Sunday, 30 November 2008

happy birthday, Stevie

i'm off to London in a coupla hours to spend the evening with Stevie and friends. details tomorrow since i'm rushing my head off. above pic taken last year over here right before the Bristol leg of Alabama 3's MOR Tour.

happy birthday, Stevie: Librarian of Love. xoxoxoxox


Friday, 28 November 2008

blackest. friday. EVar

shop till you drop – it's the American way. since Thanksgiving 04, i've been copying and pasting just about the same Black Friday post on my real *sniffle* site but this year, i won't cos i'm totally gutted. hey, is there a word for feeling simultaneously enervated by mindlessly selfish people whilst you're energised by the thought of beating the crap outta them?

'A WalMart worker died after being trampled when hundreds of shoppers smashed through the doors of a Long Island store Friday morning, police and witnesses said. The 34-year-old employee, a temporary maintenance worker, tried to hold back the unruly crowds just after the Valley Stream store opened at 5 a.m.'

IT OPENED AT FIVE ON THE MORNING AFTER THANKSGIVING? 'Unbe-fuckin-lievable'... i can just see the greedy hordes queueing up after midnight, entire chubby families with bloated stomachs and turkey sandwiches crammed in the pockets of their cranberry sauce-stained khakis and phoney Burberry, sitting on fold-out chairs, all rarin-a go with their greed spurring on all that pent-up adrenaline, making them talkative which causes them to meet their neighbors; people who'll happily shove you aside, trip you up and then stomp over you if you're in their way for too long a second after the doors open. happy Thanksgiving, America.

'Witnesses said the surging throngs of shoppers knocked the man down. He fell and was stepped on. As he gasped for air, shoppers ran over and around him. "He was bum-rushed by 200 people," said Jimmy Overby, 43, a co-worker. "They took the doors off the hinges. He was trampled and killed in front of me. They took me down too... I literally had to fight people off my back."

!?! !!!!!!!111111!!!!!!!!!!!! totally disgraceful, 'Uncouth, unwashed, unclea'- rather, this is so not civilised behavior and for me, personally, living over here, it's totally humiliating especially since i learnt it from a Brit, one of my oldest friends here. my heart goes out to this dude and especially, his family cause from here on in, every Thanksgiving's gonna be totally ruined as far as they're concerned. :-( i hope i smell a lawsuit; aren't all firms supposed to ensure the safety of their employees as well as their clientele?

'The unidentified victim was rushed to an area hospital, where he was pronounced dead at 6:03 a.m., police said...'

from a comment: 'things like this are the main reason i shop online. i dont have to worry about crowds, traffic, or ignorant people fighting with me over an item. what kind of a country do we live in anyway?'

dumb question, d00d. THIS kinda country:

from another comment: 'What must the world think of us? Have we become so GREEDY that we stampede right over people just to get a sale?'

sure looks like it. anyway, next are bits from my annual Black Friday post, While Amerika Shops: 'Karl Marx would be proud of Tyler Durden’s lovely and true anti-consumerism diatribe in Fight Club:

You are not your bank account. You are not the clothes you wear. You are not the contents of your wallet. You are not your bowel cancer. You are not your grande latte. You are not the car you drive. You are not your fucking khakis… I say, let me never be complete. I say, may I never be content. I say, deliver me from Swedish furniture. I say, deliver me from clever art. I say, deliver me from clear skin and perfect teeth… I say, evolve, and let the chips fall where they may.’

Americans try to shop their way to fulfillment: ‘In this capitalist society, our function is consumption. Everyday, thousands of advertisements bombard our senses, validating our lives with a higher purpose. Whether it is an event or a product, these ads strive to convince us that our lives are incomplete without their product … Ultimately, we are all walking advertisements. We don’t have to sport name brands in order to tell the world who or what we are endorsing. Even our words and actions have become commodities.

‘In our commercial culture, each of us lives our own “Truman Show.” Our religions and belief systems are commodities endorsed by our culturally choreographed behavior. Consumerism becomes an important social mechanism connecting us to one another and, paradoxically, disconnecting us from one another … Consumption itself has become America’s primary cultural commodity. Many of us actually buy that buying is therapeutic and an essential part of this human existence. Mottos such as ‘the one who dies with the most toys wins’ and ‘shop till you drop’ epitomize our materialist paradigm.

this shit is still right on the money — Brad Pitt as Jeffrey Goines in ‘The 12 Monkeys'

There’s the television. It’s all right there, all right there. Look, listen, kneel, pray. Commercials! We’re not productive anymore. We don’t make things anymore. It’s all automated. What are we *for* then? We’re consumers, Jim… Buy a lot of stuff, you’re a good citizen. But if you don’t buy a lot of stuff, if you don’t, what are you then, I ask you? What? Mentally *ill*.

'Fact, Jim, fact — if you don’t buy things — toilet paper, new cars, computerized yo-yos, electrically-operated sexual devices, servo systems with brain-implanted headphones, screwdrivers with miniature built-in radar devices, voice-activated computers…'

Jeffrey Goines was mad but he did have a point, which brings me to the immortal words of the ‘pharmaceutically-assisted Brixton rebels,’ the Alabama 3, ‘Comrades, people of the world, we ain’t got nothing to lose but the goddamn bourgeoisie blues…’

don't forget there're only 26 more shopping days before Christmas. keep up the great work, Amerika – do your worst.


Thursday, 27 November 2008

i'm a tourist: sue me III

saw the paper and hadda take its pic for obvious reasons. with that outta the way, yesterday i was a participant in UK Biobank, 'a national medical research project to study the prevention and treatment of cancer, heart attacks, strokes, diabetes, dementia and many other serious diseases... will involve 500,000 people aged 40 - 69 from all around the UK...'

for obvious (and typically selfish) reasons, i do hope they research and cure the dementia bit first so maybe, just maybe, i've got a chance.

right, almost forgot. the other day, when in London, i made a friend whilst waiting for my coach at the Shame Train Station near Victoria. these idiots – other passengers – were like kicking at the poor thing but then s/he came up to me cause i crumbled liddle cracker bits and tossed them, trying to get Potential Friend outta the line of assholes' fire. then i thought of taking little birdie boy or grrl home but remembered Hunter would love nothing better than to feast on freshly murdered noms. i took this next when s/he was on his or her way over to visit and dine on my crumbs. people stared. i yawned (the usual).

anyway, back to last night walking home from BioBank, i acted the tourist again. hmmm... this seems to be my M.O, here cause AFAIC, it's the same as it ever was since 4. july 2004. and if y'all don't dig it? being American, i say 'sue me' cause i can't help it (nor do i wanna 'help' it). 'enthralled' neither covers it nor sums up my emotions regarding how i feel about actually and finally living here. and lemme tell you it's a surprise – even to meh – how long this joy has lasted. nb: 'joy' is NOT the proper word; 'insane delight' sums it up better. in all honesty, it's actually the best anti-anhedonia measure i've ever tried (and youse know meh: i've tried em all).

anyway, i took these next walking home (duh!). no clever comments cause i'm supposed to be working now and i've no time to think up stupid things to say for the usual cheap laugh. OK, here's my local Banksy again.

what did they say in Pulp Fiction about America and Europe? 'It's the little differences...' here's Bristol City Centre with Statue of Neptune – one of my fave mythological figures mostly cause of the Piscean elements: heavy drama and emotions, drinking and drugging. oh, and that very phallic Trident... oh wow, just remembered: ages ago, i actually saw a dildo in the shape of a trident but that's a whole 'nother story involving my GF who bought it, the fool. anyway, here's Neptune.

the rest of the photos? nothing special, just the little differences; stuff i never saw in the States which's prolly why not only do i find them charming but make me feel i'm a sponge soaking up history as i bop down the street (which street? most any street). R-click and open in new tabs for embiggenousity. as well, try to ignore the psychedelic colors lighting the building at the end for Christmas... even to me, they're crass, crude and tawdry (i.e., typically American style).

and naturally, it wouldn't be a real post of mine if there weren't a pic of My H- i mean, Stoneleigh House. i should really do a before and after but too wasted to dig up one of the hundreds of pics of this exact view taken over the last few Summers when the foliage was so dense, i couldn't see M- Stoneleigh House.

right, i've been holding back on youse (but only a bit). long story short, the Creative Director at Mane (hairdressers) is also a photographer and he entered a competition that involves choosing a chick over 40 to act as role model to other old ladies (in an 'if yer female, yer not dead if yer old' kinda way). wait... can't quit LMAO at the thought of me being ANYbody's role model. anyway, the exhibit shall be shown in London in a few months and though we began today, we'll be finishing up on monday. i'm (not) ashamed to say it's taking so long cause i wouldn't quit messing around with the dude and making him laugh (read: as usual, i refused to behave). so here i am as role model. nb: i promised to be 'good' next week (and he actually believed me):

please notice how he forced me to take my own pics. i think i drove him slightly mad this afternoon but hey, his fault for having the nerve to link my image to the words 'role model'. *snigger*

moving right along, one more thing: Happy Thanksgiving to everyone in the States.

fun fact: i was NEVER permitted to sit at the adults' table. NEVER. the grown-ups always whined about it; something about me being disruptive but i hadn't a clue what the hell they were on about so i sat with the kids every damn year. in related news, almost 13 years ago my cousin and his wife had their first son, Gus, and then a coupla years later, Natty came along. these are two of the sweetest, most intelligent, well-behaved liddle boys i've ever met. back to my point: before i left the States, i had like five Thanksgiving dinners with Gus and three with Natty.

Natty and Gus are still seeing that shrink after school on a thrice-weekly basis all due to those dinners but for all i know, it could be bullshit in a feeble attempt to guilt me out. as well, i've been told the entire holiday and the word itself – 'Thanksgiving' – will set them off. but there's two sides to every story (she said primly) and IMO my behavior was always perfectly ladylike at these fambly thingies. y'know... in a role model kinda way. *cheesey grin*

correction 1: yesterday, i ended my post with Lazybones' photo of a cute liddle creature with impeccable taste in music. i mistakenly called him Mr Rat. Lazy: '...He is a she and called Pepper and our other one is called Minty...' i torry, Miss Pepper. wait, new rool: anyone who wants to crash here when Alabama 3 play Bristol has got to prove they don't own any Eagles. and so... uh, Lazy? i think we should – wait. strike that. we shall be Having Words* before their next Bristol gig (at least Pepper knows where it's at).

*big thanks to Electric Landlady cause i'm getting a LOTTA mileage outta those. :-) and best of luck to Dave on the nonsmoking thingy. Electric, right now i kinda like feel sorry for you, actually. *whispers* but don't tell Dave – it might make him w- soz! i mean, 'it might make IT worse'.

correction 2: last week whilst making LOL Cats, i was a bit too drunk to be sitting at the 'board and mistakenly clicked the wrong button, the one inviting friends. right before my horrified eyes, everyone in my Y! addressbook was sent an invite to be mai fwend. nb: whenever i join any site (apart from Twitter), i ain't looking for friends, just wanting to use the available facilities.

as one can see on my LOL Cats profile (end of 'About Meh'), i wrote 'see the "zero friends" at R? is stawree of mai lief, akshually'. that was written way before my clicky mistake and now i'm forced to change it (with the usual caveat: if i remember).

back to my mistaken click, usually it'd be no big thang but an invite was sent to one, an American, whose behavior at mine – as my guest – was termed 'Totally disgraceful' (that last came from the not so obscure object of her desires). anyway, when i realised my fuck-up, i sent a mass mail to most everyone in my Y! addys telling of my error and requesting they picture the look on Ms Disgraceful Behavior's face when she got my invite. to quote Highlander (who was quoting who knows whom), 'Oh how we laughed'. *still sniggering at the thought of mistaken recipient's reaction*


Wednesday, 26 November 2008

what day is this, anyway?

'Is this a... what day is this anyway?' yup, that's me. thanks to the proactive always on the go, lovely Brits in the UK government whose motto can be nothing but 'muddling on through', i was called on monday to appear tod- yesterday at the UK Embassy to hasten my application for independent, setmajer-free living here. at this point in time, i'm so tired i can't see straight (this is Chris' fault, for keeping me in stitches on Twitter for the last coupla hours). i think there was an interview (but not sure) with a very straight-laced gentleman. i'm too sleepy to remember properly but i came prepared.

one of his questions had to do with there being any outstanding criminal charges against me in the States. luckily, i had the foresight to bring along this stupid liddle pieca paper issued to me (us) by the NYPD prior to us leaving for Germany way back in september 2001. it was a required thing one hadda do to live in Germany; like they're not about to admit anyone with a criminal past or pending charges. anyway, when the dude asked if i could prove there weren't any outstanding warrants or whatever against me, i pulled out my wrinkled liddle carbon copy of a carbon copy, which shut him up right quick.

then i seem to remember him asking me exactly WHY i wanted to live here as a permanent resident. who-hoooaaa... BIG mistake. that started me on an hours-long diatribe (at one point about 5 minutes in, i could see he was sorry he asked cause his eyes were like glazing over) but i was relentless, practically told him my life story of being in love with All Things British since i was a kid. at one point i wandered over to the window and had a heart attack (not feigned or heightened, one of the regular ones i have when i notice a particularly ancient and/or beautifully designed building; the kind Some People 'shush' me about, so the dude got to see the real me right before his eyes). i believe he managed to get in a coupla words here and there but i replied quite nicely and politely (and hoped it balanced out my appearance cause believe you me, i totally didn't dress up for the occasion. i just showed in my usual leather jacket, jeans and Cons. so far so good.

now it's like about 08,00 and i must get some rest. Kate's sleeping over cause it's tattoo day later on and then i get to participate in BioBank, a research project gathering health data on residents (British or otherwise, now living in the UK) to help future generations. LOL, i'm actually being active in the Community. :-)

fun-fact: i named my wonderful glorious totally in love with new iTouch, Bunny (after Ms Bunny 'I'll suck your cock for a thousand dollars. Brant can't watch or he'll have to pay a hundred' Lebowski). just sayin'. and that is all (till i remember better or get some sleep or something.

ps, extra added attraction, courtesy of Lazybones which i call 'i STILL "hate the fuckin' Eagles!"...' and Lazy calls 'Don't put that Eagles CD on!' LOL, Mr Rat is sooooo adorable with his liddle paws over his ears and if the Eagles are on, then i don't blame him (thanks, Darren).


Monday, 24 November 2008

like the Mona Lisa with eyeliner

a-TENNNN-SHUNNN! below's the nicest compliment i've gotten today (she said as if she were accustomed to people sucking up to her 24/7). this's the context: as part of my profile on Ultimate-Guitar, i uploaded above pic, one of the first ever taken on my first camera-phone. anyway, it's here.

so having nothing better to do today but puke my guts up, cough, hack, sneeze, curse, sneeze again, climb the walls (both literally and figuratively), sneeze in double and triple time, go through mountains of Kleenex in the futile belief i can keep up with the rivulets of errrr... 'mucus' pouring frub by dose, smack nasty neighbors, act as ASBO as possible (in an intelligent 'y'can't catch me' kinda way), snarl at the kitteh, imprison the damn kitteh, refuse to admit i'm impotent as far as making my mark on the TRW today, throw things at Old Age et al., i decided to make one of my very infrequent appearancees over at U-G and what do i find but this, written by Th6r6a6sH as a comment under above photo:

'No matter where I move, your eyes follow me.
'It's like the Mona Lisa.
'With eyeliner'..

i am SO preening here. :-) and whilst i'm talking about U-G, please take the time to hear me on Klan over here. and don't forget to turn it up when i start to 'sing' at the end. yup, i'm totally begging cause my attention-whoring skilz seem to have taken a hike with my brainz, common sense, what was left of my dignity et al., when this latest and heaviest flu thing first hit the other day. and to think i had Sod beat and i'd only been ill like twice in september. hah! *in an Edna Krabappel voice* feel sorry for me, people! shit! quiet bit &c &c... fukkit.

TIA *snigger* and now, back to the sofa to conjure up even moar self-pity. moar than before, even. wait... hang on... mah tummeh hurt- hey, WTF? a-gain?

*runs for bathroom* *BLEURGH!* nb: won't say if i made it in time so use yer imaginations and keep in mind the most important bit: 'i made moar work for me. real work. manual labor type work. work that includes me on my hands and knees with carpet cleaner'.

sincerely, SG/rimone xoxoxox

ps, i think i'm gonna be sick again. just sayin'. oh, how i hate the smell of sick in the mor-BLEURGH!!! crap! diddit again. *to self* i totally gotta find someone to blame this on. and i will... *evil*

in other news, when i was just down on the floor (the second time), Hunter came running over and being a curious kitty (duh!) just had to test out the steaming whatever rising from the carpet. the look on his face!:


Sunday, 23 November 2008

goddabbit, i'ze ill agin

GODDABBID! *sneezes violently* *KER-FUCKIN' CHOOEY!* oh wow, soz. *cough* OK, being fairminded people, i ask youse, duz teh following punishment fit mai itty-bitty crime (or make sense)? speshully since I'BE ILL AGAID! boo fuckin-hoo... pit-teeeeeeeee! i needz it. attenshun too but i'll settle for pit-tee today. *cough* *sneezes brainz out* *snuurrrrf* *snorkle* temp's hovering round 100F. dis not gud and maed wurser by Twitter. iz lawng stawree but seemz liek only yesterday (cuz it wuz) when i made my first mistake:

setmajer to one of his followers: 'Will never forgive @cdoussin for starting me on the iPhone crack that is Fieldrunners'.

me barging in (for the attention): '
@setmajer puh, isn't that typically you? always blaming someone else. i wash my hands of the content in your entire twit'.

me again: '@setmajer please pity me FFS? i've twitted on this since yesterday *sniffle* *cough* *stubbed dose* *incessant sneezing* temp's 101F ...'

me yet again: '@setmajer: re incessant sneezing, is that what it's like to be you at times? 'ka-CHOOOOOO! *snorkel*' goddabbid! nb: i added the 'goddabbid'

setmajer: '@slum_goddess: you'd have a better shot at pity if you hadn't twat snark just before'

me an hour later after somehow missing the above plus no expressions of sympathy or anything: '

setmajer: '
@slum_goddess FFS, I *did* reply to you; just didn't offer sympathy for yer flu 'cause you were snarky — soz'.

oh wow, Chris ... i 'twat snark?' 'I did not know that'. *to self* NOW, he tells me. i mean, rather, 'now i read that'. liek i'm supposed to read back when i can't see straight and for once, it ain't cause of teh drugs. KA-CHOOEY! (soz, ppl.) but hey, everybody: i twat snark... *preens*

*to self* 'preens' my ass. had i seen it in time, i would've totally flaunted it with a brass band and signs and shit up and down my High Street. 'twat snark': what a lovely way to put it and if i were in my right mind (and not succumbing to the Flu To End All Flus) i would've picked up on that. muchly. caution: vivid imagination kicking in... engage!

that wuz liek Springtime 2003. five years later? the troo meh of meh:

me this morning: '@setmajer but it was pretend snark! (i must be getting rilly good). *COUGHs* *SNIFFLES* *SNEEZES*'

thanks to the electronic under-the-tongue temperature thingy (thuh-MOM-metre), i'm down to like about 100F now but still, i honestly feel like drawing the covers up over my head and staying in bed with a tonne of Kleenex, a constantly brewing coffee-maker and a DVD player just for the bedroom and my books and shit and never EVar going out again. for EVar and ever and ever. wait... that's me on a normal day. OK, i shall fix that: 'speshully today'. dis how i feelz right nao.

nah, thass a lie. dis moar meh, akshually:

non-commercial advert: remember folks, y'all can help meh outta this way so-not-me morass of darkest depression and shit and back to my normal outlook of sweetness and light by numerous (and frequent) expressions of pity sent my way. needless to say, all gifts gratefully accepted. one more thing: never forget to pity the neediest and attention-whore kittehs come furst cause they'ze so needy they don't give a shit who knows it. anyway, today is meh. tomorrow? is meh too but cud be you. next day? 's meh again but Ceiling Cat maeks no distinkshun, iz up to Fait and stuff (but iz always meh furst; be good thang to member that).

KACHOOEY! COUGH! HACK! SPIT! wait, why am i pouring buckets of sweat? (no, not perspiration: disgusting manly sweat.) about the other most obvious liquid emerging, i keep telling myself 'snot snot (but in all troof, iz). gah, i'm disgusting myself; nothing new there. *cough* please good sirs, won't you spare sum pity for teh neediest? member, iz meh furst, teh rest can blog-whore or whatever and find their own sucker- i mean, let em find their own pity-mongerers, you all iz myne cuz i sed so. oh wait, before i take off to get back to Lying on the Sofa... hang on: 'Lying On The Sofa'...

whoa, where did that come from? some ADD tangent, no doubt... The Death of Chatteron to be exact... anyway, i actually do a pretty good imitation of Grrl Having the Vapours or whatever they said they had in the 1800s.i also do a totally spot-on impression of Feeling Soz For Myself complete with the endless heaving sighs, the far away look, the quiverry voice, the moisty-rimmed eyes, but worst of all, the hours of silence (many look upon this as a very good thing. i don't blame em, actually) ... this is mostly cause it ain't an impression – not acting, but total State of the Slum(p) and that's on a good day. and so, if you've made it down this far, please allow meh to permit dese two images to permeate yer headz cause they'ze both moar teh total troof. LOL, remember, pity meeeeeee!

now mebbe, just mebbe, i kin haz moar pity? PLS? KTHXBAI! *to self* wah! today i ar pity-kitteh but nobody gives a shit. must work harder on attention-whorin skilz (with the usual caveat, 'if i remember'). oops, quiet bit out loud again, goddabbid. only scuse is: i'be ill! agaid even! ill id a crool, heartless wurld. right, Hunter insists on posting his thots though i couldn't say why but if i dint permit this, he won't remove his fangs from my arm.

*snigger* soz, prior 'snigger' is totally not my doing, it kinda just rolled off my typing fingers after it reared its hostile head in my mind. said it a thousand times already but i really must remember to separate the *to self* stuff (in my inside voice) from the public shouty stuff but i keep forgetting. happy *KACHOOEY SNIFFLY COUGHY* weekend, all youse healthy *SPIT* people. nb: meh not spit on youse, just looks liek dat.


Saturday, 22 November 2008

negating last post's tone

after Motorhead tuesday night, setmajer and i found ourselves under the wing of some biker dude called John and his two friends (who very verily fucked up, drunk and possibly stoned). but BikerDude was nice and his friends kept taking hikes, leaving us three to chat. i took this sitting in whatever place was near Colston Hall where we went to drink before they shut down. then we went to an afterhours place on Park Street called Antix. i thought it boring and the music was teh suck but at least it was open. :-)

moving on to something way other, these are the views from out on the balcony over the last few days. if you look close enough you can see Cabot Tower again, finally! Endlich! :-)

LOLingest Kitteh of the day cause iz rilly meh and too klowz to kumfort not. BTW, expect to see this on a fairly frequent basis from now on cause when the shoe fits, well, i must confess that it has more frequently than i've been letting on. LOL, just sayin'.


Xenophobe's Guide to Americans

trying to forget about nasty snotty flu *cough hack spit* or whatever and in the midst of taking my mind off the countless cups of tea thrown down my throat, which so far have done nothing but burnt my tongue and propelled me to the toilet, as if on gossamer yet jet-propelled wings, to piss my damn brains out... how do the British do it?. anyway, i grabbed above titled book from my bag (iz my travelling reading; always there to gimme LOLz). OK, paging past this true-ism with no small bit of discomfort, we find our eyes – soz, i meant, i found myself riffling the damn book to find this next statement in particular then read and reread it over and over, shaking my head in total agreement cause AFAIC, backed up by years of experience whilst living in the States:

'Everyone and anyone without a job is considered a non-person'.

i mean, even when i was dealing and bigly so, my boss-man totally wouldn't permit me to work for him unless i also got a straight job, to demonstrate a visible means of support. getting back to today's job climate, especially in the States, if one manages to dig something up from whatever site or paper, consider yourself a golden kitteh cause you'll soon be on your way to pass The First Test (and the best of luck to you).

then if you're really lucky, THIS can be you and (need i say it?) ASAP cause they believe in squeezing every second of your free time in order to make em way more productive. or give the illusion of 'way more productive'. whatever.

before i took matters into my own hands and left liddle cards round Bristol in friendly shop windows and stuff, this was very unfortunately me, with nary a hope in hell for future employment (see 'unemployable'). notice expression on kitteh's face, quite similar to the look on mine when Chris returned at night and'd ask how the job-hunting was going.

or he rang me, i don't remember if it was before or after we split up. the thing of it is, unless one's hired to do something one loves and about which one feels passion, whether employed or not, it all boils down to the same old shit. moving right along: beware: the following might be you after the first day of your new Stateside gig especially if you've got an intense desire to hold on at all costs, it'll happen within the first week. Over here things are quite different; i believe the British phrase for it is 'muddling on through'.

anyway, back to Stateside gigs, if you've not got the proper attitude (e.g., you show your displaesure at being asked to work OT your very first day) or worse yet, if you've got children and/or a wife or husband all upon whom depend on your wages for sustenance, rent or mortage payments, utilities bills and mostly (&deity forbid) health insurance (in an all American 'it's better to havvit and not needit than needit and not havvit' kinda way).

and then there're all the other crucial things but let's go back to health insurance, which, in an advanced civilisation, would come gratis along with any employment. fun-fact: if one isn't winging it solo in this, the first decade of the 21st century, it might take anywhere up until a fortnight or so but believe you me, sooner or later, this is gunna be you:

soon after above level is reached, comes the Dangerous Thinking e.g., Fantasies of Quitting. try to use your Denial to your advantage by pushing it outta your minds especially if you've got famblies.

the above is an accurate depiction of The Male American wage-slave after a day or so at his new job. what's worse is, if you're unemployed in the States as well as not quite on the slim side, expect the moaning to kinda sound like this.

switch 'the bear' to 'the HR Department' and get ready for the retelling of the old diatribe that can be summed up as: 'Being overweight is a liability to the firm'. worse yet, some of the afflicted take it to further, more desperate extremes:

BTW, Xenophobe's Guide to Americans is a handy liddle hilarity-packed book (hilarious to all those not from the States, but i thought it a scream and it's available on Amazon). editor's note: they'll be more of these kinda shite nothing posts in which it's almost inpossible to understand what i'm talking about, all coming up within the next few days as long as i feel a) like shit and b) have the strength to sit here tawkin trash. temp's at 101F now. lovely. and setmajer won't reply to me on Twitter. sadist. *sulks*