Finally, an excellent interview!

So, I finally had my interview in Brookline last night with that PR firm I've been talking about for weeks. I think people have begun to think it doesn't ACTUALLY exist. It does.

It went swimmingly. The president of the company, named Jennifer, and one of her PR managers, named Alex, took me out to this swanky French/Cambodian restaurant on Beacon St. The food was super-expensive and to top it all off, I had mentioned in a phone conversation with her that I enjoyed Riesling wine, so she ordered an $89 bottle of the restaurant's finest Riesling, even though I had only intended upon drinking water because wine gets me fucked up really fast.

And normally, the last thing you'd want to do on an interview is get drunk.

Even though the two people interviewing you at the table are noticably so.

Yup, they got drunk. Well, not completely drunk, but a little...well, happy. It was an enjoyable time, though. Again, their being so nice made it a whole lot less stressful.

They kept saying, "If you decide to work for us..." blah, blah, blah--as if it was going to be MY decision and they had already made theirs. I take this to be a good sign.

I'd mainly be working from home in this position, too. It involves a fair amount of media relations, which I have some skill in. Despite all of my talk, I can actually be quite the charmer when I need to--so dealing with the media and selling a product to them (so they attend trade shows about the product and publicize it well) is actually something I do pretty decently.

The position involves some event planning, too. There is travel to various trade shows--mainly over in Europe. International travel is definitely intriguing, as I have actually never been overseas.

So, I'm not a worldly bitch. Yet.

I'm going to e-mail them a list of some questions I have for them tonight, as last night's dinner was definitely very informal. I'll let you know more details as soon as they respond...

Doctors and stuff.

Dentist's appointment went well last night. No cavities. In fact, the hygenist brought the dentist over BEFORE my cleaning to check out how clean my teeth were.

Yeah, I rock. Being ridiculous about personal hygiene really pays off.

And I thought they'd tell me I'd need to have my wisdom teeth pulled, but in fact, they are actually coming in relatively straight and since they're not causing me any pain (as of now, anyway), they can stay in.

Double YAY!

I have the fun lady doctor tonight. I'll be extra relieved when she tells me that my syphillis, gonorrhea and herpes have finally cleared up.

Definitely just kidding.

So I FINALLY have my second interview with that PR company tomorrow night at a restaurant in Brookline. The president of the company seems super, super nice. She had to postpone our dinner from last Wednesday, so she called me up to see if there was an alternate date I'd be available. We chatted for the better portion of an hour. She seems so personable that I'm honestly not nearly as nervous about tomorrow night as I usually am at interviews.

Other than that, nothing new going on, really. They keep telling me here at work that I'll have my job until April, then taking it back. I have it again, then they take it back. It's getting tiring; it'd be nice to know either way. Make a decision, for Christ's sake.

I'm starting to become an Air Force hater. :)

Tata for now!

Dentist. Ick.

So, I have a dentist appointment in an hour and a half and I'm bored now, so I'm writing about one of my biggest fears.

I loathe the dentist. Like, even moreso than most people. I'd seriously and sincerely rather go to the gynocologist ten times than visit the dentist once.

I hate the smell of the office. I hate the sound of the equipment, especially the drill. It makes my skin crawl. I HATE needles with all of my being and soul and I HATE how gung-ho they are about giving them. I've actually had an extremely deep cavity filled without novacaine.

This is not because I'm bad-ass. This is because I'd rather deal with the pain of the filling than deal with some insane man putting a needle into my gums.

He's not really insane, either. He's actually an extremely nice man. He'd be a blast to hang out with--outside of the office. But in there, he's my worst enemy. I'm like the kid from "Home Alone" who's scared of the furnace in the basement. He knows it provides heat for the house--a good thing--yet, he is frightened of it anyway. I know that the dentist provides a good service--preventing any need for dentures by the time I'm 27--but I am frightened of him anyway.

What makes this experience even more nerve-wracking is that I am getting my first wisdom tooth. It is not bothering me in any way and has already broken through the skin. It's not giving me any pain, so if the dentist says it needs to come out, I'm basically telling him to fuck off because unless it's hurting me and hurting me BADLY, it's staying IN. I am avoiding any sort of surgery like the plague, especially since surgery involves needles and I'm just plain not cool with that because I'm a needle-wuss.

So, yeah. That's my nervousness coming through in what I enjoy theh most--writing.

And remember how I said I'd rather visit the gynocologist than the dentist?

It's all good, because she's coming up tomorrow. I can hardly fucking wait.

Eggroll.

I have nothing substantial to write, really. But I thought I'd share this little funny tidbit.

I reheated some Chinese Food last night. I placed the remaining half an eggroll in the oven (along with some chicken fingers, crab rangoons, etc.) and pulled it out a few minutes later.

When I pulled it out, I looked at the food and the eggroll was at an angle where it looked like there was a huge spider on top of it.

So, of course I jumped with the tray in hand and got hot Chinese food all over me and the stovetop.

There was no spider.

And Karen the Great just admitted to you that she was momentarily scared of an eggroll.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Laurie's expectations VS. Karen's expectations

My friend Laurie has been going through some tough times right now. She's having some "appreciation" issues. As in, people don't fucking appreciate all she does for them. She fucking rocks and should be appreciated. I know I do.

So, as a way to deal with the various people in her life who don't appreciate her, she came up with a (sarcastic) list of ten things she will learn to expect from the vast majority of people she is ever to come across (strangers, family and friends alike). She has given me full permission to publish this:

1) I'll expect everyone to spit on me and when that doesn't happen...I'll be pleasantly surprised.

2) I won't expect anyone to say thank you - EVER...and when I do get a thank you...tape record it and play it over & over all the time!

3) I won't expect anyone to think of anyone but themselves...and when offered a chewed piece of gum...I will accept it proudly and be grateful.

4) I won't expect the common courtesy that strangers give eachother from my family members...if I hear from them before I die...I can die in peace and be grateful.

5) I will expect that upon entering and exiting a door - that said door will #1 - not be held for me, and #2 even better - hit me in the face.

6) And...on the same lines of the above...if I do hold a door for someone....they will not "take" the door, but however proceed to walk in with their whole family and not say thank you. Oh God...that's my pleasure. Let me know when you are leaving and I'll get the door for you again....no problem at all....and p.s. - it would be really nice if you and your whole family could spit on me as you are all leaving.

7) I will expect that when I ask someone to come along on vacation, that it is automatically assumed that I am paying for their trip and expenses while away.....and never to speak a word of it again. Here's my check book...help yourself.

8) I will expect to be run off the road on a daily basis......hey as long as the other person is ok...I'm good.

9) I will work until my fingers are bloody stumps....oh no....paycheck? OH pish...you keep it...I should be paying you to work here!

10) I will expect that marriage is one sided. I am the woman and should be sub-serviant. How dare I even consider having a life outside of the marriage. I am a selfish biotch with bad thoughts of going shopping, going to the gym or god forbid out for a drink without the permission or accompiant of my "better" half. Perhaps a labotomy would cure that.

I, too, have been going through some...how shall we say...interesting times. However, the most important difference between Laurie and yours truly is that Laurie still gives a shit as to how people treat her (to some extent anyway) and I do not. The reason? I have simply gone crazy. I actually went crazy many moons ago and I think people just choose to let it slide out of fear.

So, as a result, I have come up with my own little list. They involve ways by which I actually SHOW people how I don't give a fuck anymore:

1.) If someone were to actually have the balls to spit on me, they should be prepared to face the consequences. I hail from New Hampshire. Why should that matter, you ask? Well, it means that I can very easily acquire possession of a firearms license to then purchase a decent rifle to fire at those very big testicles that person must indeed have.

2.) I expect everyone to say 'thank you' when I go out of my way for them. If they do not, I will actually go out of MY way to embarass them. I do this by virtually SCREAMING, "You are EVER so welcome, your Royal Highness! Is there anything ELSE I can do for you? Shine your shoes? Wax your car? Be your personal fucking PROSTITUTE? ANYTHING at all? OK then!" This really makes the ungrateful individual extremely uncomfortable, and that is the goal!

3.) I expect people, once in a while, to do things for the greater "good" of mankind. Yeah, I just laughed at that notion, too, but I do. When people think solely of themselves, I immediately go out of my way to remind them of how terrible a human being they are, and how I just spoke with Jesus and He fully intends upon punishing them and their children and their children's children forever and ever, Amen. I then pretend to cast a voodoo spell on them, so they become so incredibly frightened (after all, evil spirits AND Jesus are BOTH against them at this point), they donate their entire estate to the Salvation Army.

4.) I expect common courtesy from family members much of the time. When I don't get it, I fake a major illness in order to guilt them into expressing common courtesy, and even perhaps love, on me. Try it--it's fun.

5.) If someone does not hold a door for me as common courtesy requires, I make it a point to RUN to the next door and hold it open for them just until they get to the point where I can release it and whack them in the face. Makes me laugh every time. For days.

6.) When I hold a door open for someone and they refuse to thank me for the courtesy I have extended, I play a little role-playing game! I imitate the person's voice and say something along the lines of, "Thank you so kindly, miss! You truly are a wonderful addition to our rude society!" to which I respond in MY voice, "You are truly welcome, sir! Here is my business card! If I can ever hold a door open for you again, please do not hesitate to call!" This is a fun little game indeed and causes you to look crazier than anyone could possibly imagine.

7.) When I ever-so-graciously agree to "spot" someone money for a vacation or for any reason, and the individual refuses to pay me back in a reasonable amount of time, I simply ever-so-calmly wait until he/she is in the most DIRE of straights financially. I'm talking almost-homeless, here. At that point, I sternly tell the person I need the money he/she owes me. Now. You'd think the sheer look of panic on the person's face when he/she realizes he doesn't have the money in his/her account would be payment enough, but it isn't. Hehe.

8.) I expect to be treated with courtesy on the roads at all times. I drive a lot; not ticking me off is the least people can do. When someone, on the rare occasion, decides to fuck with me and/or run me off of the road, I aggressively follow them with a Hannibal Lecter-look on my face, wait for a stop light, exit my vehicle with The Club in hand and allow them the chance to apologize. You know why? Because I'm a fucking LADY. Most of these individuals apologize. When they do not, I bash in their windshields and as many car windows I can until the light turns green.

9.) I will work. Hard. I don't mind that. But I expect to be rewarded for my hard work on occasion. A nice pat on the back will do; a sizable raise/bonus will do better. When my boss screws me over for my annual raise, for no reason other than she is a douchebag and doesn't like other women, I get just a little upset and do everything within my power to make her look as bad as possible so that she subsequently gets a demotion, a bigger workload, and is no longer my boss anymore. My new boss now gets me nice raises. He's a nice man. And a smart man.

10.) I will expect, considering the fact that I am insane and should likely be on massive quantities of medication, that no man will want me. If perchance, a man DOES decide he wants me (I have pretty sweet boobs, after all), he will expect for me to drink with the girls on Friday and/or Saturday nights (at least), go shopping a few times a month (at least) and oh, I dunno...not OWN me and my every move. I choose not to live in Afganistan for a reason. He can then expect for me not to cheat on him, to cook (only because I like to cook), to clean house (only because I have OCD and like to clean things) and to have sex with him on a regular basis (because I enjoy sex). I think these are reasonable accommodations for any man.

That is all. Enjoy your day.

P.S. To all those who are prepared to bash me, keep in mind that I am, for the most part, kidding. I think.

Will Arnett

I have a new boyfriend. His name is Will Arnett. He's Canadian. I heart Canadians. I saw him in "Let's go to Prison" and I must say I have just a witttttllllle crush.

And what's gross to me is that he's married to Amy Poehler...that ugly blonde girl from SNL who does the Weekend Update. Ew.

Anyway, here he is:

Construction, etc.

I am sincerely going insane.

I am at my desk at work right now, being forced to listen to construction workers drilling and cutting up marble flooring RIGHT NEXT FUCKING DOOR TO MY OFFICE. There is a thin wall between us, and the noise is so bad that I cannot hear people on my phone, so therefore, cannot even pick it up when it rings.

I can't hear my boss shouting to me from his office next door, either.

This is something that should be done off-hours. But no, the government is so smart that they choose to have them do this contruction while people are here, trying to get their own work done.

We can't even hear ourselves think. Seriously. It's so bad that my boss is considering telling us all to go home. There's no relief.

And to make matters even MORE fun, we come in from the weekend to find a thick layer of white dust all over EVERYTHING. It's on our desks, furniture, computers, phones, EVERYTHING. When we opened the little fridge we have in our office, we found dust INSIDE of it.

So our eyes are watering and our throats are dry as hell.

We go to the building manager and he basically tells us to fuck off. It's not in HIS office, after all, so why should HE care? Silly us!

We call the environmental division to come do an air screening. They thankfully come right away and tell us that at least there's nothing poisonous in the air (they found asbestos in the walls just last week, so we were just a TAD concerned of lung cancer). I think they lied, but whatever. If I get mesothelioma, I'm so suing the Air Force for all they're worth. I'm going to own the Air Force.

Moving along! My weekend was good. Saw a movie last night with Jeff--"Let's go to Prison." Really very funny. My kind of humor--dry with a raunchiness to it. Loved it. Went to Danielle's for a little while beforehand to wish her a happy birthday and drop off her gifts. Unfortunately I couldn't stay long, so I just took some of their food and bolted. I feel really bad about that; I'll bring food next time to make up for it, guys! :)

Saturday, I had a wedding to sing at in the morning and then I went for a massage. Normally, this would be a great experience, but my usual place didn't have any openings for this Saturday, so I went to another spa.

Big mistake.

There is a crazy lady down the hall from me where I work--her name is Anita. She works in the history office. I'm truly not meaning solely to bad-mouth the lady; she authentically gives me the creeps. Not kidding. So, imagine my surprise whe I get to this other spa and find out that the masseuse looks just like her. Let's just say I couldn't relax very much.

Later, Laur and I went shopping and just hung out for a while.

Friday, I went out with some of the girls from work--went to the Cambridgeside Galleria. Didn't buy anything, but the mall is nice and the people-watching is fun and it's an environment I don't get to go to everyday.

Other than that...nothing new. Just thought I'd update this thing once in a while! If anything fun and exciting happens, I'll be sure to let y'all know.

Interview #2: results

I just received a call from the disasterous interview I had last week. Well, I shouldn't say that: the interview itself went well, the process of getting there did not go well. Read below, if you care.

A rep I had been corresponding with from the company's HR department called to tell me I was not chosen. Big shocker: I was an absolute mess upon arrival. Hardly interview material. However, she revealed to me that if they had not chosen another interviewee with very similiar experience to the job description, they would have chosen me. They were impressed and wanted me to come in to explore another job option with them. And it makes me feel good that I was the runner-up for the position I interviewed for, especially since the lady revealed to me that they had chosen about 30 people to interview.

I wonder if the others had as much trouble finding the place as I had, and subsequently looked even more pathetic than I did upon my eventual arrival. Whoa.

Anyway, I don't think I'm interested in the other job offer--just not really what I'd like to do. Too much administrative assisting, not enough writing and PR work.

But, it was super nice of them to offer.

Sooner or later.

I am depressed yet again.

I don't know what it is, other than my work situation is really bothering me and despite having friends and loved ones all around me, I feel lonely. I know that sounds crazy. I'm just a very social person and I've been somewhat anti-social lately, so I suppose I'm bringing the loneliness upon myself.

I'm sure I'll get over it. And there are times where I'm perfectly fine and dandy. I still manage to laugh, just not as often as before.

I just don't feel right. Not myself. And I've felt not completely myself off-and-on for months now. Like, I don't have the passion for things that I used to. I used to debate politics and religion and philosophy to the hilt with friends all the time--now, I just don't care. I used to go out every weekend, all weekend and just hang out with friends, watch people, eat, have a beer, catch a crappy jazz performance. Now, even if I had the money to spend, I'd much rather stay in and read or write or even watch mindless television. Music used to be such a gigantic part of my life; now I barely play the piano anymore and only sing when I have to.

I think it's just that my life isn't going as planned. I know all of you will laugh at that; I just did, too. What a ridiculous fucking concept. Someone's life going as they had actually PLANNED?!?!

But listen--it's not as if I didn't expect to hit some bumps in the road. I did. But I admittedly thought I'd be in a much different place by now. I had hoped I would be in a job I at least somewhat enjoyed. I'm not, and I'm stupidly worried about losing this one that I can't stand, solely because I need a steady and reliable paycheck every two weeks. I thought I'd be married to the man of my dreams, but that concept fell apart at least twice when the supposed "men of my dreams" let me down. I thought I'd have this awesome condo of my own and while I'm worknig on it, I'm 24 and still live with my parents (not that there's anything wrong with them or with that, I just had different ideas). I have a fair amount of money saved up, but not what I had hoped for. I do some of the extra-curricular things that used to make me happy and still do to some extent, but not like they used to.

And I'm always fucking tired. What the fuck?! There isn't any amount of sleep in the world right now that could cause me to drag my sorry ass out of bed and not feel exhausted.

Before you say it--I know things could be worse. I know people have it worse than I do and they don't complain. And I feel guilty for bitching here right now, knowing so many people have it worse, but on the other hand, I don't give a fuck...I just NEEDED to get it out on virtual paper. I needed to vent.

But I'll deal. I always do. Sooner or later, I'll be back to my old self...at least that's what I'm telling myself.

Job interview #3

On Friday, the president of a PR firm I had been interested in for a while now gave me a ring. She asked when we could set up a phone-screening.

"What about now?" I said. "Are you busy?"

She claimed she was in a teleconference with a couple of other company reps and they'd love to talk to me, too--all the while advising me not to be too nervous just because I'd be talking to three people at once.

"I'm not nervous," I assured her.

So we all chatted very non-chalantly for about an hour, and I felt very at ease. The job sounded interesting enough: basic PR work for tech-related companies. I'd be in charge of about 3 major accounts at one time. I'd get to work from home--which is great in most ways, but troublesome in others because I may have some difficulty getting motivated. Oh, well. I'd deal with it to not have to commute.

So, I finished up my casual interview thingie and got an e-mail from her right away. She was very impressed with me and wants to take me for a second dinner interview at some nice place in Brookline. Free dinner? I'm game--even if I don't get the job.

Here's hoping I don't get lost and can actually find the place. :)

Ma nam is BORAT!

OK, so I went to go see the new Borat movie with Jeff on Thursday.

Funniest. Movie. Ever. So funny that I'd actually pay to see the movie in the theatre AGAIN before I buy it when it comes on DVD in a few months.

I swear to God: I don't think there was anymore than one minute at a time where I wasn't laughing. You could barely hear the actors speaking because everyone in the theatre was laughing so hard.

Look for the Jewish Bed and Breakfast scene...holy shit. I almost urinated myself, and I'm not afraid to admit that.

So, yeah--go see it. It's worth the $9.00 ticket price (even though I didn't pay it; thanks Jeff!).

Job interview #2

I had my second job interview yesterday afternoon. It was in Boston, scheduled for 2 pm and since Mapquest said it would take 29 minutes to get there from where I work now, I, being the meticulous planner that I am and allowing for a lot of time to get lost, left work at 12:30 to get there in plenty of time.

Yeah fucking right.

I do not drive well in city settings. I'm a country girl--I fully admit that. I really, really, really get stressed driving in the city. But I decided to do so versus taking the T (which is what I usually do, or have someone else drive to wherever we're going), because I didn't want to risk being late because the T isn't running on time for one reason or another.

So, I have a combination of Mapquest directions and the directions the company rep provided me. Realizing I'm almost there, I look for the boulevard in Cambridge I'm supposed to locate; the company is right off that boulevard.

But there's no road sign for the boulevard.

I am forced to then enter Storrow Drive because I'm on a one-way street and can't turn around. For those who do not live in the Boston area, Storrow is a fucking nightmare at almost any time of the day.

And I rarely drive in Boston and don't know the city THAT well (despite living a mere half-hour away), so I'm in full-fledged panic-mode at this point.

I knew I had been on Route 28 South before, and therefore, to go back, needed to find Route 28 North. The first exit I see off of this particular point on Storrow is for Route 28 South. I take it--figuring Route 28 North can't be that far behind.

Mistake. It's all one-way roads. You know why? Because I'm on Newbury Street. That's all I know, mind you. I have no clue how to get off of Newbury Street.

This is when the tears came.

I don't cry much, but I DO cry easily when I'm frustrated. So, I'm in the car, realizing that despite leaving plenty of time for a normal person to get from Hanscom AFB to Cambridge, I have ten minutes to get to my interview for a job I actually give a shit about.

I promptly begin swearing AND crying even harder. I bang on the steering wheel with furious, closed fists. People are next to me in their cars at red lights, staring at me. It is obvious they are wondering who the crazy woman is next to them and whether they should call the police.

So, I took a nice tour through the Back Bay, the theatre district and Chinatown (how the fuck I ended up there is still a mystery).

I finally end up on 93 and realizing that my interview must be near the Cambridgeside Galleria, I park in the garage there, thinking I can walk to wherever I need to go. Keep in mind I still cannot find the place, and I'm already 10 minutes late. I ask a hotel clerk where the place is and, seeing how disheveled I am, takes pity on me and calls me "sweetie" many times while telling me where I am to go.

Thank Jesus someone knew where this God-forsaken place was.

I walk there, in the pouring rain (in my panic, do you think I would have thought to bring a fucking umbrella? Ha! No way!) so I arrive--finally--at my interview, 20 minutes late. My pants are soaking wet at the ends, partially because they were ever-so-slightly-too-long and partially from walking in some very deep puddles. My hair is drenched and I have tear stains on my face from crying.

The woman who is to interview me comes over to meet me in the reception and is thankfully very sweet. She says all interviewees are late in arriving here because they can never find the place. I emphasize whenI left work, the hell I went through to get here, and apologize profusely for being late and looking terrible because I damn well know what kind of impression that leaves on an interview. She says it's honestly no big deal at all and she really didn't even realize I was late.

The interview went as well as can be expected I suppose, considering how stressed I was. I loved the job description (a lot of event planning, which I adore) and the company sounded fantastic.

Do I think I'll get it, though? Probably not. Why?

Because nicer companies typically don't take well to soggy, teary-eyed, out-of-breath, late interviewees, despite how sweet and sympathetic their human resources people appear to be.

I think finding a decent job will be harder than I thought.

I am so screwed.

Howie.

I would just like to take this moment to say how much I love Howie Mandel.

Howie, love the new look. The jew curls just weren't doing it for you. The baldness is SMOKIN'.

I'd so marry Howie if I could. He's so hot. Seriously. Mmmmmmmmm....

Sigh.

Life's pretty boring for Karen lately. Usually I can let y'all know of something exciting that's going on, but as of recent, I got nuttin'. I can't and don't particularly want to spend any money and more often than not, fun and exciting things require some amount of money to fund them.

A little good news: the chances are looking pretty good that my contract will be extended until March. I know--it's only March--but it at least gives me time to be a little pickier about what kind of job I choose. It's nice to know I don't have to desperately accept the first place that'll have me.

I'm going to be seeing the Borat movie with Jeff on Thursday. I'm excited about that because I've heard nothing but good things about it. Apparently, it's an extremely hilarious and ridiculously politically UNcorrect movie. I like that very much. :)

As for tonight, I received some coupons in the mail for the Limited a couple of weeks ago, so I'm doing a little shopping with the girls at my favorite store. AND I have a $100 gift certificate I received last Christmas, thanks to my ex-boyfriend's parents (we broke up not two weeks later--oh well!), so I'm sure I'll be using that as well. And I still need to vote. Ugh. I hate voting. But it's my "civic duty" (my boss gave me a lecture about that this morning when I told him how much I hated voting), so I guess I need to do it. Besides, the last fucking thing Pelham needs is a new high school. Goddamned building was only built in the 70s! Like hell am I going to let you take more of my money, you money-grows-on-trees-mentality-loving bastards! (Truly, though...Pelham sucks. I can't wait to leave in a few months).

:)

So, that's it for now. Take care.

Job interview #1

So...I had a job interview today. First one since I've started applying to places.

I was greeted by a rather large and intimidating German Shepherd at the door--I could see him peering through the glass door, looking at me hungrily. So, I open the door a crack (like that would prevent this enormous creature from knocking through it and eating me anyway, pppffft!) and shakily ask the receptionist, "Is he ging to attack me?" She replies that he could only kill you by licking you to death. I walk in and realize the large monster is actually ridiculously sweet.

Point is? You're allowed to bring your freaking dog to work. I like this place already.

I'm forced to wait in the lobby and play with the dog for a little while (such a stress reliever!) while I wait for the VP to interview me. She comes over and invites me into her office. We sit and she asks me about my hobbies, family life, what my grades in school were, etc. Not typical interview questions, but I like it. I felt more at ease--like they were getting to know me.

She leaves and this is where the freakiness begins. I'm sitting there for a few minutes and this girl comes in and introduces herself as "Karen." I take a good look at her. She looks almost exactly like me. Like, this girl could be my freakin' twin. Long-ish dark brown almost black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. Same facial features. And her name's Karen to boot. Really fuckin' weird. And I thought I was exaggerating things until she mentioned that she felt as if she was looking into a mirror. We get a good laugh out of it...and then she yaps for an hour and a half about the job description she could have told me about in 10 minutes.

So, the job sounded good...very people oriented. It's for a licensing and credentialing specialist for a nursing agency. And I'd get to do some PR work, too...and help organize the yearly company trip to the Carribbean for a week and all the company parties.

Yeah, you read that right.

Company parties.

An all-inclusive trip to the Carribean.

Sign me the fuck up for this place. I'll get my lonely ass a doggie and go lay on the beach for a week for free.

They'd better call me back.

Thank you, welfare system.

The sense of entitlement of this woman is nothing short of astounding.

In 16 months she was unable to find a job to support herself and her child to the point where she can't even afford LOW-INCOME housing? And yes, I know she goes to college. Good for her. Truly. But going to college and getting two degrees in a four year period never stopped me from working almost full-time hours. There's nothing stopping her from getting a part-time job.

How HORRIBLE! The RENT-FREE housing in Roxbury is "cramped!" Here's a fucking thought: deal with it. It's RENT-FREE!!! You don't pay ANYTHING!!!

I just wanted to thank the welfare system yet again (oh, and yes--let's not forget the uber-liberals who believe people like this should be taken care of forever and ever, Amen) for taking money out of my paycheck every month to support scum like this.

Truly. Thank you.

Shelter resident balks at relocating
Refusal to leave ignites debate
By Brian R. Ballou, Globe Staff November 2, 2006

When a YWCA shelter for women in Dorchester closed yesterday, one resident decided to stay. And in holding her ground, she touched off a swarm of activity that swept politicians, housing advocates, Boston's housing court, and others into the fray.

Frankie Cook was a homeless and pregnant teenager when she found out last year about the YWCA-run, nine-unit residence catering to women in her situation. But yesterday, the brown three-decker she has called home for the past 16 months closed because of a budget shortfall. The ASWALOS House on Seaver Street is to be sold soon, organizers said.

Over the past week, six other women who lived in the house relocated to rent-free apartments in Roxbury provided by Nuestra Communidad. But Cook didn't budge, saying the alternate housing on Clarendon Street, offered to her by the YWCA, was cramped.

"I came back, and they asked me what I was doing," Cook said. "I told them I was staying, and they really didn't say anything to me."

Administrators for the YWCA and their lawyers went to Boston Housing Court, where they sought a judge's order to remove Cook and Darmarie DelValle, another single mother who lived at the house. Housing advocates, State Representative Elizabeth A. Malia, Democrat of Boston, Councilman Chuck Turner, and several community activists intervened. On the sidewalk outside the house, approximately a dozen people rallied for Cook and DelValle.

By mid afternoon, a compromise had been reached. Cook and DelValle, both 20, were offered additional storage space on Clarendon Street, and they agreed to move there.

The incident highlighted the tight funding that is squeezing programs serving low-income individuals, Malia said. ASWALOS House operated for 15 years. "This agency has a lot of financial issues," she said, standing outside the house. "The caveat here is that there are a lot of needy people and not a lot of options in Boston. Over the last four years, these programs have lost an incredible amount of funding."

Cook and DelValle said they had flourished at ASWALOS House, where the women were given chores and a curfew. DelValle earned her GED. Cook enrolled in Roxbury Community College to study nursing, making the dean's list her first semester.

Catherine Clark , the director of institutional advancement for YWCA Boston, said the programming for the displaced residents would continue at their new locations. "The sad fact is there is just not enough money to keep this place open.

© Copyright 2006 Globe Newspaper Company.

HOW INTERESTING!!!!

Hmmm...funny how Bush's grades were such a big deal during the presidental race a couple of years ago. Lookie here!!!

Yale grades portray Kerry as a lackluster student
His 4-year average on par with Bush's
By Michael Kranish, Globe Staff June 7, 2005

WASHINGTON -- During last year's presidential campaign, John F. Kerry was the candidate often portrayed as intellectual and complex, while George W. Bush was the populist who mangled his sentences.

But newly released records show that Bush and Kerry had a virtually identical grade average at Yale University four decades ago.

In 1999, The New Yorker published a transcript indicating that Bush had received a cumulative score of 77 for his first three years at Yale and a roughly similar average under a non-numerical rating system during his senior year.

Kerry, who graduated two years before Bush, got a cumulative 76 for his four years, according to a transcript that Kerry sent to the Navy when he was applying for officer training school. He received four D's in his freshman year out of 10 courses, but improved his average in later years.

The grade transcript, which Kerry has always declined to release, was included in his Navy record. During the campaign the Globe sought Kerry's naval records, but he refused to waive privacy restrictions for the full file. Late last month, Kerry gave the Navy permission to send the documents to the Globe.

Kerry appeared to be responding to critics who suspected that there might be damaging information in the file about his activities in Vietnam. The military and medical records, however, appear identical to what Kerry has already released. This marks the first time Kerry's grades have been publicly reported.

The transcript shows that Kerry's freshman-year average was 71. He scored a 61 in geology, a 63 and 68 in two history classes, and a 69 in political science. His top score was a 79, in another political science course. Another of his strongest efforts, a 77, came in French class.

Under Yale's grading system in effect at the time, grades between 90 and 100 equaled an A, 80-89 a B, 70-79 a C, 60 to 69 a D, and anything below that was a failing grade. In addition to Kerry's four D's in his freshman year, he received one D in his sophomore year. He did not fail any courses.

''I always told my Dad that D stood for distinction," Kerry said yesterday in a written response to questions, noting that he has previously acknowledged that he spent a lot of time learning to fly instead of focusing on his studies.

Kerry's weak grades came despite years of education at some of the world's most elite prep schools, ranging from Fessenden School in Massachusetts to St. Paul's School in New Hampshire.

It is noteworthy, however, that Kerry received a high honor at Yale despite his mediocre grades: He was chosen to deliver his senior class oration, a testament to his reputation as a public speaker. He delivered a speech questioning the wisdom of the Vietnam War, in which he would soon see combat.

Kerry gradually improved his grades, averaging 81 in his senior year. His highest single grade was an 89, for a political science class in his senior year. Despite his slow start, he went on to be a top student at Naval Candidate School, command a patrol boat in Vietnam, graduate from law school, and become a prosecutor, lieutenant governor, US senator, and presidential candidate.

In his Navy application, Kerry made clear that he spent much of his college time on extracurricular activities, including the Yale Political Union, the Debating Association, soccer, hockey, fencing, and membership in the elite Skull and Bones Society. Asked to describe nonschool training that qualified him for the Navy, Kerry wrote: ''A great deal of sailing -- ocean and otherwise, including some navigation. Scuba diving. Rifle. Beginning of life saving." He said his special interests were ''filming," writing, and politics, noting that the latter subject occupied 15 hours per week.

Gaddis Smith, a retired Yale history professor who taught both Kerry and Bush, said in a telephone interview that he vividly remembers Kerry as a student during the 1964-1965 school year, when Kerry would have been a junior. However, Smith said he doesn't have a specific memory about Bush.

Based on what Smith recalls teaching that year, Kerry scored a 71 and 79 in two of Smith's courses. When Smith was told those scores, he responded: ''Uh, oh. I thought he was good student. Those aren't very good grades." To put the grades in perspective, Smith said that he had a well-earned reputation for being tough, and noted that such grades would probably be about 10 points higher in a similar class today because of the impact of what he called ''grade inflation."

Bush went to Yale from 1964 to 1968; his highest grades were 88s in anthropology, history, and philosophy, according to The New Yorker article. He received one D in his four years, a 69 in astronomy. Bush has said he was a C student.

Like Kerry, Bush reportedly suffered through a difficult freshman year and then pulled his grades up.

Michael Kranish can be reached at kranish@globe.com.

© Copyright 2006 Globe Newspaper Company.