Archive for the 'Jobs' Category

dear oscar meyer.

July 23, 2010

To those that know and love me in real life, it’s no secret that I lust after and adore food – all kinds of food –  probably more so than my favorite fat man himself, Homer Simpson.   No joke.  This 5’2″ and 105 pound frame of mine can tear into some serious grub.

Give me some buffalo wings (make ’em spicy, I’m no wuss), give me a pepperoni pizza (I’ll eat the whole thing), or take me to taco bell (I’ll devour more tacos than you do, guaranteed).

Although I may mix it up with some tasty delights on the side, it’s really only a quick fix, and I feel so guilty once the rush has worn off.  My heart truly belongs to one precious food item – the almighty chili dog.  My mouth is already watering just from typing those words. 

I’m not kidding, my passion for hot dogs far exceeds almost everything else in my life (yeah ok, except for friends, family, music, writing, yadda yadda yadda… fine).  And no, it’s not simply a love for all things phallic related, although I probably make far too many “I love weiners” jokes.  I just freakin’ love them, ok?

When a friend of mine sent me this link today, it reminded me of a once lost childhood dream: I WANT TO DRIVE THE OSCAR MEYER WEINER MOBILE.

If it comes down to it, I’m willing to bet that this is something the Make a Wish Foundation could probably take care of. 

…How hard could it possibly be to fake a terminal illness… right?

Just play along,

Q

there’s no place like home.

June 18, 2010

I just got back from a business trip in Washington DC.  All things considered, it might have been the worst trip I’ve been on in a long while, business or otherwise.

I was almost mugged in broad daylight in front of about 20 people.  A homeless man asked me for a dollar and I kept walking: “No man, I don’t have any cash. Sorry.” (I really didn’t).  The man lept up and lunged at me, grabbing my purse.  Instinctively, I immediately smacked (and ninja Karate chopped) his hand hard with my free hand and he let go. 

No one even batted an eye.

I then sat in the convention center at our booth for 9 hours a day for 3 days straight.  This, my friends, might be the quickest path to insanity.  You know you have it bad when the next thing you have to look forward to is the crappy boxed lunch at noon. And let me tell you, nothing turns middle aged men into creepers quite like being at an out of town conference does! Next time, I’m rollin in there with a shirt made that says “I can see your wedding ring.”

On a positive note, I made friends with (i.e. shamelessly hit on) a cute young guy working the booth near ours.  We exchanged business cards and I almost immediately emailed him from my phone and gave him my cell number so he could text me to meet up the next night. (“Us young people gotta stick together at these things.” he wrote back).  We smiled and waved at each other from a distance for the remainder of the conference.

As luck (MY luck) would have it, my cell phone was stolen from my purse as my coworker and I were breaking down our booth on the last night of the show.  Anyone that knows me in real life knows that my iphone is my lifeline.  My music, my pictures, my contacts… everything is gone. AND, as if that wasn’t bad enough, single conference guy (and friends) was supposed to text me that evening to meet up.

I raced back to my hotel and emailed single conference guy to tell him what happened… and went upstairs to my room to mope and call it a night.  I awoke to a blinking message on my hotel room phone.  SCG did some research and found me at the hotel… interesting. 

We’ve since enchanged a few long thoughtful emails and a few texts on my temporary cell phone from 1987. (Picture Zack Morris’s first cell phone on Saved By the Bell. No joke).

So while I lost my beloved cellphone (and not to mention several hours of my life that I will never get back while sitting in that damn convention center), I do appear to have gained a new friend, and I can’t really complain about that.

I’m just glad to be home,

Q