Check). Must live within 15 miles from Elgin (double check) Spanish speaking a plus! Cash Paid Daily (I love cash)! 847-###-####. Do not email me.

A few things here:

• I had a good driving record until that ticket for not coming to a complete stop at a stop sign.
• I think this should be reworded to "This job will be your life."
• I love making kids happy.
  
• There is no mention of being able to tolerate "Turkey and the Straw" for hours on end.

Please post other dream jobs you come across.

Taking Pilates Back

It has come to my attention that mentioning my penchant for pilates is construed as feminine. The mere mention that I got my quasi-chiseled physique through the aid of pilates elicits a giggle from the people I tell, mainly the ladies. Therefore, it is time that the record be set straight about the intensity and hyper-manliness of pilates.

For those unaware of the history of pilates, the exercise was developed to keep veterans mentally and physically strong.

"...emphasizing control and form to aid injured soldiers in regaining their health by strengthening, stretching, and stabilizing key muscles."

That's right. Soldiers and veterans. No mention of yuppies or soccer moms.

A cursory glance at fitness/pilates DVDs provides a view to some Arian society, where all the members are slim, fit females. There are very few discs that have a man as the instructor. I'll blame Mari Winsor and Los Angeles for this travesty.

My interest in pilates began when I started going to physical therapy for a hip injury incurred while practicing for a dance show. I attempted to do a dip with my partner and my leg wasn't positioned properly. Subsequently, my leg moved in a way it wasn't supposed to move.

The therapist and orthopedic doctors said I injured my hip flexor muscle, so this wasn't a standard boo-boo. Among my recommended strengthening exercises were some pilates movements to strengthen my legs and abs. I've never been one to exercise consistently. I'm a walker not a runner. After about a month of rehab I started to notice muscles in places previously characterized as nondescript. These muscles came at a price. Pilates isn't easy. It involves sweat and, for me, a reminder of how inflexible I am and how far my toes truly are. So, I continued to do pilates and the stretching exercises. I bought a Swiss exercise ball and began branching out in my fitness regime.

So, men, rise up. It is time we reclaim pilates as our own. Women, you can keep the tight-fitting aerobics wear, but your theft of our masculine exercise regimen is over.

That Other 10 Percent

During an IHS lecture by Carolyn Lochhead of the San Francisco Chronicle, she mentioned how showing up is 90 percent of the battle of being a journalist. As I recall the other 10 is miscellaneous factors to being a good journalist. Inspired by this, I have decided to show up at area newsrooms ready to work.

The other 10 percent could be actually being permitted to work someplace. Nevertheless, I am resolute in my goal of employment. I wonder what sort of reaction I'd get by simply showing up. My theory is a quick refusal by security or the receptionist, but it certainly would show moxie.

I've also thought of going to local city hall and school board meetings to write briefs about what happened and submit them to the local papers. It would serve as a pencil sharpener for my writing skills and could be a foot in to a job.

Travel back home

For some of us going home proved more difficult than anticipated. It was hard enough saying goodbye to the new friends and free beer. While promising to stay in touch as if it were some semblance of summer camp, travel woes exacerbated the pain. For me, it was clinical separation anxiety. It all started...as I said my farewells with Brian. You may have seen the now famous chest bump video, if not it is definitely Must See tv.

The trouble truly began with the chest bump and doing it a second time for Kristy and her camera. Brian and I were going to take the train to the airport with Jen from Seattle, but I wanted to say my buh-bye's and one thing led to another...Brian and I got to the train just as the train pulled up. There was a problem. Neither of us had any cash. So the train system that strands you downtown when it sprinkles, will also leave you out in the heat if you are without cash.

Here's where I may have changed the future. I never thought I had any supernatural powers, but this may be exhibit A. So, I missed the train. I called to see if my flight was on-time, which United told me was on schedule. At that moment, thinking it was possible for me to miss my flight, I thought please let my flight be a little delayed. Famous last words.

We took the next train and switched at 30th Street station. It was on the second train that I had a super gross-out moment. I had stashed some donuts, a half of an egg bagel and an apple in my carry-on for an in-flight snack. On the train, I popped a donut in my mouth. After a few bites, I glance down into my bag. Little ants crawling all over the place. I stopped chewing, reached for a napkin and promptly expelled all contents from my mouth, possibly including teeth, into the napkin.

We arrived at the airport around 4 p.m. and I made it to my gate by 4:30. My flight was supposed to leave at 5:35.

It was delayed...and didn't leave until 10:30. Yeah airlines!!! In my mind, I saw this delay as a cinematic opportunity to say some dramatic farewells. That didn't happen.

If that wasn't bad enough, the real fun began when I landed in Chicago. I had to go into the city to meet up with my mom and sis at a hotel near Wrigley Field. That should be a 30 minute trip. I got my luggage, got on the L and was on my way. After two stops the train halted. There was construction on the track. So, I had to take a bus around the construction to get back aboard the train. I ended up taking a taxi from where the bus dumped me in Jefferson Park to Wrigley. I put my bags down at 1:30 a.m. local time. That's right friends, 10 hours of traveling using trains, trolleys, cabs, buses and don't forget the feet.

I would have rather spent time with my friends then sitting at the airport.

Feel free to share your travel woes. I have set the bar. Jump over the bar.