Fun for the Unemployed

Cover Letter: Dear PNC Mortgage...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Sun, 13 Mar 2011 00:31:00 +0000

Dear PNC Mortgage,

I'm very interested in the Associate Asset Manager position you're currently seeking to fill. I have a great deal of experience managing assets, as I've been managing my own for about 35 years. It all started with the pennies the crossing guard used to give me on my way to school. If my friends and I succeeded in scaring him, he'd give us pennies. So everyday, we'd hide behind a series of trees and trample right over our neighbor's Agapanthus plants in our enthusiasm for frightening an old man and everyday, he'd give us pennies. I saved them all in a piggy bank and my assets have grown steadily ever since! See? Successful asset management. (As for the Agapanthus, well, we did them a favor, really. Nobody likes Agapanthus.)

Actually, to be completely honest, in recent years, there has been some decline in my assets as a result of the massive economic downturn caused by the mortgage and banking industries. But that would be your fault, rather than mine, now wouldn't it?

Just kidding! Well, sort of... I guess that would be one of those jokes with a nugget of truth, eh? More like a boulder. Haha. LOL. Yeah, it's not actually very funny. But that's ok. I'm not the only one who owes $100,000 more for my house than it's currently worth, right?

Anyway... I believe I exceed the required qualifications you're seeking for this position. Bachelor's degree? Check. Proficiency in MS environment to include Excel and Word? Check. Plus, I know a whole bunch of other shit, which you may or may not find useful. (Please see resume for a list of other shit.)

1-3 years experience in Section 42 tax credit compliance? Well I don't have that, but I read about it and I completely understand the situation. You loan money to slumlords and I would be assisting the slumlords to make sure they continue to meet the requirements for tax evasion. Oops, I mean incentives. (That will probably happen a lot.) I would very much enjoy working with slumlords. I've always been curious about that sort of person and it would provide me with an opportunity for psychological insight.

I don't actually have any banking experience, but I'm sure you don't actually require a great deal of expertise, as PNC is, in fact, my mortgage holder and I have previously dealt with more than a dozen of your employees. After a year of unsuccessfully attempting to obtain a rate reduction and being given the run-around by every single last person I ever spoke with at PNC, I have no doubt that not only does PNC hire people who lack expertise, but that incompetence is actually mandatory. In fact, I might be a little too competent for this position, but I promise that if you hire me, I will work hard to achieve, uphold and maintain PNC's level of ineptitude. And I'll do so with an attitude. Hey, that could be your new slogan! "Ineptitude with attitude." Look at me- I'm working for you already!

Best Regards,
Anna Nimus

PS- As an employee, would I eligible for a mortgage rate reduction?

Dear Patrick James...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 14:26:00 +0000

Dear Patrick James Store,

I recently came across your store for the first time and was pleasantly surprised to to learn that a clothing store existed as an ode to the late great Patrick James. However, I thought I'd take the time to offer you some suggestions, as the clothing you carry does not accurately portray Patrick James's image.

I think it would be great if you started a new clothing line which might consist of clothing with more sequins and man-made fabrics. It should definitely include spandex pants, as the 80's styles are so hip right now and Patrick James was fond of wearing spandex. If you refer to the "Super Freak" video, you might find some design inspiration in his sparkly open-chest shirt and knee-high boots.

It's tough to find knee-high boots in men's sizes. You could have a monopoly on your hands if you carried these! Maybe you could also include a special occasion selection of white suits with shimmery dress shirts? And don't forget- you'll need to offer customers the option of accessorizing with large clunky jewelry.

You know what also might be kind of fun? If you started a line of women's clothes called "Kinky Girl". Patrick James would be so proud! You could almost hear him singing "She's a very kinky girl...the kind you don't bring home to mother..." You could sell tube tops with matching elbow-length gloves, spandex animal print mini-skirts... You know- stuff hookers wore in the 80's.

You should also carry some of that body glitter stuff. Nothing goes better with freaky sex attire than sparkly skin!

I hope I'm not offending you with my clothing design suggestions. It's just that the clothes you are currently selling don't really honor Patrick James's memory. They're really more suitable for middle-aged financial manager types to wear on their golf days.

Regards,
Anna Nimus

Dear Mentor Judy (SPAMMER)...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 17:24:00 +0000

This morning I received notification that the following two comments were posted in response to one of my anti-spammer blog posts:

"Anonymous said...: Who knows where to download [never mind- product name]?
Help, please. All recommend this program to effectively advertise on the Internet, this is the best program!
Judy [lastname] said...: Just do a Google search for [product name] and take your pick."

Isn't that cute? How she pretended to be one person asking about this malicious product and then answered the fake other person as herself? Two spam comments for the price of one!

Dear Ms. Judy [lastname];

I'm writing you today to thank you for the thoughtful comments you left on my blog post, "Dear James Randall (Scam Spammer)". Well, it wasn't so much a thoughtful comment as it was a completely unrelated and unwelcome comment advertising a malicious product. But thank you anyway.

I see from your profile on Blogger that the bible is one of your favorite books. Right on. Have you heard- they're talking about adding some new commandments to sort of keep up with technology and modern times? The proposed 11th commandment is "Though shalt not spam." What do you think of that? You think spamming is a sin? Maybe a just a little... Not as bad as adultery, but certainly worse than coveting. Do you think Jesus frowns on spam? (Sometimes it's hard to tell when he's frowning because he has that thick beard.)

In case you don't recall, the particular blog post in which you left your comment was written in response to a spam email I received. It is contained in an entire section of my blog in which I mess with spammers. You know what spam is, don'tcha Judy? Now I looked into the product you mentioned in your comment- this product that is so great you are willing to engage in illegal behavior for it. And it appears to be a program that allows spammers to quickly and easily generate spam.

Just so I have this straight... You (a spammer) left a spam comment on an anti-spammer blog post for a spam-enabling product. Wow, that's an outrage wrapped in irony. (It could actually be a double irony but I don't think you're that clever.) You have some juevos grandos Judy Nuber! That's espanol for 'big balls'. (Actually it's 'big eggs' because I couldn't think of the Spanish word for balls. But whatever- you get the idea.)

May I suggest that in the future, if you're going to continue this practice, you may want to engage in your illegal behavior anonymously. The way you've done it here, we can all link right to your Blogger profile and read all about how you want to "be the best me I can be" and that you believe "if you can think it, you can achieve it!" How inspiring.

So when you were a little girl did you dream about growing up to be a scam artist, oops I mean, "Network Marketer"? You closed your eyes and envisioned this as your life's calling? Really? You said to yourself, "Dagnabbit, I choose to contribute to society and to my fellow man by barraging them with unwanted messages about unwanted products and make money by stealing time, space and attention that rightly belong to other people? I don't want to cure cancer or feed the hungry or teach children to read... I want to irritate people and be a public nuisance!" Lofty goals, Judy.

Well we can't all do meaningful work. If there were no bad guys, the good guys wouldn't seem so good, right? In case you're interested, this is what the Washington Post thinks of your product.

Good Day,
Anna Nimus

11/14/09: Follow-up: Judy posted an apology for her spam comment. Therefore in appreciation for her apology, I will remove her last name from this post.

Fun with Re-training (Part Two)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 19:29:00 +0000

So I'm sitting there today in my (very disappointing because the teacher and book kinda suck) Dreamweaver class and I'm trying to spend the last hour of class time working my way through the textbook exercises because that's what we were supposed to be doing. But I was having some difficulty concentrating because the friggin' idiot kid sitting directly behind me spent the entire hour-long work period chat-chat-chat-chat-chatting. Just shooting the shit with the guy next to him. Like he was in a bar or on a bus or something. He even had the audacity at one point to express his frustration at not being able to keep up with all of his homework... ?!!! @#!*&!???

In my next life, I would very much like to be sort of person who can calmly and without fear, ask someone to shut the fuck up. In this life, I've been relegated to being the type of person who rolls their eyes out of view of the person I'm rolling my eyes at and taking big, dramatic frustration breaths. But really, isn't that a clear enough signal?

One more little thing while I'm at it (with my hormones on fire and everything), if you are a member of the trailer park heathen family who attended Star Wars in Concert last night and who proceeded to talk through the live SYMPHONY performance and who let your child use his OUTSIDE voice throughout the entire performance, I hate you. Please don't leave the park again until you learn how behave properly outside of your living room. I swear, we seriously need a national manners lesson.

Fun with Re-training (Part One)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 14:25:00 +0000

It was with a considerable amount of trepidation that I decided to go back to school. This was for several reasons. Firstly, I already have a f'n degree and honestly, it's not doing me much good. PLUS, I'm still paying for it. PLUS, I worked really hard to get it and it pisses me off that no one appreciates it. I mean please. I can dance Riverdance and plee-ay around the folks with Communications degrees. No offense to those of you with Communications degrees, but really, you chose it because it was easy, yes? Smart move. Killing yourself to get through Chemistry classes will get you nowhere. But taking an interpersonal communication class is apparently worth something in the job market. A class where you practice talking to each other. Hmph. You know what? We communicated interpersonally quite well in my Chemistry study group. Science majors can communicate AND do other stuff too.

Oh, I feel myself moving into my angry place and veering off into an unrelated tirade. Sorry about that.

Back to my point. Trepidation. So I felt like I shouldn't have to. But clearly I needed to something differently. You can't keep doing the same thing and expect different results right? Yeah, yeah... Fine.

So I did a little research and looked at my training options. And here's a golden bit of info that may help some of you. My state (and maybe yours too) is getting funds from the federal government to provide training grants to dislocated workers. And qualifying for dislocated worker status is MUCH easier than qualifying for unemployment. Basically the criteria in my state was: do I have a job (no) and do I want a job (yes) and am I having trouble finding a job (yes)? There you go, I am dislocated. (This explains my existential crisis.)

Now you don't get much money, so don't get all excited and think you can go back and get your MFA on the Fed's dime. It's really only enough to take some community college classes (which was another source of trepidation for me). But hey, a lot of community colleges have excellent vocational training nowadays. And they're a lot cheaper than those over-priced, poorly-regarded schools that advertise on TV. (Get in, get out, get ahead? More like: get in, get out, get in debt!)

So here I am. Back in community college. What is wrong with this picture? #1: Community college is supposed to come before real college, not after. And #2: Oh yes... My gray hair. Gray hair is a dead give-away that you're a middle-aged student. And FYI, if you want to blend, the kids nowadays wear their backpacks on both shoulders. This is requiring a mental re-adjustment on my part because back in the day, the dorkiest thing you could do was wear your backpack on both shoulders. Isn't that ridiculous? That using an object in its intended manner makes you uncool. This same phenomena was applied to pants later on in the 90's. Remember when the pant waist was worn, not around the waist, but rather above the knees? Friggin' ridiculous. I don't know what silly thing is going on now but I'm sure it will reveal itself in the coming weeks.

There I was on my first day, feeling both out of place and yet subtly superior. Like a childless MILF with freshly dyed hair and super cute new blue jeans. I found a parking space and it was only about a mile away. Luckily, it was breezy enough that the sweat from my hot flash combined with the sweat from the exertion of my one mile hike evaporated before I got all drippy.

So I'm walking along to my class, wearing my backpack over both shoulders and all of my hair is uniformly brown... Sure, some of them are short and wiry and sticking straight out (hard lesson learned: don't pluck the gray!), but they're brown and that's the important thing. And so what if I'm pushing 40 and I'm taking community college classes? It's OK. They can't tell. Or can they? As I glanced at faces, I did see an array of ages. Sort of. There were definitely a few fogies in the bunch. But since when did children start going to college? There sure were a lot of children. Not little children, but like, kids. Scrawny, geeky, pimply-faced, green behind the ears kids with exceedingly self-conscious postures. Did they hold driver training classes here or something? Fuck, I can't pass for THAT. I have crows feet. OK, that's OK, I thought. I am a MILF. (Well, actually just an ILF.) And (I said to them in my head), I am older than you, wiser than you, smarter than you and if I whip my junk-in-the-trunk ass from side to side, I can knock you over in a heartbeat. So move.

After the mile-long hike and self-administered pep talk, I found my class. There I was, in the right room at the right time, fully dressed and everything. Not at all like my first day of school nightmare.

The instructor spent the class time going through the syllabus and course requirements. And on at least six occasions, she was interrupted. You know how every class has one of those people? Those people who feel the need to interject their personal tidbits during class time? Mix one part suck up with one part attention-seeking and you get one of those people. And oh lucky day, this particular class had a statistically improbable amount of those people- like four of 'em! So needless to say, the first class took longer than it should have. Just as the instructor was nearing the end of the syllabus explanation and I thought we were finally going to make it through and I could see the light at the end of tunnel... So close...Arghgh. Fleshy-faced, four eyes kid raises his hand, "I know a lot of the Adobe programs because I was the high school yearbook editor last year." FML.

Fun with Corporations: Dear DSW...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 19:14:00 +0000

Dear DSW,

I just came home from shopping at one your stores and I'd like to give you some feedback regarding my visit. Overall, it was a positive shopping experience. I even had someone say "good morning" to me, which was a pleasant surprise since DSW is really more of a self-service shopping environment. Of course, so is Walmart and even they have a greeter. So never mind. I guess it wasn't so much of a surprise. But it was pleasant nonetheless. ("Good morning to you too, Shoe Stacker Person!")

I like how you have the shoes organized into style groups. It saves me from doing a lot of walking by having all the ridiculous stilettos together up in the first 4 rows. Honestly, just looking at stilettos makes me angry. So I try to stay away from them.

When I'd found what I needed and brought my purchase to the front, the woman at the register was friendly and courteous. In fact that's why I'm writing today. Because, as we were finishing up and she was handing me my receipt, she said, "Enjoy!" ... Not "bye, come again". Nor "thanks, have a nice day!" Enjoy. This struck me as kind of funny. In fact, I almost giggled. Enjoy. Huh, I thought as I walked to my car. Maybe that's my problem in life. Maybe I need to learn how to get more enjoyment out of my shoes. Do other people enjoy their shoes? Maybe the true secret to happiness is as simple as shoe enjoyment. What kind of shoes is the Dalai Lama wearing, I wonder?

It's not that I'm completely devoid of the concept of shoe enjoyment. I was young once. I have owned fabulous shoes ('Look at me' shoes, and even 'fuck me' shoes). But I didn't purchase stripper shoes today. Nothing colorful or shiny or furry or sparkly. In fact, nothing with even the slightest heel. I purchased practical, comfortable, black flats with arch support. (Not my idea of party shoes.)

So I don't know if I will actually enjoy my shoes. I suppose I will enjoy the comfort they will bring me. Although, even that is not something I'm likely to enjoy. It's one of those things that doesn't work unless it's the other way around. I would not enjoy the discomfort of painful shoes. But I tend not to actually enjoy comfort. Comfort is like health, I guess. You sort of take it for granted until you have discomfort.

But you know, I did enjoy contemplating the concept of shoe enjoyment and that is something, right? So, thanks.

Enjoy,
Anna Nimus

PS- Can I have a coupon?

Try a New Food Tuesday: Spotted Dick

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 14:48:00 +0000

Don't worry. I'm still here. I have not yet found a job to take me away from my unemployment blog. I'm still being distracted by summertime activities. Hey, if you're going to be unemployed, summer is the time to do it, right? When else can you slip-n-slide your way head first into a patch of fresh strawberries? Or stroll barefoot through fields of fruit trees, 'u-pick'ing to your heart's content? Or take an urban hike from one blackberry bush infested empty lot to another, collecting shitloads of free berries for dessert? Some days I feel like a cast member of Petticoat Junction, y'all.

In my travels (ha), a little something has piqued my interest and curiousity every time I've encountered it on the shelf of my local Cost Plus World Market. (Am I dating myself calling it that? Is it just "World Market" now? I remember when it was just "Cost Plus" and it was THE source for cheap, imported
'china flats' (shoes) and big, dangly silver earrings. But I digress. [And in case you're thinking I must be making a lot of money through the Amazon affiliate program, as much as I would like that to be the case, I have not made a penny. You unemployed people are not good consumers. Oooooh... a double digression. And a burn.])

Anyways... The thing I keep encountering is (you guessed it), Spotted Dick. It's a British cake. And it comes in a can. And I giggle a little bit every time. And were it not priced exhorbitantly ($5-6!), I would have bought some a long time ago. Like maybe if it was $3. But being the frugal and enterprising girl that I am, I thought I'd just make my own Spotted Dick. Because I'm quite certain that a fresh Spotted Dick must be tastier than a canned one. Mmmm. Hand job, oops, I mean hand made Spotted Dick.

(Sorry- I couldn't help myself. I have to amuse myself somehow.) So here we go. The recipe is HERE. I was a little scared to google "Spotted Dick", but I needn't fear. Epicurious even has a photo and if you click on the link, you'll see it doesn't look like a dick at all. But if you manage to find a ceramic dick-shaped souffle dish, you could actually make a Spotted Dick that looks like a dick if you'd like. Good luck with that. They do make metal "pecker cake" pans in a variety of styles (yes they do), which are available through bachelorette party supply web sites. However, a true Spotted Dick needs to be steamed and I'm not certain you can accomplish that properly with a metal pan. You don't want your Spotted Dick to get rusty.

Finally, don't forget the sauce. No proper Spotted Dick is complete unless it is served in the traditional manner with a white custard sauce dribbled over it. Swear to god. I'm not making this stuff up. And people say the British are stiff. ('Scuse the pun.)

********************
Later that day...

First off, I'll say thumbs up. Spotted Dick is super tasty. And my husband loved it too! I will give you a little hint about assembling your homemade steamer apparatus. Keep in mind that you'll have to get the inner dish out of the larger pot in the presence of boiling water. I put a small souffle dish inside a metal double boiler bowl, which had a lip (for easier handling), and then put them on top of a circular grater thing that came with my pots in order to elevate them off the bottom. This would have worked out well if the large pot had been larger or slightly more shallow, but as it was, I had a heck of a time getting the inner bowl/dish out of the pot. Also, it's OK if you don't have parchment paper. I covered mine with foil (sprayed with Pam) and it worked fine. Other than that, it was easy to make. And I was pleasantly surprised when the Spotted Dick rose up out of my pan. Who knew you could steam a cake?!

In case you're wondering what that sad clumpy stuff in the last photo is, that would me my custard gone wrong. I couldn't find custard powder at the store so I made my own custard from scratch. Just in case you're thinking you can make custard from scratch without no stinkin' candy thermometer, you would be wrong. (Luckily I only made a half recipe.) Here's another little hint. By the time the custard gets to a custard-like consistency at which point you remove it from the stove, it's too late. It is already too hot and thick and will get chunky on you. Remove it from the heat at the very first sign of thickening. The very first sign. Immediately when you notice it's gone from watering to soupy. Or follow the directions and use a thermometer.

Things to Do: Make Fruit-Infused Moonshine

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 14:18:00 +0000

Well, I must apologize. It's been some time since my last post. Summertime activities have been keeping me busy, busy, busy. The garden I started a few months back has been producing prolifically and I've been blanching and freezing and pickling and baking... I don't can anything because I harbor a healthy phobia of death by botulism. But that's just me. You go right ahead and indulge.

Before I forget, I would like to welcome my two new followers- hello! We're now a healthy, book club sized group of eight (if you include me). Oooh, we're like a little gang now. An unemployed, slightly bitter, but still fun-loving and slightly naughty gang armed with resumes and poised to pop into our power suits at a moment's notice, should someone call us for an interview. Shall we practice rolling our eyes in unison for when a newscaster states we're now in a post-recession economic upswing?

But I digress. The purpose of today's post is to inspire yet another new creative endeavor. Now I'm not going to actually instruct you on how to make moonshine because I believe it's technically illegal and there are some safety issues involved in running a still. But if you absolutely must make yours completely from scratch, here are some sites with information:

Moonshine (Wikipedia)

White-Collar Moonshine (The Urban Gourmet Gets Into Distilling)

Home Distillation- A Step by Step Guide

How-to-make-a-still

How to Make Moonshine

Now, if you have a source for obtaining locally produced moonshine, consider yourself very fortunate. But if you don't, you can simply purchase store-bought vodka or grappa (depending on your current standard of living). You can even use gin, rum or tequila. You'll also need some nice clean glass containers for your creations. I suggest you choose something pretty because you'll be showing these babies off to friends and family.

Finally, you'll need to decide what sort of fruit to use for your infusions. You don't need a ton, as the fruit will be sitting in there for several weeks. If you want to keep it in there permanently, you'll use even less. (Ofcourse, there are also a number of recipes for quickie, 24-hour results, but that's no fun.) There are basically two ways to make a fruit-infused alcohol- you can add a bit more fruit and strain everything out after several weeks (or days or months), OR you use less and just leave it in there. Personally, I generally prefer the latter for aesthetic purposes, but then it depends on the type of fruit you choose. Some fruit will hold its shape better and result in less floaty bits. I come from a home-grown / moonshine sort of background, so I'm OK with floaty bits in my beverages, but I understand that some people are more particular.

Another option for your concoction is the addition of simple syrup to add sweetness to your infusion. And of course, you are not limited to just using fruit- you can also use herbs and spices. You can even combine herbs or spices with fruit for a virtually unlimited number of binge-drinking possibilities. Isn't this fun!?

Need cheap Christmas or Hunukkah gifts? Fruit-infused alcohol makes a great gift! People appreciate homemade gifts because they're more unique and thoughtful. And imagine how appreciative they'll be when you tell them your homemade gifts were made way back in the summertime with fruit you stole, oops, I mean, hand-picked fresh from your neighbor's tree yourself. They'll be thrilled! (Unless they're assholes, in which case they'll just think you're cheap, but if that's the case, who cares what they think because they're assholes.)

Here are some web sites with instructions for creating your infusions (no need in me wasting my breath repeating, right?):

Infusion Techniques

Infuse Your Booze

Alcohol-Preserved Fruit (in this case the focus is on the fruit, rather than the alcohol)

Keep in mind that infusing alcohol with fruit is not rocket science. It's tough to do wrong. The results may or may not be good- it depends on what you've done, but that's the fun of experimentation. Keep track of how you made each creation, so you know what works and what doesn't for the future. And if it tastes like ass, trust your instincts and just don't drink it.

(Photos of my own infusions are on the way!)

Things to Do: Selling Conceptual Art on eBay (Part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 06 Jul 2009 21:34:00 +0000

I am having one of those creative days when you have lots of ideas in the shower. (Do you have those too?) So today I decided to revisit an old topic which I'm not quite done with yet. In case you weren't following my blog at the time, I previously did a post where I instructed you how to create and sell your conceptual art on eBay and then I did my own conceptual art piece and wrote a post on that as well. In case you're wondering, "dinner without chagall" is still available.

And below is my newest piece, "Ode to Schizophrenics, Existentialists and Surrealists", which is now available on eBay with a starting bid of just 5 cents. (This is a very good deal.) You can hardly buy anything for 5 cents anymore. You can't even buy one cherry at the grocery store for 5 cents. Actually, that might be kind of fun. Maybe I'll do that tomorrow.

"Ode to Schizophrenics, Existentialists, and Surrealists"

Description/Statement:

Was it Sartre who said that all consciousness is self-consciousness? Or was it Nietzche? Ah well, that's OK. Who really cares what Sartre said? Or Nietzche, for that matter. What's really important is what is going on between Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.

What we have here, up for auction today, is my latest conceptual art piece. It measures approximately 7.5 x 8 inches and is 1/4 inch thick. The vast difference between a HUGE title and such a small piece lends itself to the meaning, I think. It's inherent meaning is actually meaningless, but I suppose you gathered that from my reference to the existentialists, yes? My intention, with this piece, is to turn self-consciousness inwards towards the self, rather than toward what is unilaterally referred to as that which resides outside ourselves- for example, a bird or a twinkie.

My use of glitter captures the essence of this message in a manner that, I believe, no other visual effect can. Because glitter is sparkly and scatters light particles, you see. ('Scuse the pun.) And the eyes, being the window to the soul, allow the sight of that which is external, but internally realized. It's a fantastical connection between the internal and external! And the viewer is left to ponder the concept of something that is blatantly external representing the consciousness of the self, which is internal. Confounding!

This piece will require a bit of interaction, as you MUST yell at it twice a day, everyday, until it yells back. When you are not yelling at it, it should hang on your wall in such a location where the little chick might watch your daily comings and goings. Lest she grow bored and peck out your eyeballs at night while you're sleeping. Peck. Peck. Peck.

Heckle. Freckle. Heehee!!!

I always feel like somebody's watching me... Doe, ray, me. Me, me, me...

You.

Lalalalalalala. I am not listening to you. Pickle.

Of course you don't need to bring it on vacation with you, as fine art does not travel well and Customs Officers tend to be unwieldy when it comes to foreign meats, cheeses and conceptual artwork. Simply resume your daily verbal abuse upon your return.

PS- I like pond scum.

Fricasseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!

Dear Injection Mould Maker...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Tue, 30 Jun 2009 00:49:00 +0000

Here's a fun little quickie. Got this in my inbox today. I can't fathom why, except that she seems to think I'm a buyer. And distinguished. Ha. (But just for that, I will leave off some of her contact info.) Here it is:

Dear Distinguished Purchaser:

Greetings from Golden Guide industry(HK) Co., Ltd, we're a mould maker for injection mould making and plastic moulding in China.

Golden Guide industry(HK) Co., Ltd established in 1986, ISO 9001:2000 certified, we has been engaged in investigating, deleloping, manufacturing and distributing in injection mould making. during 23 years of exporting, we gained a good reputation among our valued customers overseas for the Value, reliability, quality, competitive pricing, guaranteed fast delivery and satisfying after service.

Will you please take a few minutes to go through my website http://www.goldenguide-mould.com/ to get a general info. about my products, if any mould attracts your eyeballs, please do contact with me.

Your earliest feedback will highly appreciated.

Best regards,

Julia Ju
Sales Manager

Website: http://www.goldenguide-mould.com/index.asp
http://www.globalsources.com/ggmould.co

So then I said:

Dear Julia,

Thank goodness you contacted me when you did. You see, one of your moulds did, in fact, attract my eyeballs and now I'm stuck. It's rather painful. I'm hoping that by doing contact with you I will be freed from my predicament, as my mould-attracted eyeball is deleloping into a serious problem.

Your friend,
Anna Nimus

Dear UGA (Re: Scam / Spam Sales Job Offer)...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Sun, 14 Jun 2009 15:20:00 +0000

Ooooh... Look what I got this morning. Another scam/spam job offer email. I believe I'm batting 0-15 for legitimate offers vs. scam job offers as a result of my public resume on Careerbuilder and Monster.

----- Original Message -----
From: "Jim [last name]" <[nevermind]@ugadivision.com>

[my name],

I have reviewed your resume and think that you'd be a good fit for a sales/sales management position we have available near [my town].

Based on your resume and income requirements I think you may be a viable candidate.

I'd like to learn more about your experience and answer any questions you may have about the position. I'd like you to come in for an interview this week at our office.

Please give me a call between 10-2pm Monday [xxx-xxx]-5260 to discuss.

Sincerely,
Jim

James [last name]
Division Manager
UGA
xxx.xxx.5260 Tel
xxx.xxx.1158 Toll Free
xxx.xxx.5265 Fax

So then I said:

Jim,

How's it going? Thanks for the email. As you can imagine I'm a bit hesitant to respond, as I've received nothing but scams, spam and salary-less insurance sales position offers since I posted my resume publicly on Careerbuilder and Monster.

I'm not completely opposed to sales. In fact, at one time I tried very hard to get into pharmaceutical sales. (Not because I approve of industry practices, but because of the lucrative nature of the industry.) However, pharmaceutical companies are really big on hiring people who have achieved proven, documented sales goals. So they won't hire me... Because I haven't met any sales goals. In fact, I spent 3 years trying to run my own business and failed miserably. But maybe I didn't do well because I cared too much about my "products", you know? I was too close. Perhaps if I sell something I don't care about and don't know anything about, I might fare better?

And obviously you recognized my potential talents by reviewing my resume. Otherwise, you wouldn't have contacted me. Surely with your experience you are able to weed out those who would excel in sales capacity from those who would not!

Now, which UGA is it you represent and what would I be selling exactly, because there are several institutions represented by this acronym (apparently) and you didn't include a web site link? My assumption is that you do not represent the University of Georgia since we are not in Georgia and nowhere near Georgia.

There is also the United Golf Association, the Utah Golf Association, or the US Golf Association (USGA), any of which might be fun to work for. I don't know a thing about golf, but I'm pretty good at playing pool and a golf course is really just a much larger version of a pool table. Different crowd, of course. And the attire differs a bit too, I imagine. But I'd certainly be willing to trade in my Vegas cocktail dresses for plaid pants and polo shirts. Will I also have to give up the cigars and martinis?

There is also this UGA company that sells insurance products:
http://www.ugaonline.com/

Is that who you represent? Because I hate to tell you this, but there is some very bad PR surrounding this company. Is it true that the commissions your commission-only salespeople earn for the first few years are legally regarded under their employment contracts as loans and if they leave in the first few years, they have to pay their "earnings" back to you? And if they don't pay, their "debt" is sent to collections and their credit ratings are destroyed? Here's what some people are saying:

http://www.reviewopedia.com/uga-corp.htm

To be fair, I also reviewed the information on the official UGA web site. Now just to clarify, is this UGA insurance sales company affiliated with the UGA golf association at all because all of the people in your "success stories" section appear to be on a golf course. Or did you do that on purpose because people on golf courses wearing polo style shirts look more successful than people in offices wearing business suits? And people think that business suit-wearing office people are the subservient schmucks who serve the ultra-successful polo shirt-wearing, golf-playing guys who are so successful they don't need to be in the office and can conduct all of their business over a leisurely golf games with other ultra-successful polo shirt-wearing guys.

Are you, in fact, one of these ultra-successful polo shirt-wearing, golf-playing guys? Because many of them are actually named Jim, Bill or Bob.

I must admit, after reading the success stories, I am moved. I think more large, reputable, national companies should share employee success stories that mimic the down and out, life-altering "found god" stories touted by born-again Christian religious institutions and 12-step groups. It doesn't make me at all suspicious that a company would have to use such hard sell tactics to attract sales people. Or that you seem to target down and out people rather than successful sales professionals. And I think it's perfectly normal for someone's job to become a veritable calling. Especially in something as meaningful and fulfilling as insurance sales.

I look forward to learning more about this opportunity in a large group presentation. Oops, I mean interview.

Regards,
Anna Nimus

PS- I will attach a copy of my resume.

Things to Do: Rediscover the library

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 08 Jun 2009 15:44:00 +0000

Now that you can no longer afford to buy books and you have all this time on your hands, it would behoove you to rediscover your local library. Now, if it's a been a while since you've been to a library, I should warn you of some recent developments. They no longer have card catalogs. (GASP!) I know- I miss them too. Remember how the mini drawers would pull out and you'd take the whole drawer to a nearby counter so you wouldn't be in the way and other people could access the drawers they needed, but occasionally someone wouldn't take their drawer elsewhere and just stand there looking through it, basically hogging the entire D-F section of the card catalog? That was so annoying. I guess it's too late for me to complain about card catalog etiquette. That ship has long since sailed. Along with TV antennas and record players and Eight is Enough re-runs. Also, you should know that a lot of libraries are no longer utilizing the Dewey Decimal System. WTF?! I know. The new system totally sucks.

I LOVED the library when I was a kid. We had a huge, old, 3-story, multi-winged house that was turned into a library. We'd go there specifically to play hide and seek because we weren't supposed to and it added a whole extra element of danger to the game. The trick was to play the game with a certain subtlety to avoid being caught and kicked out by the librarians. So much fun, being a naughty kid. I didn't always go there to cause trouble though. Sometimes I would hang out in the basement and leaf through really old Seventeen magazines. Or I'd get all obsessed with some topic and check out a giant stack of books about, say, chimpanzees. Or UFO abductions.

Guess what else has changed? They have movies! Shitloads of DVD's you can check out for free. And music CD's! And books on tape... And I just found out that my local library offers what are called "cultural passes" to local residents and library patrons. You can check out a cultural pass for the day and get into local attractions for free. Museums and gardens and historical locations that usually charge an entry fee. Score! I love the library!

Things to do:
- Greatly expand your music library for free (this may, technically, be construed as stealing).
- Borrow classic flicks and host a movie marathon.
- Genealogical research (Most libraries subscribe to Ancestry.com, which would cost you a monthly fee to use from home.)
- Join a book club to meet other bored people.
- Check out books to learn stuff, gain skills, and expand your horizons.

- Ask the librarians to look at newspaper archives on microfilm and watch them get all flustered because you're the first person to ask to use the microfilms since 1986.

Dear Farmers Insurance Recruiter / Spammer...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 20:18:00 +0000

I swear, one of these days I'm going to make my resume private/non-searchable on Careerbuilder and Monster... Does anyone else keep getting these emails from Insurance recruiters?

"Dear [my real name],

Your background and experience brought your resume on Career Builder to our attention. We would like to discuss a Farmers opportunity with you.

We offer extensive training, exceptional earning potential, 2 years of financial assistance, ownership equity and the ability to pass your agency interest to an immediate family member.

If being your own boss but having the backing and support of a huge corporation is of interest to you, please contact us. We would love the opportunity to discuss your opportunities further.

Best regards,

Katy [never mind]
Recruiting Manager
[phone number removed]

DISCLAIMER
Please be aware that the content of this email has not been reviewed or approved by CareerBuilder and is in no way endorsed by CareerBuilder. You are solely responsible for any response you choose to provide to this email and you do so at your own risk. If you have questions regarding the legitimacy of the position being offered please contact the CareerBuilder Trust and Site Security Team by submitting your inquiry to:TSST@careerbuilder.com Please also review common scams and tips for protecting yourself on CareerBuilder's Fraud Page. If you have questions or comments for and CareerBuilder, please use our feedback form."

Dear Katy,

Thank you so much for your email. This sounds like an incredible opportunity, as I have always wanted to be a farmer. Well, not always exactly. But recently I have developed an overwhelming urge. Ever since it became clear that being an artist was going to bankrupt me and I needed to find something more lucrative and realistic to do with my life. My community garden plot is coming along quite nicely and I enjoy being there tremendously. So I think farming would be the appropriate next step for me.

I especially appreciate your tagline, "Gets you back where you belong", because I feel that people are too disconnected from the source of their food nowadays and more people should be farming. They should put down their laptops and cell phones, turn off their HDTVs, go outside, breath some fresh air and get some dirt under their fingernails for a change. I have some dirt under my fingernails right now and I like it. It's shoved under there really good too. Maybe a teaspoon's worth total. Not enough to grow a radish in, but I could probably grow a dandelion.

I am relieved that you'll be providing training because I'm ashamed to say that although I hold a Bachelor of Science degree in Biology, took several botany/plant classes, know how plant cell walls are constructed, can explain the process of photosynthesis, and can rattle off Latin species names, I know remarkably little about the practical applications of how to actually grow things. I'm all theory. Wouldn't know how to wack a weed if it walked up to me and handed me its stamen.

(In case you didn't recognize it, that was a very funny joke. Please read it again.)

I'm also really looking forward to the two years of financial assistance. That will be a nice change! When will that start? Because I'd like to build a chicken coop. And I'm going to require some capital in order to do that.

Now can I grow whatever I want or will you decide for me? I'd like to farm something that doesn't grow too close to the ground. Or too high up in trees. Preferably something I can pick from a comfortable, upright position. And nothing too small and time-consuming to harvest. It would drive me insane to have to pick a whole field full of blueberries. I have nightmares like that. Seemingly never-ending, tiny, excrutiating, little, tedious, detailed task nightmares...

Oh wait. No, those are actually memories. Yeah. From my time in DNA Analyst training. When I spent a year of my life moving itsy-bitsy little bits of liquid around from one little tube to another for 9 hours a day in a windowless basement wearing polyester, a face shield and closed-toed shoes. That sucked. It was like organizing grains of sand. In a desert. With blinders on. And confined, sweaty feet. So I think I would prefer to harvest something a bit larger than blueberries. But smaller and higher up than watermelons. Maybe something beefsteak tomato-like. But not actually tomatoes because they sometimes get those freaky giant green caterpillar things. And I can't deal with those. So something tomato-like, but not tomatoes. Perhaps cucumbers.

Is cucumber farming an option or does everybody grow those? Is growing cucumbers like the Communications major of the farm world?

Well, I look forward to speaking with you further regarding this opportunity.

Best Regards,
Anna Nimus

Things to Do: Get Your Farm On

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Fri, 29 May 2009 17:18:00 +0000

If you're anything like me, you're anxiously waiting for an opportunity to drag your old overalls out from the bottom of the pile in the back of your closet. Well, you don't have to wait for them to come back in style anymore. Growing food is a wonderful way to save money, feed your soul, reduce your carbon footprint AND make use of outdated fashions.

And if you don't have a yard, that's OK! There are still things you can grow and locations begging to be made useful. My favorite new movement is guerilla gardening. This involves the appropriation of public spaces, other people's spaces or poorly used spaces for growing flowers and veggies (for example, a weed-filled traffic island or an unused empty lot). Some people even hide their fruits and veggies amidst flowers to deter potential veggie thieves. Others plant their garden in the central strip between opposing directions of freeway lanes and tend to them under the cover of night. They call themselves 'Cat Gardeners'. Yup... I totally made that up. Don't do that!

Now you probably won't have to worry about anyone stealing your swiss chard. So you go ahead and put those right out front. Then hide your strawberries behind them. And put something eye-catching (perhaps poppies...or maybe marigolds) behind the berries. This is the gardening equivalent of pointing at something in the opposite direction to distract someone's attention.

Of course, you can also make creative use of your own spaces too. If you don't have any ground to work with, you can use containers. Now, actual garden pots and containers have gotten expensive over the years. Even the cheap plastic containers aren't so cheap anymore. I got lucky and managed to snag a bunch of containers at the dollar store this past spring. For larger containers, I bought some 18 gallon plastic storage containers on sale for 5 bucks and just drilled holes in the bottom. You can also use old tires, plastic kiddie pools, buckets, tupperware, plastic bags... Some people get used tubs from local ice cream parlors and fast food restaurants. Anything that can contain dirt and drain water will work. Simply match the size of the plant to the container and be sure to drill or poke holes in the bottom.

Remember to always keep the containers that come with any plants and veggie starts you purchase! The 2-quart size is perfect for growing a head of lettuce. And you can grow your own veggie starts from seed in the little trays and smaller containers.

I, myself, am getting to be the queen of unusual garden containers (I know, you'd think I'd have my hands full what with being the Queen of Self-Indulgence!) I even recycled some plastic cat litter tubs and now my budding leeks are happy as clams. If you require additional container-related inspiration, please see my post entitled, "A Cheaper Kind of Gardening".

If you have an eye for detail, you'll notice I used little popsicle sticks as markers. Another great dollar store find. They won't last, but that's OK because they're biodegradable and I can compost them!

It's also worth mentioning that more and more community gardens are popping up around the country. Spaces are usually free or really cheap. Ours is $50 a year and that includes dirt and water. They even have tools available for us to use. In case you're wondering, yes they do have pitch forks and, yes, my husband and I posed for an American Gothic inspired photo. But we got it all wrong and smiled.

I won't go into a lot of boring details about what to grow where and how. I will mention that although they say to grow everything in full sun, that is a lie. Kind of like that the "dry clean only" labels. While that may be optimal in a full-sun-everywhere and free-dry-cleaning-for-everyone world, there are lots of things you can grow in locations with just 4-5 hours of sun per day. (And FYI, you can wash cashmere sweaters in water.)

All of the lettuces and leafy veggies do just fine with less than a full days' sun. In fact, in the heat of summer, the lettuces will thank you (by not bolting and dying). And herbs and root vegetables do OK too. Remember, most of the plants in the world (out in nature) grow just fine without anyone doing a damn thing for them. Growing stuff is not that complicated. (And despite what you may think, you're not completely in charge of the process.) Granted, you're growing things that are likely not native to where you live, but still. You don't need to get all fancy unless you want to.

I realize that getting started with all this may require a certain initial monetary investment. And dirt is more expensive than you'd think it would be considering how readily available it is. How much your supplies cost will depend on how particular you are with regard to aesthetics and how much time and patience you have. If you have an abundance of time and patience, you can find almost anything you might need for free or super cheap. Craigslist is always a great source for free stuff. Trees, plants, veggie starts, seeds, containers... Often you just need to be able to dig it up and/or haul it away. Need stepping stones? On any given day you'll likely find a contractor or homeowner with a pile of broken cement pieces from an old patio that they don't know what to do with. It's not just a garden- it's an art project!

Want to start plants from seed? Here's a seed exchange site where you can request or trade seeds for free. Remember, you can also save seeds from fruits and veggies you buy and grow.

There is nothing quite like the sense of accomplishment and self-sufficiency that comes with harvesting your own homegrown fruits and vegetables. Plus you can grow things you'd never find in stores. If you have extra produce, you can freeze it, can it or dehydrate it and use it over the winter. You can give some to your neighbors. Or you can save it in case things get even worse. You know, like if your unemployment compensation runs out. Or if the end of western civilization descends upon us and money loses all value and American grocery stores begin to resemble Eastern Bloc grocery stores. You won't feel like such a schmuck with your dirt-filled kiddie pool and your pitchfork then! When everyone else is choking down squirrel and tree bark soup, you'll be savoring roasted fingerling potatoes with rosemary and green bean arugula salad.

Hmmm... Maybe we should get some chickens.

Dear Home Depot...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Fri, 15 May 2009 21:31:00 +0000

I just returned from shopping at one of your stores and I'd like to give you some feedback regarding my experience today. I didn't make any large purchases. Just picked up a few veggie starts for my garden. I'm going to try growing lemon cucumbers and Japanese cucumbers this year. I almost got some Armenian cucumbers too because I think it would be nice to incorporate some serious cucumber diversity into my life (as the only cucumbers I've ever known have been the standard grocery store variety), but really, how many cucumbers can one person eat? My husband won't touch them. I don't know why. How can you not like cucumbers? They're crunchy and taste like water. What's not to like? I know why. His mother turned him into a picky eater. Probably fed him nothing but chicken fingers and fish sticks. So maybe next year.

Now, I've never grown cucumbers before but for some reason I think they get sort of tall and viney and the fruits hang off the plant. And if that's the case, then they need to be staked or trellised, right? So I was thinking that one of the easiest and most economical ways to stake them might be to use a tomato cage.

So I went up to the cash register with my little plants to be rung up and I asked the cashier if I could use tomato cages to support my cucumber plants. To this, she rather gleefully and gradiosely replied, "I have no idea!" She said this as if she was particularly proud of her ignorance and it was the most entertaining thing in the world that I'd asked her. (Kind of the way I reply when someone asks me about bowling. But then, I don't work in a bowling alley.) Huh. I didn't even know how to respond, so I gave her a hearty, "Well, OK then!"

I have to say, her blatant honesty was refreshing. I appreciated it. I really did. Because had she pretended to be helpful, she might have just lied and said, "Yes, actually tomato cages work really well as cucumber supports." And then I would have gone off into the world thinking I was so clever to come to that conclusion all on my own and then I might have ended up being the laughing stock of the community garden. It wouldn't be the first time. There was that time back '03 when I tried to stake my tomatoes and peppers with duct tape and PVC pipe. It was years before people called me by my actual name and not Duct Tape Girl. I certainly don't want them to start referring to me as Tomato Cage Girl.

Anyway, I sure am glad she didn't hold up the line by trying to find out for me. That would have been embarrassing. I am very uncomfortable with any sort of "above and beyond" style of service. It makes me feel guilty. I don't know why. In general I like to do all the legwork for my purchases myself. I like to hunt down what I'm looking for without any help. Sometimes I don't even read the aisle signs- just to give myself an extra little challenge. When I finally find what I'm looking for, I like to compare and contrast the options by reading the boxes and turning them around and pulling them off the shelves by myself (especially if they're big and heavy). And I like to try and figure out which item matches which price label (because they're usually not in the right place on the shelf and god forbid anyone would go to the trouble of applying actual price stickers to anything). I like to think of the whole experience as a little exercise in patience and critical thinking. Keeps my brain sharp. Turns shopping into a major accomplishment. Not like those Nordstrom shopper wussies.

You can just imagine my displeasure when I go to high-end specialty shops and knowledgeable salespeople try to "help" me by showing me where things are and explaining product feature differences. I really friggin' hate that. And then they stand there waiting for you to decide so they can carry your purchase to the register for you. Awful.

That's why I love shopping at Home Depot. No pressure. No knowledgeable salespeople. And also because I like the challenge of reviving half dead plants that have been left in full sun to fend for themselves with regard to their moisture needs.

As you might imagine, I also like what you've done with the self-check out. I can't tell you how many anguished years of my childhood I spent desperately longing to pass items across the little scanner and make them beep. Seriously. And they would never let me near the thing. So finally, now I get my chance. And I'm not at all offended by the fact that I'm spending a ton of money at your store and you can't even be bothered to provide me with the lowest common denominator of customer service in the form of a minimum wage earning high school drop out cashier. Some people might be bothered by that, but not me. I like it.

Beep.

Fun with Spammers: Dear Major Larry Downs...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 15:10:00 +0000

I was wondering how I might best utilize my morning when I was greeted with the following email. (Yay! One hour killed. Now what?) Here it is (and [sic] for the whole thing):

Greetings,
I know you would be surprised to read from someone relatively unknown to youbefore. My name is Major. Larry Downs, a member of the ARMY USARPAC
Medical Team, which was deployed to Iraq in the beginning of the war in Iraq.

I would like to share some highly personal classified information about my
personal experience and role which I played in the pursuit of my career servingunder the U.S 1st Armored which was at the fore-front of the war in.

Though, I would like to hold back certain information for security reasons for now until you have find the time to visit the BBC website stated below to enable you have insight as to what I'm intending to share with you, believing that it would be of your desired interest one-way or the other.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2988455.stm

Also, could you get back to me having visiting the above website to enable us discuss in a more clarifying manner to the best of your understanding. I must say that I'm very uncomfortable sending this message to you without knowing truly if you would misconstrue the importance and decides to go public. In this regards, I will not hold back to say that the essence of this message is strictly for mutual benefit of you and I and nothing more.

I will be vivid and coherent in my next message in this regards, meanwhile,
could you send me a mail confirming you have visited the site and we can partner in the project i have .
Thanks,
Best Regards
Major Larry Downs

So then I said:

Dear Major Downs,

You're right. I am surprised to hear from you (and "read" from you, as you put it). I'm also surprised that you consider yourself to be relatively unknown to me, when in fact you are completely unknown to me. In any case, I'm writing to confirm that I received your email and I invite you to respond "vividly and coherently" with regard to the veiled intention of your email. I'm especially looking forward to the "coherent" part.

I should say that I appreciate you choosing me, out of the billions of possible email addresses in the world, to share this matter with-- a matter which is both highly personal and related to matters of classified national security. I'm glad that you think so highly of me and chose to entrust me with whatever it is you're implying you will be entrusting me with. Is it because of my Facebook page? I work really hard to come across as amiable (that means friendly) on my Facebook page. REALLY hard. Because I'm not actually amiable, I just try to make people think I am.

Well, I visited the web site link and read the BBC news story to which you are referring and I found no mention of you. Of course, considering the classified nature of your position in this situation, I suppose one must expect a certain amount of secrecy! I am sorry to hear that some of your cohorts were caught. Bummer. You must feel very alone. Alone and scared and surrounded by vast fortune. (Well, that's more for us, right?)

So if I read between the lines, it seems as if you're trying to tell me that you stole a large amount of this huge hidden money stash? (Or is it BULLION??? I would love some BULLION!!! BOOYAH, BULLION!!! And I don't mean soup, baby!) And you need my help? And in exchange for my help, you'll share it with me. Is that a correct assessment? OK, here's what you need to do. You need to get a whole bunch of Madonna statues (as in Jesus's mother, not the Material Girl). And you need to hide the money in those and then send them on a plane with some missionaries. Trust me. This will totally work because no one expects religious statues to contain stolen money or missionaries to transport stolen money. And this is how they transport illegal stuff on TV. (TV is a very useful tool for people wishing to learn how to become criminals.)

I appreciate that you specifically stated that your message (and our subsequent partnership) is purely for our mutual benefit and nothing more. Had you not stated that, I might have thought you had less than pure intentions in contacting me. (My Facebook photo is unrealistically good.) And I want you to know right now that love can never blossom between us. Because I am married. But if you want to give me money, I'm sure my husband would find that perfectly agreeable.

Faithfully Yours,

Anna Nimus

PS- What exactly does a "Servingunder" do? Would you recommend that as a career choice- like, is it something that you can do as a civilian as well?

Things to Do: Create a Book Proposal

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 17:32:00 +0000

One of the potentially most rewarding endeavors you could engage in (after the purchase of lottery tickets) is the creation of a book proposal. Look what it did for the "Stuff White People Like" guy! However, you should be aware that like all other creative pursuits (visual art, acting, singing etc.), you will have people telling you that you suck and they're not interested in your work until you either A) make it, or B) give up, crawl away and die (metaphorically speaking, of course). So this is not a project for the faint-hearted. This is for those die-hard, wish upon a star, fairytale-believing, follow your dreams, "Do What You Love the Money Will Follow", "Secret" people. You know... Suckers. Saps. People like me. People that repeatedly fall flat on their faces and just keep getting right back up again. Stubborn people.

So I wrote my little book proposal and I sent out my little book proposal. And I received the following email first thing this morning from a bonafide New York Literary Agent. Here's how it went:

Thanks for your query. I'm not "there" -as in whatever place that would be a there to visualize a strong market for your book and to include myself as a passionate member of your audience.

I could -and maybe should - just write "no thank you" and leave well enough alone. However, maybe because of the hour (2:40AM) or my belief that you have creativity and a passion to express it, I will offer up my opinion (and just my opinion) that you are currently off the mark. I found your proposal sprawling and self-indulgent.

Harsh words indeed. But I write them from a belief that you have the creative goods to give more thought and better shape to something that entertains and inspires. If I thought you were a total hack, I would have simply written "no thank you."

Hate me if you must.

[name, web site and contact info removed]

OUCH. "Sprawling and self-indulgent." Is it just me or does that part of the email glow? However, it does give me a sliver of a bone doesn't it? That means I shouldn't give up, right? It means I should have hope and keep trying. It means I should respond back!!!

Dear Mr. [nevermind],

Thank you for your super speedy, very Simon Cowell-ish response. (You're an "American Idol" fan aren't you?) I don't quite know how to respond. I guess a thank you is in order for the backhanded compliment. (I'll take whatever I can get.)

As for my proposal, I prepared it in a manner that I believed to be correct. I'm certainly willing to rework it if I receive some constructive criticism. However, I'm just not sure how to fix "sprawling and self-indulgent". Would you be interested in offering me some additional direction? Was it because I mentioned David Sedaris? Does everybody do that? Is that like comparing oneself to Jesus? Actually, perhaps "self-indulgent" perfectly summarizes this entire project because the whole reason I do the blog is to entertain myself. So maybe you're spot-on with that characterization. In fact, I think I am the queen of self-indulgent. (That would make an excellent cartoon.)

I would like to say that while my proposal may convey an odor of literary naivete, may I ask what you think of the book? Or of the blog entries that will become the book? I will admit that I don't know how to sell myself. However, I've gotten pretty darn good at being myself and that's all I'm trying to do with my writing, artwork etc. I am trying to embrace all that has gone wrong, along with the few things that have gone right. And I think there may be lots of other people in a similar position. People who are trying to find a reason to smile, who derive some comfort in knowing they are not alone, and who are trying to remember that all of this suckiness will eventually pass if they just keep dragging their deflated asses out of bed every morning and keep going no matter what.

As for the potential market, there are currently over 13 million unemployed people in the US alone. (source: http://www.bls.gov/news.release/pdf/empsit.pdf) But my book is not just for unemployed people- it's first and foremost meant to be a humor book and secondarily, a personal narrative.

Warm Regards,
Anna " not a total hack" Nimus

PS- It's a good thing I still have the thick skin I developed over the past month or so doing my Census Bureau address canvassing job. Otherwise, your email might have made me cry. :) But I'm going to keep it because someday maybe we can look back at it and say, "HA!". (Just like I did when my Botany professor told me I couldn't get straight A's if I took 6 upper division science classes.)

PPS- Oooooooohhh.... IDEA! Maybe our email correspondence could be the epilogue?!!!

PPPS- Hey... was your email a purposeful attempt at getting published on my blog? Good job. I'm totally falling for it. But I won't use your name. (Be sure to look for the "queen of self-indulgence" cartoon later today.)

The Queen of Self-Indulgence

Dear Invisible Fence Company...

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 23:20:00 +0000

Oh no you di'n't. But you DID. Your google ad is on my blog!!! NO WAY. I am totally going to have to block your ad. Actually, I don't want to have to go to the trouble of figuring out how to block your google ad from my site, so since you probably have a web ad/analytics/marketing guy, I'm going to request that you handle the removal of your ad from my blog yourself. You see, my time is very valuable because I'm not being paid for my work. (It makes sense.) In essence, my time is priceless. My work is sort of a special gift, a 'calling' if you will.

And besides, if you read what I wrote about your invisible fence on my blog, I'm quite certain you wouldn't care to advertise here. Because I made it blazonly clear that I hate invisible fences. (See how I made that word up by adverbicating a known word? I also just verbified the word 'adverb'. I think that's pretty good too. Wow, I'm on wordification roll today!)

But I digress... Back in the day, it was customary to place large "BEWARE OF DOG" signs on a gate leading to one's enclosed (by an ACTUAL fence) backyard. Nowadays, apparently it has become a favored practice among the stingy rich to contain their scary ass canine creatures within a space consisting of a quasi- "boundary" on their big ass properties of which they are too cheap to enclose with a real fence. And instead of warning prospective door-knockers and meter readers and package dropper-offers that a large beast (or two) has free reign on the ENTIRE property, including the walkway up to the front door, they have these little TINY signs or occasionally tiny lawn flags (which just look like some sort of construction marker that you can't even read unless the wind is blowing) that simply say "invisible fence".

Now, until your life has actually been endangered by accidently overlooking these little signs and flags on numerous occasions, a tiny sign reading "invisible fence" is blatantly meaningless. While criminals may very well know to look for these markers, normal non-invisible-fence-having people simply don't notice them. Therefore, it comes as a HUGE surprise when a decent, regular person simply doing their job or trying spread God/Buddha/Jehovah/Krisha's love encounters two great danes charging toward them at full speed with snarled faces and exposed fangs (Hey, maybe those are their names!?). And if the dogs don't kill you, the heart attack that follows very well may.

One has to wonder how many times an owner who was too cheap to put up a real fence ended up spending way more money on a lawsuit brought upon him by someone who was bitten by his dog when the person unknowingly and rightfully entered into the invisibly fenced space? Just desserts perhaps? (Hmm. Maybe that's not the proper phrase to use when a dog makes a meal of a person.)

So anyway, I thought I'd take some time to share with you my dissatisfaction with your product and offer some suggestions for improvement.

My suggestions:

1. MUCH LARGER SIGNS. Flashing, neon signs. Signs that don't hang limply folded up in the absence of gale force winds. Signs that warn not of an invisible fence, but of the rabid, unleashed beast(s) who have free reign of the property and who may or may not be contained by said invisible fence (and extra pissed off if they cross the barrier and are administered an electric shock).

2. I think you should create an invisible fence system that gives potential fence crossers from the outside (mailmen, Census workers, religious crusaders etc.) an electric shock when they attempt to enter. This would be preferable to having the beejezus scared out of us or losing a limb. They have something like this on "Lost". Maybe you can use that as your source of inspiration?

3. You should sell a street side doorbell. And it should be at the top of a permanently-mounted, street-side ladder. That way, house visitors have somewhere safe to go in the event that an angry, very recently electrocuted, headstrong dog passes the invisible "barrier".

4. Maybe you should sell an invisible dog to go along with your invisible fence? I think this would sell really well among the more sadistic invisible fence owners (I suspect that's a fairly large percentage). Imagine the potentially wildly successful YouTube video that might result from having an invisible dog attack a tambourine-yielding Hare Krishna within the "boundaries" of an invisible fence.

Your Friendly Neighborhood Disgruntled Census Bureau Worker,

Anna Nimus

Cover Letter: Private Laundry Person

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 22:18:00 +0000

Care of Craigslist, here is the job I'm applying for today:

Private Laundry Person
Private family desires an experienced person to handle laundry responsibilities.

The ideal candidate will have experience in:

Caring for and have knowledge of laundry requirements of all types of clothing and linens.
Washing, ironing, steaming, mending clothing and linens
Experience in operating a press machine is a plus
Must be able to read and understand laundry instructions on garments
Organization of wardrobe and household linens.
Correct storage of all different types of garments.
Packing for short/long trips.

Please send a summary of your experience in these areas either through a resume or within an email correspondence.

Here is my response:

To Whom This May Concern;

I'm writing in response to the vacant Private Laundry Person position posted on Craigslist. Now, when you say you're seeking a Private Laundry Person, are you seeking a private person to do your laundry (like someone who's quiet and keeps to themselves) or a person to do your private laundry (like your undies)?

You may wonder why I ask. It's because although I'm quite capable of washing undies (i.e. private laundry), I'm not a private person at all. In fact, I can hardly keep my mouth shut about anything and I think I'd probably be inclined air your dirty laundry in public. HA. Funny. Just kidding. I promise I won't tell anyone what kind of underwear you wear. You indicated that you are a "private family" so I imagine you wouldn't appreciate that very much. ESPECIALLY if you have anything from Frederick's Of Hollywood!

But seriously, I have a significant amount of prior laundry experience, although thus far, it has all been at the amateur level. This would be my first time washing laundry in a professional capacity. But I can assure you that I am competent, skilled and educated in the laundry arts. I even know how soap works at the microscopic level. You see, there's a hydrophobic (water-hating) and a hydrophillic (water-loving) end on each soap molecule. And the hydrophobic end is attracted to the grease, grime, dirt and organic materials deposited on your dirty clothing. Then the water comes and whisks away (hey...that's where they get name for that detergent!) the little soap molecules by their hydrophillic ends and off goes the soap molecule, along with any dirt clinging to the other (hydrophobic) end. Voila! All clean.

I am also really good at folding clothes. I learned this while working in retail. So there you go. I have professional laundry folding experience. However, I should note that I've never mastered the ability to fold fitted sheets. They pretty much always end up as a wrinkled, rolled up clump in the linen closet. Is that a biggie for you? I'm sure there is some way to properly fold them. I mean they come nicely folded in the package. Maybe we'll have to visit a fitted sheet manufacturing facility and learn how they do it. I LOVE field trips! You will be reimbursing me for my travel though, right?

And as if my knowledge of surfactant (soap) chemistry and my professional laundry folding experience wasn't enough to make me a top contender for this position, I can also offer you the ability to read, understand AND TRANSLATE washing instructions. But why would I need to translate washing instructions, you ask (when my grasp of the English language is so obviously magnificent)? Because the washing instructions for most garments are way more anal than they need to be. This is a CYA maneuver on the part of the manufacturer. They say we need to "hand wash in cold water" or "dry clean only" everything. But that's not true. Normal people don't wash things according to the directions. And if I dry-cleaned everything that said it needed dry-cleaning, I'd be living in The Poor House. (I don't know where The Poor House actually is, but I know it's somewhere nearby because growing up, my parents often referred to possibility of us moving there.)

I also have a degree in Biology, but I don't think I'll be using much of that for this particular position. However, if you require additional chores that make use of my biological knowledge (plant grafting, animal behavior, worm composting, removing the cilia from flagellates and tracking the amount of time it takes them to grow back while under the influence of protein synthesis inhibitors, etc.), I will have to charge you extra.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Regards,

Anna Nimus

PS- I don't know if you really need to specify that you're seeking someone who can read if you're advertising in writing. I think the limiting factor is sort of built into the advertisement, no?

PPS- It doesn't really hurt the flagellates when you remove their cilia. Because they don't have brains and can't process pain information. Seriously. It's way more mean to pull a leg off of a fruit fly, which can occasionally happen accidently when you give them some FlyNap and try to organize them according to their physical traits using tweezers. (I was REALLY sorry.)

Fun with Temp Jobs: Census Bureau (Part 6)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Sat, 25 Apr 2009 16:36:00 +0000

I am done. I canvassed my last addresses today. And for a little while I actually thought my last day might be OK considering I was no longer going door to door. Then I met a sweet old man and his little basset hound and I liked them both very much. I even had some sunshine to work with. But then... Walking through the middle of my last townhouse complex, it all went down hill in an instant. Anyway, I'm done now and I will never do this job again.

Here is my haiku for the day- I call it "Ode to the Last Asshole":

old man stood too close

grabbed my neck badge, eyed it good

nasty old fucker

AND I have another special surprise for you today. Not only do you get a haiku, but you also get two cartoons! Not one. Two. Yay.

Here they are- I call them "First Day on the Job" and "Worst Day on the Job":

I am always happy when my misery can be utilized as a source of entertainment and amusement for others. (I'm really giving in that way.)

Fun with Temp Jobs: Census Bureau (Part 5)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 20:50:00 +0000

Whew! Another eventful day. I think I should start a Census Bureau address canvassing bingo game with my coworkers and we could mark things off as we come across them: Talking to someone at an intercom at a big iron driveway gate: check. Being chased by attack dogs: check. Going down a long dirt driveway into "Deliverance" country and encountering a man with a foot-long beard working on a multitude of junky old trucks: check.

I think someone called the police on me today. (Check. That would be the center square of my bingo card). It's happened to other Census Bureau workers here already and the way people have responded to me, I'm not completely surprised. Totally insulted, but not surprised.

I started the morning canvassing in a quiet little cul-de-sac. Then I moved on to the next block over and when I was finished, I drove back to the cul-de-sac I started on to check on a missing address and there was a police car leaving as I pulled in. It's a small little side street that they probably never normally drive through, so I'm pretty sure he was there because of me. Of course, they already know that we're out address canvassing because they've been called multiple times about us already. So when he saw my very obvious car (bright color, distinctive style) pulling in, I'm sure he saw me and just didn't bother to stop and talk to me.

And I only cried one time today. You know why I only cried once? Was it because there were no more big dogs? No. Was it because they finally ran a news story telling people that census workers are actually really out address canvassing and if one of them comes to your door, they are not scam artists? No. (They ignored my email request for a news story because apparently running random news stories about car crashes in other states is somehow more useful to people. If it bleeds, it leads...)

The reason I only cried one time today is because after the first time, I decided I'd had quite enough of people and I stopped going to people's doors. I broke protocol. Yup. I stopped caring about being a diligent worker. I just stopped. Obviously these people don't care about an accurate census and having the proper number of elected officials in the district or funds for their schools and police agencies and streets and libraries. So if they don't care, I don't care.

Now, I just deal strictly with houses and numbers. And I don't care if they fire me. I swear I would quit if there wasn't a good chance that sticking it out just one more week might result in me being able to get a tiny little unemployment check. Maybe I'll even get enough to cover my student loan payment. I think that would be fair since I'm not really using my education anymore anyway.

You want to know who made me cry? I went to this one house (little ranch, nothing fancy), and while the young woman who came to the door was perfectly pleasant and nice, her dickhead husband/boyfriend/whatever was standing in the background looking all pissed off and asshole-ish at me. So then she answered my one question about the extra living quarters and as I was leaving and walking up the driveway, Mr. Fuckface Napoleonic Complex pokes his ugly little mean face out the door and says in a nasty, angry, accusatory tone, "Don't you want to know how many people live here?" He was all attitude-y, like "Ah ha- I caught you, you criminal" at me. Because Mr. Fuckface is such a smarty pants, he knows the census is for counting people. Can't pull the wool over your eyes, Einstein. Good thing I didn't pull out my ether perfume samples or try one of my other email-circulated urban myth tactics on him.

Obviously Mr. Fuckface forgot that the census questionnaires come in the mail, addressed to an address. And you know how they get those addresses, smart guy? They get unemployed, desperate schmucks like me to knock on doors and be verbally abused by assholes like you.

He was so busy jumping to conclusions and being a big dick, he forgot to put on his thinking cap. (Maybe they don't make thinking caps in the "fat-head" size?)

You know what the worst part if this is? You know how I actually responded? My chance to shine, my one opportunity to make a smart ass comment... I politely told him that they'd be sending the questionnaires in January. WTF?!!!! What is wrong with me? I'm all big-talky loudmouth girl on my anonymous blog and in real life, I'm a hypersensitive scared mouse. I hate that. And on top of it, when people get all suspicious of me, I get uncomfortable and I start stammering and pretty soon, I'm acting suspiciously.

Well, I will be sending him a copy of my book when it comes out. Even if I have to self-publish it, I will have the last word. And I'll send a copy to the local library so all the citizens of [never mind] can read about all the jerky people who live here.

And you know what? I'm also going to send copies of my book to the "not now!!!" neighbor who lives about four houses away from me, the "invisible fence/two great dane" house, the "I'm going to completely ignore you and keep my back turned while my dog is attacking you and you're screaming for help" house and finally, the "SLAM the door, ha-ha, plastic-faced dragon lady" whose son thought it was so funny when she slammed the door in my face that I could clearly hear him laughing from outside. Oh! And I almost forgot "Mr. I don't tell anybody anything because of the internet" man. I think he deserves a book too, don't you think? Now, this is not an exhaustive list of all the assholes I've encountered, but it does include all of my favorites.

You know, I thought when I signed up for this that it would be a step up from having a menial job, that there was some respectability in working for the US Census Bureau. I thought I'd get to meet some neighbors and interact with fellow citizens of my town. After working by myself for three years, my husband thought it would healthy for me to interact with people. Ha! Fuck people. Dishwasher Pete had the right idea. Working alone all day is fantastic. I am a rock, I am an island. No personas por favor. Do you see what this job is doing to me? It's very bad for my self-esteem. Now I'm all angry and pissed off everyday. I used to be fun and funny and light-hearted. Have you read some of my earlier, pre- crappy job posts? I used to be delightful.

Delightful.

Fun with Temp Jobs: Census Bureau (Part 4)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Tue, 21 Apr 2009 02:40:00 +0000

A Very Bad Day

This. Job. SUCKS. I hate people with their big fucking scary ass dogs and their invisible fences with their tiny, itty bitty, little signs telling people they have an invisible fence (and hence, unleashed dogs). I really need these signs to be bigger and maybe flourescent and flashing? Great big warning signs- like FREEWAY ENDS... SCHOOL CROSSING... INVISIBLE FENCE CONTAINING UNLEASHED, UNPREDICTABLE CANINE WARRIOR.

In fact, I'd very much like for the invisible fence to be visible, like an ACTUAL fence.

Can I sue someone for scaring the shit out of me? I nearly lost my life 3 times today. And the last time, there were two HUGE GREAT DANES. Not one. TWO!!! Two great danes running full speed towards me barking angrily. I almost climbed a mailbox. It was all I had. And then I cried for the 3rd time in one day.

Fucking invisible fences. Fucking dogs. Fucking asshole owners. I truly hope that someday they really need an ambulance and that when the paramedics come, they refuse to get out of the ambulance. Yes I do wish that. Yes I do.

It's never a bichon frise contained by an invisible fence. Or a dachshund. Or a pet Llama. Not even golden retrievers. No, it's always some aggressive, testosterone-y dog with big teeth and loud scary bark. Usually a breed without a tail so you have no clue what it's thinking.

How do these people even receive packages? Does the UPS driver just slow down and toss things over the (invisible) fence? If I send them a box of dog shit, how will it get there?

Fun with Temp Jobs: Census Bureau (Part 3)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Sat, 18 Apr 2009 02:06:00 +0000

Ok, I've completed two full weeks of canvassing now and I am not any skinnier yet. I am also starting to really friggin' hate this job. Today, it was raining again and I hate doing this in the rain. It makes me feel incredibly wilted and drippy. And lame. And pissed off that I have to do this.

Plus, the area I'm canvassing right now was planned in such a way to allow for maximum lot size and minimum street size. Therefore every time a car passes, I have to choose between staying on the pavement and risking my life or standing in a muddy ditch. And god forbid two BMW's happen to come at the same time going in opposite directions because I'm pretty sure when faced with crashing their cars into each other or mowing down a pedestrian (and I do mean 'pedestrian' in the derogatory sense of the word), I will be roadkill.

As an existentialist, I can appreciate the absurdity of experiencing unrelenting unpredictability at every single door I knock on. It's a surprise every single time. And I can't tell you how profoundly happy I am every time nobody answers. Or the relief I feel when someone smiles at me and seems genuinely kind.

Here I am, basically exactly the same person at every door- same face, same clothes, same age, same voice. (Although... my voice has gotten higher over the past two weeks and I'm starting to revert to what an old friend of mine used to call my "mouse voice", which I tend to use when asking a busy waitress for something... if you can explain this to me, please do.) Anyway... I'm the same person at every door. And yet, the reaction I get from people? ALL OVER THE PLACE.

I'm getting really tired of people looking at me like I'm up to something. I'm tired of people eyeing me skeptically. I'm tired of people pausing when I ask them if they have additional living quarters in their homes and watching the little wheels turn in their brains as they frantically search for any possible way this information might be used to scam them. Tired of it. The CENSUS... Jesus people, they do this every ten years. It's not new. And if I was a robber I wouldn't be wearing a bright red rain coat. (I wear a lot of red because I'm hoping my increased visibility will prevent me from getting run over.) What is it about me that makes me look so untrustworthy? Is it my 'mom jeans'? Did you not notice my very spectacular wedding set?

I can't look like a drug addict because I'm not thin enough and my teeth are all present and in good condition. I don't know what it is. Today I actually had someone open one of those little mini peephole doors and talk to me through it. Like in a movie? Those little mini doors with bars on the outside? I swear to god. I desperately wanted to ask why she didn't have a moat. When she finally hesitantly opened the door to accept the informational hand-out, I was hoping she'd have a hunchback because that would have made the story even better. But she turned out to be fully upright. :(

And then there was one house that was so hidden by shrubbery you could hardly see it from the street. Even the driveway leading up to it was so grown over with bushes and tree branches, it had obviously been years since an actual car has passed over it. So of course I wasn't about to walk up in there and knock on that door. Obviously, a serial killer lives there.

Then there was the house on the great big lot with a large dog barking somewhere behind all their big bushes and a sign in front that said the dog was fenced in by an invisible electric fence. Huh. Comforting. So he'll only be able to attack me within the confines of your property then?

I have a whole new respect and sympathy for mailmen now. So far, all the dogs who I've come into contact with have been friendly. However, I've had my heart stop on numerous occasions. Twice in the past 2 weeks, I've had dogs bark at me from inside and suddenly pop up next to me outside. A few years ago (pre-census work), I actually saw a big dog put his head right through a window in an attempt to reach us passersbys (can I use that plurally? Is 'plurally' even a word?) Anyway, my point is that having a huge dog bark ferociously at me from behind a front door does not necessarily put my mind at ease because every time it happens, I half expect Cujo to come tearing through the decorative door side window, topple the topiary, crush the hedgehog bristle shoe cleaner (everyone has one), leap up and rupture my jugular.

Maybe the biggest absurdity in this situation is the irony that I'm just as scared of the people who are scared of me. There is a reason I stand like 5 feet away from the front door. I have already practiced the scenario in my head in which I inform the bad guy that the GPS inside my handheld computer is tracking every move I make and they will know where to come looking for me if I turn up dead or missing. And the fact that I have a secret emergency call button just like the banks have. Yup. I'm a walking CSI show. No, I don't really have a call button. But that's my emergency spiel and I rehearse it every time I have to walk down a very long driveway to an isolated flag-lot house with one too many "no trespassing" (or "these colors don't run") signs in their front yard.

And if the reason you're looking at me like that is because you're the one who is up to no good, believe me, I don't want to know. I am not INS nor FBI nor DEA. I'm just some schmuck walking 5 miles a day through the rain verifying addresses. That's it. So please don't shoot me. I am not the government. I just want to do my crappy little job so that I can pay for proper orthopedic shoes and eventually get an unemployment check till I find a real job.

Try a New Food Tuesday: Yams (Or Are They Sweet Potatoes?)

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 23:13:00 +0000

Today we will be preparing and enjoying yams. Unless it turns out that what I bought are actually sweet potatoes, in which case we will be having the vegetable formerly known as 'yam'. I have only had sweet potatoes once, although now I'm not so sure since it appears that there is some genuine confusion as to which is which because apparently the US has its own common folk definitions which differ from the scientific definitions and the definitions universally accepted by the rest of the world. (Kind of like how we like to change the names of all the countries in the world to better suit our aptitude for pronunciation?)

I don't know. I googled, I wikipedia'd and I still don't know what it is I bought. So this is a photo of what I have:

And this is what I'll be referring to them as:

Yams.

And this is what I made with them:

I will call this dish "I Yam What I Yam Cheesy Melts".

Or perhaps.... Wait. Drum roll... (This is so good.) "My Yammy Vice"

I know. I'm a clever girl. Here is the recipe:

You'll need:

1. yams/ sweet potatoes/ WHATEVER

2. whatever non-fancy cheese you have on hand (but not blue cheese)

3. green onions

4. milk

5. salt, pepper

Do this:

1. Bake the yams at about 350-375 till they're soft inside. Like their very distant potato cousins, this will take a very long time.

2. Cool. While they're cooling, chop some onions. Then shred your cheese- however much you think you'll need. More tastes better, but less is healthier. (Slide your scale of cheese usage according to your own preferences and needs.)

3. Cut the cooled yams in half lengthwise and scoop out the insides. Place in a bowl. Add a splash of milk. I don't know how much- it depends on how many yams you have. Just enough to make them blend easier. Blend well (or just mix with a fork if you're lazy and don't mind lumps). Then add the onions and the shredded cheese, a little salt and pepper.

4. Then take your cheesy yam mix and spoon it back into your yam skins. Bake again till hot and melty- 350 for about 15-20 minutes)

5. Mmmm...

OK, not so much. They were acceptable. Edible. If I was prisoner in that movie "Papillon", I'd probably be really happy to get one of these for dinner. (I'm saying I'd rather eat yams than cockroaches.) So after a few bites of 'I Yam What I Yam Cheesy Melts', I opted for a frozen Marie Callender's fish dinner. And so did my husband who proceeded to tell me, "I don't like New Food Tuesdays". So there you go.

I do think a yam pie would be very good and now I understand why people put marshmallows on them and eat them like a dessert- because they taste more like pumpkin pie than pumpkins do. Or I think they'd make a good ingredient for health bars, perhaps mixed with dates and nuts. They just don't make for a good potato substitute. I won't give up on yams completely, but it will be a while before I make them again. Maybe next time I'll make a "Marshmallow My Yammy Vice Pie"...

Things to Do: Create a List of Status Updates You Don't Have the Guts to REALLY Post on Your Facebook Page

noreply@blogger.com (Anna O. Nimus) — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 12:44:00 +0000

A running list of considered and then discarded status updates for my Facebook Page:

1. Anna is... considering alcoholism as an alternative to sober misery.

2. Anna is... wondering why she ever signed up for a Facebook account.

3. Anna is... picking flecks of dandruff off of her cat, but they just keep coming.

4. Anna is... suffering the consequences of attempting to inflict an alcoholic lifestyle upon her (apparently) delicate constitution.

5. Anna is... wondering if there really are dead people watching over us and if so, do they get grossed out when you pick your nose?

6. Anna is... bitter and lonely. Fuck you. Don't talk to me.

7. Anna is... probably enjoying cleaning out of her toenails much more than people are supposed to.

8. Anna is... plucking hairs from all the places she shouldn't have hairs.

9. Anna is... incorporating more fiber into her diet.

10. Anna is... a little bit mean, deep down where she can hide it from people. (Just a little bit.)

11. Anna is... wondering if she's too old, too flabby, or too prudish to be a stripper.

12. Anna is... trying to do the booty clap and failing miserably, despite all the junk in her trunk.

13. Anna is... shopping for orthopedic shoes.

14. Anna is... feeling very sexy in her orthopedic shoes, doing the booty clap.

15. Anna is... suffering from boob itch. (That's when one of your nipples itches really bad, usually in a public place.)

16. Anna is... on a writing roll because it's her good hormone time of the month. (Apparently ovulation induces creativity.)

17. Anna is... wondering if her ability to write and paint will shrivel up along with her ovaries when menopause descends upon her.

18. Anna is... sick of always reading perfect little happy sunshine status updates from the same people. (Liars.) Please keep your incessant positivity to yourselves.

19. Anna is... wondering if pasties are actually attached with paste?

20. Anna is... marveling at the length and girth of her bowel movement. (Thank you fruits and veggies!)

21. Anna is... wishing she could find her yearbook so she could figure out who some of you people are.

22. Anna is... re-enacting the burping/arm-flapping scene from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. (The 1971 version, which is better.)

23. Anna is... Oh... God... Damn it... Excrutiating (gurgle gurgle)... Too. Much. Cheese... Damn you enchiladas... and all your undigestible lactose.

24. Anna is... curious where the term, "for shits and giggles" came from and wondering why she likes it so much.

25. Anna is... sick of hearing about what a fancy life certain people supposedly have: Ladeedah... Being spoon-fed a foie gras and Russian caviar croissant breakfast in bed (1800 thread count sheets, of course!) by my butler, whilst admiring the penthouse view of Monaco and, alas, suffering through a deep tissue foot massage... Really, shut the fuck up. (And where did your 19th century Jane Eyre speaking style suddenly come from?)

26. Anna is... bummed that she accidentally wore her "riding up" undies on her (subsequently) long and painful walk this morning.

27. Anna is... thinking she must be a huge geek if the thought of being given a hexadecimal color poster reminiscent of the periodic table could make her cum.