I don’t know who Jon and Kate are, but they are driving me mad.  Yes, I know that I could google them and find out, but I honestly don’t care enough to do so.  Jon hates Kate, Kate hates Jon, they both hate together… who cares?  I imagine that they are some overnight celebrity couple who won fame on a game show or some reality TV nonsense, but I could be wrong.  Regardless, I would try to ignore them except they keep popping up on my Internets almost daily.  Every time I try to read up on my news, regardless of whatever web site I use, Jon and Kate jump out specifically to annoy me.  Stop it already!  Nobody (and by nobody, I mean me) cares about either one of you.  Please fade away into obscurity where you belong.

II.

I have State Farm insurance.  I’ve had them for more than 20 years, and I’ve loved the low rates and helpful agents the whole time, but for the LOVE OF GOD, fix your website!  State Farm has the most asinine security system possible, and it has once again locked me out for failing to answer stupid questions three times.  The worst part is, I KNOW I gave the correct answers to the stupid questions.  I’ve been using those SAME correct answers for a number of years now, but for some reason, this time DoucheBot didn’t like them, and subsequently locked me out.  I did possibly want to pay my bill, but I’m feeling more ambivalent to that possibility now that I have to jump through hoops to get my account reinstated.  Here’s a hint, State Farm:  Technology is supposed to make things EASIER, not more aggravating.

III.

Got into a fun little debate on Facebook today about Obama’s speech to the kiddies this morning.  I read the full text of the speech, and I applaud it heartily for its good message and its relevancy.  What annoys me are the parents that are having fits over it.  I understand that as parents, you need to know exactly the type of information your kids are being exposed to as school.  That is important, and I agree with you.  However, don’t dismiss what the President has to say simply because your own personal politics give you some sort of grudge against him.  Your kids are not your politics, and no matter how much you hate Democrats or hate Obama or hate Liberals, that doesn’t give you the excuse to use your children as a personal political shield.

The parents that are going batshit insane over this are, by and large, residents of areas that voted Conservative in the polls last November.  This isn’t me saying that either, it’s the news agencies reporting it.  What this says to me is that people are bitter about having their conservative representatives lose the election, and they see this as a way to make noise.  I’m sorry if your conservative values don’t jibe with the way our country needs to be run, but don’t deny supportive and encouraging information to your kids because of it.

Could you imagine Sarah Palin making an address to school children?  It would probably involve prayer hour and Jesus riding dinosaurs to school as a little boy.  No thanks, I’ll stick with the Liberal views this particular time.  The best thing for you upset parents to do is talk to your kids when they get home and ask them what they thought of the President and his speech.  Use this as a teachable opportunity, not a political platform for your opinions.

Why, you ask?  Well, my pool is infested.  At any given moment during any given day, it’s clogged with vile, shrieking little creatures called…um, what are they?  Er… they’re short and dirty and smell bad and sorta resemble miniature people… Children!  Yes, that’s what they’re called.  Children infest my pool.

I suppose at some point in my life I turned into that grumpy old man who hates kids.  That guy in your neighborhood whose house you tell your kids to avoid trick-or-treating to because the man that lives there will turn the hose on you or put razor blades in the apples.  In some ways, I guess I am like that.  For the most part, kids don’t bother me if they’re well-behaved and quiet.  I understand that children have no attention spans or concept of hygiene, but for the love of God why do they have to scream and shriek all the time?  Having fun playing with your friends is fine, but there’s no reason to scream repeatedly.  I was a kid once, back in the 16th century, and I don’t ever recall the need to shriek incessantly for no reason.  It defies logic.

My pool is right across the street from my place.  I can see it from my bedroom window or my balcony, and more importantly, I can hear it.  There are always people in it too, all hours of the day.  Mostly children, because unless parents are involved (which is rare), adults won’t go near it either.  It would be spectacular to spy on some bikini-clad hotties or catch some sun myself, but the little creatures have taken it over.

I hate to think about what’s in that water.

For the record, I don’t hate kids, despite what people may think.  I have many friends who have kids and they are darling and cute.  The thing that all of these darling and cute kids that I actually like have in common though, is that they are well-behaved.  Obviously, they aren’t perfect all of the time, but they know when they get out of line.  That’s how kids should be.  Attentive, quiet, and well behaved.

I think my pool should have restricted, adults-only hours.  Hours when every child under the age of 16 is taking their state-mandated, possibly chloroform-assisted nap.  Wouldn’t that be great?

So I sit here at my computer, trying to get some work done, and all I hear are kids screaming and shouting from across the road.  It’s hot and humid in my room, and a nice dip in the pool would surely feel heavenly.

Not a chance.

I hate DI. When I say DI, I mean Deseret Industries. It’s the Mormon version of Goodwill, except without the standards. In the rest of the world, when you have some ungodly piece of furniture or a lamp or some old golf clubs or something, you simply take them to the nearest Goodwill. However, sometimes Goodwill will reject the item based on its appearance or some other criteria. No one wants a couch with a nasty stain where the cat vomited in 1978 still clearly visible. No one wants the very first ever VCR with the top-load cassette mechanism and three buttons missing. Goodwill will say “nope” and make you take it away. Not so with DI. No way. You can drag any old piece of shit in there and they will gladly accept it without a word. Without a word in English, I should say, because no one that works in the drop off area speaks it. Walking into a DI is like taking a trip back to 1960. Tweed sports jackets with patches on the elbows, ancient televisions with knobs broken off, three-legged chairs, a couch with that gawd-awful floral print that looks like some kind of disease, old crusty books with pages missing, a radio from 1953, chipped and dusty picture frames (with pictures of Jesus still in them), bicycle helmets with the blood stain still apparent (not kidding), and lamps from the Lincoln administration. The only thing for sale in the place that looks relatively new and unused is the exercise equipment. Everything else is pure, absolute, junk. Just junk. DI sells nothing but junk.

I found a job on Craigslist that I’m eminently qualified for. It’s a job doing Photoshop retouching… something I can do exquisitely. I don’t mean to brag, but Photoshop is my bitch. I use it on a daily basis in my personal life, and getting a job doing that would be heavenly. Here’s the problem though: My resume sucks. All of my work experience involves mostly retail. No mention of Graphic Design or artistic endeavors at all. I can put that under “Interests” or “skills”, but I have no proof of experience or education in this area. I need to get my portfolio going again, but right now it’s not up to par. What to do? Do I send my resume as is, hoping for the benefit of the doubt, or pass up on this one and hope for another opportunity in the near future? I don’t want to embarrass myself with my stupid resume. All I need is a chance to show them what I can do. Sit me down in front of a computer and let me Photoshop something. I hate that my resume doesn’t reflect anything about what I’m good at or what I want to be. I hate my resume. It’s a pitiful document full of ordinary achievements. A complete travesty.

Oh… looks like the rain stopped. Very good.