Brain Poops

Greg, showing us with his eyes how engaging an insect model really is.

Dear Fly,

Hey there! I couldn’t help but notice you buzzing around in my kitchen. Have you been there long?
My name’s Ben. I live here, and have for the past year and a half. If it weren’t for your short lifespan, I might have considered you a good roommate for how quiet you’ve been.

Do you have a name? Is it OK if I call you “Greg”? I hope so.

Greg, you’re not looking well. I’ve seen more than a few flies in my life and they all have had two wings. I admire your avante garde take on biological development, but it just won’t fly.

Or did you lose it in an accident? Perhaps you were scaling the grand PizzaBox towers and took a nasty fall, snagging your delicate wing on the cardboard in your sickening drop. I imagine you as an adventurer fly first class, Greg. It seems like the sort of feat you would attempt.     (continue reading…)

From a Person Who has Survived Two “Doomsdays”

Dear world,

Is something wrong?

I mean, it seems like every benchmark of civilization and relative development can’t pass without some group calling it the end of the world.

The year 2000? Certain doom by God’s wrath or gas station pumps launching nuclear missiles in Wisconsin or something. All I got out of the new years’ party was to hear the ONLY year (ONLY) Prince’s “1999″ is a good idea, and an awkward kiss that broke up a middle-school friendship with a cute blonde. (continue reading…)

Just started reading? Begin at ACT 1 by clicking here.

In our last episode…

We get about 10% less tangled than those bloody Righties and you say we have to stop. We remove sweaty palms from awkward stranger palms and sit down, pondering if we brought any hand sanitizer and vowing not to eat anything or touch our faces until we wash our hands again.

I remember that you whinged on about how the exercise told you everything you needed to know about us. You said if we grouped up into departments he would interview us one on one for about 30 seconds. You also mentioned that anyone who is hired will get a call by Sunday, and those who weren’t would have a quiet weekend.

Well it’s been a quiet weekend for me, I don’t mind telling you. And since it’s evident I’m not hired by you, I’d like to take a chance to tell you exactly how I feel.

(continue reading…)

In our last episode…

Right up front, you told us all that this process would take an hour, and that anyone who could not stay one hour needed to leave right then. Bug eyed applicants took turns glancing at each other.

We apparently were the Nobodies who really had to spend at least an hour with this guy to get hired. We somehow thought that instead of spending that hour improving ourselves or appreciating fine art we should sit here and endure him in hopes of at least a 1:11 chance of getting hired.

My soul bawled like a newborn hurled into a cactus patch.

(continue reading…)

Dear Cheesy Manager Who I Remember Too Much About,

My "Dream" Job

Hi! My name’s Ben. You may not remember me, but I was one of your applicants this week. I came into your Books N Shit, Inc branch early and prepared to take on your interview. Instead, I ended up in what I consider to be the biggest 2 hour waste of time since Disaster Movie.

Your minions directed me to the upper patio where our interview was to be held with a burning trail of anguished souls screaming to be hired. I saw it crawl up the Broken Escalator of Hardship, slither through the Twisting Wastes of  “Calendars of Intelligent Thought”, and fizzle to an end in the Field of the Always Occupied Four Chairs.

I sat in my (surprisingly) empty chair, with a printed resume, my pen and a hardcover copy of The HitchHikers Guide to the Galaxy to write on at the ready. As I dutifully filled out your company’s formal application, the other applicants started their invasion.

(continue reading…)