This is a photo my friend Joel. For as long as I’ve known him, he’s been shaving his head like a cue ball. It suits him.
Tonight when I hopped on Facebook, this was his profile picture. In a thumbnail, it struck me as odd that he had sideburns, so I clicked in to view it more closely. And yes, that’s clearly a shark on his cheek. Appropriate for a guy who loves sharks and has chased them with his camera while helping film and produce documentaries for the Discovery Channel. Well done.
Since July, I’ve hired five people. Hiring has been part of my job for well over ten years, so it’s with a relative amount of confidence that I’ve deduced that soft economy has bred a new type of job seekers: Dumb ones. Wait – that might not be true – there is probably proportionally the same percentage of dumb job seekers as there was in the past, it’s just that I’m running into these people more frequently than I have in the past – both because there are simply MORE folks looking for work, and because *dumb* job seekers are spamming employers with their resume, applying for positions that they aren’t remotely qualified to hold.
I don’t watch much television. Generally, that’s because if I can catch an extra hour in the evening, I’m more inclined to spend it floating in my bathtub with a book or – shamefully – pissing it away on Facebook reading friends’ status updates and playing Scramble. So let’s be clear: I’m not taking a moral stance on television; there are simply other ways I prefer to waste my time.
Tonight I got together with my two best friends for a tradition that dates back almost ten years: Girls’ Wine Night. Throughout the years, our wine nights have served different purposes: sometimes we celebrate a new job, a new boyfriend, a new adventure; other times we’re lending support through a difficult relationship, a crappy boss, bad news.
When we were younger, our formula for determining supplies was something like, “A bottle per person and one for the pot.” It wasn’t uncommon for wine nights to stretch to midnight, followed by a day of texting blow-by-blow specifics of what we were eating to stabilize our stomachs. Healthy, right?
Friday night I saw a double billing of the Blind Boys of Alabama and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band at the Warner Theatre in DC. The venue was packed, and we were seated next to a nice older couple on one side, and a crabby older couple on the other. (The woman looked like a dried apple, and when I said, “Excuse me,” because I needed to get out to use the bathroom, she shouted, “Gimme a minute! Yeesh!” as I stepped over her.)
pithypants 