For five years this board has existed. It has evolved, and it has regressed. I appreciate this board and it's membership more than I can articulate. You give me a place to keep the juices flowing, and have more than an occasional belly laugh. I appreciate the intelligence, and the creativity I find nowhere else. So thanks to all the members here, you know who you are, and Thanks to Forrest for starting it all.
One more time... One last time...? There will always be a last time, is this one it? So many tears...so many lies, "You looked me right in the eyes." Conniving and arranging... All the energy I've wasted, Just for the sake of the tobacco I've tasted. Not to mention the money, "Usin' my allowance...honey." Supposed to have quit four years ago, When the Doctor told me so. But I'd get weak, and the menthol I'd seek. And lie about it through the other cheek. I have to quit yet again, 'cuz I got busted yet again. What kind of mentality is that?! What's wrong with my self-defense mechanism? I mean, it was a cataclysm. Seven stints in my heart, should make me depart From a stick of heated mentholated tobacco and tar. What the f- is wrong with my head? "Go tell the kids you've done it again." I want one right now so bad I can taste it, I'm gonna take the opportunity, can't be wasted.... Ahhh...that was pretty crappy, Now I hope you're happy. No not really because now I stink, And I run to wash up in the sink. They avoid my eyes, and I hear their sighs. Pray for me my friends, I hope this is the end...
I never considered myself much of a 'dog person'. I've always had cats, and my younger years were pretty much dogless, aside from the lame-o pooches my parents had. We've had dogs over the years, it's just that my wife liked to adopt older dogs from the shelter to give them a nice last few years. They usually had health problems, (bad skin, bad teeth, which means bad smell) which didn't make me wanna get up close and personal with them.
That all changed one Sunday night at 10:00PM, a few months ago. We found a little puppy on our doorstep. Mind you we have NO neighbors. We live right off of a major California highway, and nobody lives near us. This dog was dropped off, or was gifted, and we've never know who. Anyway, we called him Gorman, because that's where he came to us, in the town of Gorman. The kids all had ideas for names of the dog, but I figured if I picked one of them, I couldn't make everyone happy. So I suggested Gorman, and it stuck.
Gorman is my joy! He's always so happy. Just LOVES to run and play, and EAT everything in sight. I never thought I could get this close to a pet, (and I've oft rolled mine eyes at you dog people!) but I gotta admit...he's a wonder. I just gave him a bath, and he's sleeping at my feet. The other thing Gorman did for us was give our 10 year old Lab (yes a rescue, put he's different) a new lease on puppyhood. I've never seen Shadow so active and playful.
Here's the two of them shortly after Gorman's arrival:
And here's him today:
I always thought my good friend crowfan was exaggerating when talking about how much Brett the Wonder Lab eats everything he gets his mouth on...my friend, I apologize, you were not exaggerating...in the least.
Make sure you have both your vet and poison control on your speed dial.
You dated yourself and didn't even get to first base.....Phantom Engineer
Great, now you've turned this into a fart thread of which there are of 20,000 too many already. --Mitchell
Crowfan: When you care enough to send the very best.---CBG
Crowfan and evil go together.---spicy
There's an old saying in Hollywood: "It's not what you know, it's who you know." There are variations, some vulgar, but you get the idea. It's been my experience that this saying holds true to the extent that, you may get the job by who you know, but if you don't know what you need to know, there's ten others willing to step over your cold dead body...but I digress..
I am currently facing an impending layoff from the television show I work on. They are doing the last of the shooting today, and we may get a week at best to strike the stage, and clean-up our equipment. That leaves about three months of waiting to find out if this turd gets picked up by the network, or flushed as it deserves to be. Anyway, I'm out a job, and that means hoping the guy I'm working for now gets off his ass and gets another show/pilot in the meantime, or waiting at home for the Local hall to call and get one day gigs, again hoping you click with a supervisor who sees you work well with others, and don't complain. Considering I just bought a house, I'd like to get a little more security than piece meal.
Which brings me back to my original point, relationships. I've been in this business 20 years come March 31, and spent 17 of those years on staff at Paramount Pictures. It was a sweet time. I worked for the Backlot Management tracking daily set construction costs for up to 7 features, and 15 television shows during the '90s. I worked my ass off, but I never had to worry about lay-offs, or shows getting canceled, or wrapping for good. I made good money, and I was part of a family. Things changed in the 21st Century, and corporations merged, and relationships faded, and I found myself having to fall back on my union membership to get work as a laborer. I've been doing that for a year now, plus the cost tracking for the set building we've been doing for this show. I spend most of my time on the accounting end, but also like the physical exertion that comes with schlepping walls around, and pushing crews.
So, yesterday, I'm at the Contract Services offices to take my forklift killing berserker safety refresher course required by the industry every three years. So who do I happen to run into but one of the guys who runs the Paramount Wood Moulding shop. I've known this guy for 10 plus years, and we get to talkin' about the "glory days" at "The Mount", when he asks what I've been doin'. So, he says, kinda half-jokingly, "I should hire you to come do my paperwork." "Are you serious?"
Yeah, he was serious. He's gonna talk to his supervisor, another guy I've known and worked with and liked for 15 years, and then get back to me. Hell, for all I know the other guy hates my guts, and never told me. If it works out, it'll mean more money, set hours, no layoffs....and $4 DVDs. So keep me in your prayers, kiddies, and I'll keep you in mine.
Post by mummifiedstalin on Jan 30, 2009 14:50:57 GMT -5
May the goddess vulvulate good vibes in your direction.
Personally, I'm 33 and still haven't technically started my career. And I'm not sure if I'll be able to. Universities are cutting back on humanities faculties all over the place. I have a friend who was offered a job, tenure-track, good school, only to have the funding for it yanked out from underneath him. So now he's adjuncting at a local community college for less money than he made on a grad student stipend (like I am). Luckily, I'm married to a woman who made sane career choices instead of "following her passion" or some other crap that stoned English and philosophy professors told me when I was in college.
I should have been an accountant so people would pay me to calculate how much debt they're still in.
"Why: 'Cuz mummi says so." -- Change B. Goode "5. Butter a midget" -- Ratso's Amazon recommendation More Ratso: post you ass ag bags! Mitchell: I also just used "mount" correctly in a sentence.