Another interesting tidbit is that many of the companies that I have applied to also have openings for web designers. It is no doubt that they are needed, as most company websites are poorly designed and not intuitive in the least. They suffer from the biggest problem that human interfaces have: the people that implement them are not the users. They are too close to their own work, cannot see the forest for the trees...
I received a returned call from an HR representative today, and I was in shock. I thanked her and explained how rude most of them are. She agreed.
Today, I have trouble, much trouble, drumming up some holiday spirit. Last night I wangled out of going to the the annual Christmas parade, considering it was colder than a well digger's behind and the parade is always the same. The only time it is different is the first time you see it, or if one of your kids are in it.
We are invited to a holiday pot luck party tonight, but I really don't want to go. I don't want to discuss the elephant in the room or try to be festive when I'm not. I think putting it aside for my wife (if she asked) would be okay, but I really have no desire to go.
The Christmas shopping season is extremely short this year and I'm not sure how I will contend, as I have no idea what to buy- nor can I justify the expense. A big thank-you to my ex-employer for making this the best holiday season ever. They expect our hard work and loyalty, but that is as far as it goes...I don't want to be called a Scrooge this year, so I will probably fake a smile and play along.
The Politically Correct 12 Days Of Christmas
On the 12th day of the Eurocentrically imposed midwinter festival, my Significant Other in a consenting adult, monogamous relationship gave to me:
TWELVE males reclaiming their inner warrior through ritual drumming,
ELEVEN pipers piping (plus the 18-member pit orchestra made up of members in good standing of the Musicians Equity Union as called for in their union contract even though they will not be asked to play a note),
TEN melanin deprived testosterone-poisoned scions of the patriarchal ruling class system leaping,
NINE persons engaged in rhythmic self-expression,
EIGHT economically disadvantaged female persons stealing milk-products from enslaved Bovine-Americans,
SEVEN endangered swans swimming on federally protected wetlands, SIX enslaved Fowl-Americans producing stolen non-human animal products,
FIVE golden symbols of culturally sanctioned enforced domestic incarceration, (NOTE: after members of the Animal Liberation Front threatened to throw red paint at my computer, the calling birds, French hens and partridge have been reintroduced to their native habitat. To avoid further Animal-American enslavement, the remaining gift package has been revised.)
FOUR hours of recorded whale songs
THREE deconstructionist poets
TWO Sierra Club calendars printed on recycled processed tree carcasses and…
ONE Spotted Owl activist chained to an old-growth pear tree.
