Cover Letter
As you all know, I’m moving to the west coast within 2 months. As such, I am in need of employment opportunities. Realizing that I have no idea how to write a cover letter, I turned to my goood friend Tom to assist. Below is what I received back.
August 31, 2005
To whom it may concern:
I am looking for work. Please hire me.
For a big boy, I don’t whine too much. I promise I won’t spend too many office hours surfing for porn on the web. Honest. And I won’t trash the company on my personal blog site: www.beyondbuffalo.com
For references, please call Tom. I’m his bitch, and he will give me a good reference. Or at least a good spanking.
Sincerely yours,
I think I have a good chance with a cover letter like that. Especially if it is a gay S&M owned business.
August 30, 2005
new new new
I had 3 more airlines to write about today, but I’m going to forgo those stories instead to tell you this.
Ouch
Ouch
Ouch
Ouch
Why am I in pain? You may be wondering.
Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I spent close to 4 hours in a chair being stuck repeatedly with 3-7 needles at a time in high-powere procession. Yes kids, I started my tattoo last night.
Here are a few pics of what transpired last night.
This is what it will look like when it is finished.
A huge thanks to Dave for that link yesterday to the British Bearways site. I laughed my ass off.
August 29, 2005
What a weekend!
I went camping with Crazy Michael (CM) to a little les-bi-trans-gay-sexual (R)camp ground in the wilds of Western Michigan called Campit. I refuse to go into the sordid little details of what transpired in the woods after the sun had set and the drag queens had completed their performances. Let’s just say that the wilds of Michigan are indeed wild.
While on the 2+ hour drive, CM and I took to developing new airlines specifically for the les-bi-trans-gay-sexual traveling public. It all began when we passed a sign in beautiful Gary, IN advertising $99.00 round trip to Las Vegas aboard HOOTERS AIR. Our extrapolation to the most absurd degree is what follows:
BONDAGE AIR
Amenities aboard our fleet of 4 luxurious Jumbo jets painted in flesh colors, with a simulated black leather harness surrounding the fuselage and the leather colors proudly waving on the tail are extensive. We offer two classes of service, Rubber class and Leather class with our Flight Slaves, Dominatrix and Masters in coordinating thongs to serve you. Our leather/rubber upholstered seats come with wrist and full body restraints. We are proud to offer Budweiser products served in cans and our complimentary ball-gags for the slaves traveling with us. Our in-flight entertainment includes vintage porn and Golden Girls reruns.
For flights over 2 hours, we invite you to visit the world’s only in-flight dungeon, complete with St Andrew’s cross, bi-level glory hole room and sex maze.
We hope your flight is painful and we look forward to whipping you again.
BEAR AIR
Bear air is proud to offer our guests extra wide seats and center aisles. You’ll appreciate that extra room as you return from our non-stop in-flight buffet served on paper plates, to your flannel upholstered seats and complimentary teddy bear pillows. Red-Eye flights will enjoy a non-stop pizza buffet. For your in-flight entertainment, Bear Air signed an exclusive deal with the Sci-Fi Channel to re-broadcast all of your favorite series while show tunes and country music is available on your personal headsets. (Available for a nominal $5.00 fee)
TWINK X-PRESS
Twink X-press exists to shuttle our circuit boy clients to/from all the world’s best parties. You’ll enjoy our high energy music and light show as you settle into your seats for your flight to Hotlanta, San Francisco, Ibiza and the grandest of them all, the White Party in Palm Springs. The entertainment doesn’t stop there. Twink X-Press provides all of our party boys with an unlimited supply of bottled water and orange halves. Our unique seats offer mirrored tray tables and include the latest cuts from the best DJ’s the world has to offer.
Don’t forget to visit our in-flight pharmacy and our “Boy Boutique” for the latest and greatest in party pills and fashion on the upper deck. You don’t need to worry about a thing with Twink X-Press; we’ve got you covered with complimentary sarongs and on-board EMT’s should any of your drugs not mix well.
Don’t wait till you get to the party to start, start the party with Twink X-Press.
Tomorrow will bring you the next 3 concepts we’d like to push on the traveling les-bi-trans-gay-sexual(R) public.
Until then…
August 26, 2005
cha cha cha changes
My how things can change in a minute.
I believe there are greater powers working in my life right now. Ken’s admonishment about my dislike of Chicago (A world-class city in its own right) and calls to stop whining like some little girl who lost her Barbie Doll’s head must have kicked something into gear, that set off a series of events that may, just may allow me to stop whining about Chicago, and begin whining about an entirely new locale.
Yesterday, my lovely roommate inquired about what plans I had for that evening. Telling her “Nothing, my life is dull and boring” she told me that was good because she wanted to talk to me. “Awe Jeez, now what did I do wrong?” thinking I complained about something, or didn’t do something that I should have.
“No, No nothing like that” I was told “its more about us living together period”. (I’m paraphrasing here, these are not her exact words, I’m pumping them up to be more dramatic.) (Pretty good huh?)
Well, as it turns out, she wants to change roommates. Her roommate, previous to me, recently broke up with his boyfriend and needs to move out and would like to live with her again. She agreed and that’s what started this whole mess that has my life in turmoil. But turmoil is not all bad.
I have a choice to make.
a.) Stay in Chicago, rent a new apartment and sign a new 1-year lease. Continue hating my very existence, thus allowing me an unbridled opportunity to bitch and moan about how miserable and lonely I am.
b.) Move.
I’m leaning towards Number b.
I’ve narrowed my destination to the Pacific Northwest. Seattle, Portland or Vancouver, BC I’m really leaning towards Seattle I must admit. I’d like to ride the wave of success that this new little company called “Microsoft” is having on the area. I think it might just be something big in the near future.
So, now to find a job there, Save some money (or rob a bank) to pay for this little move of mine. I’m also thinking that maybe the “Mommy-Wagon” should be traded in on something with 4×4 for the rainy wet mountains I’ll be driving through as I live the typical PNW adventurous, outdoor-living, Mountain Bike riding, Kayaking… (You get the picture) lifestyle.
Or should I move to Portland?
Decisions! Decisions!
August 25, 2005
Hello Moto
I’ve gone and changed my world.
I’ve been with Sprint PCS mobile phone service for many many years. You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at my contract, because they re-start it every time you make a minor change on your account. You want to receive e-mail bills? Sure, we’ll just re-start your contract from day one. You want to cancel the Vision portion of your service? Sure, just let me go ahead and re-new your 2-year contract and I’ll take care of it.
Well, after dealing with worsening reception and customer service that seems to be on autopilot, I’ve had enough.
Yesterday, I received yet again, a text message (that I’ll probably be charged for) trying to sell me yet another service for Sprint. I’d begun receiving these text messages from them 3 months ago, and each week, when I receive a new text message, I follow the instructions included to “stop” receiving future messages, and each week, there is a new text messages trying to sell me something new.
I phoned the Customer Service Department where the robots read a script basically repeating everything you say 3-5 times throughout the conversation, confirming that they are helping with what you called for, then confirming that they understood what you called for, then confirming that they are fixing what you called for, then confirming that they have solved your problem. Upon the final confirmation script repetition, they begin the process of ending the call by offering you a free second phone with a new second line. “No, thank you.” Then on to adding new services. “No, thank you.” Finally I just hung up on him as he continued along his sales route.
So I went out (after much research to phones, plans, and pricing options) and changed services. Oh, and I got this super cute phone here.
The man that sold me the service was a beautiful eastern European man with a nice butt and a beautiful demeanor.
Now the process of transferring all my numbers into the new phone and the fight with Sprint to avoid paying a termination fee on service that sucks ASS begins.
Wish me luck and be jealous of my fabulousness.
August 23, 2005
Could I please have a match?
As I settle into my cramped and dog hair covered home office this morning, sipping on my freshly brewed Starbucks coffee (Tall coffee in a Grande cup topped with soy please) my Einstein’s Bagel lightly toasted and covered with plain lite cream cheese already eaten and my anti-depression medicine swallowed down, I’m ready to start my morning, making cold-calls, the part of my job that I despise. I often wonder what I was thinking 15 years ago when I agreed to take a job in the cargo operations side of Japan Airlines. Why didn’t I request, no demand, the much more glamorous task of Passenger Service Agent?
Oh yes, that’s right I remember why… It got me out of my parent’s house and to the farthest point away from them on the continent. The glorious San Francisco Bay Area where I would begin my adult life and experience so many mistakes that would ultimately lead me down the path of life that dropped me in Chicago like an engine falling off of a DC-10 aircraft in the 1970’s. I crashed into Chicago in an enviable position that would quickly change for the worse; leaving me reeling and wondering what I’d done wrong to have karma treat me so badly. I was offered the world (on an air cargo budget) and I took it. A huge pay raise, an even larger territory and a goal of developing a crack sales force to cover it, all of them reporting to me. Ha Ha I was now to be the boss.
Of a single sales representative it would turn out, who apparently never quit his last position with one of my competitors thereby collecting at least 2 paychecks and doing little work for either. That would be the beginning of the end for my successful management career. Shortly after this bomb hit, the entire national sales force was restructured, fired (laid off is much more politically correct but less honest) and replaced with people at the corporate office in Santa Clara, California.
I’ve bounced around the Chicago Air cargo job market a tad bit in the 3 years since not really feeling like I fit in here in the Midwest. My personal life is less than enviable as I’ve developed no truly close friends in my more than five years here. I have friends, but none that would remove my collection of porn, fetish wear and toys (FYI, It is all in my closet and night stand, be sure to check the cabinets as well.) before my parents come to claim my belongings (oh and don’t forget the computer porn and the CD’s in the cabinet above my desk), should my body be discovered in some alleyway (I’m sure it would be in a compromising position. I just have a feeling is all…). I picture my body being found wrapped in saran wrap and duct tape, hooded and gagged when they find it. But that is a story for a different time.
All of this negative movement in the past 5 years has truly affected my ego, leaving me feeling like Farah Fawcett just before she set her husband’s character on fire in that now infamous made for television movie, “The Burning Bed”. Beaten, bruised, and begging for it to all just stop. So I’m now shopping for kerosene. I’m ready to burn the bed that is my life here in Chicago.
Think warm thoughts for me. The warmer the better to start a fire.
August 22, 2005
Come back to the 5 and 10 Barbara
I’ve realized that you people, my beloved tens of readers, have slowly stopped visiting BeyondBuffalo.com. This pains me. So I sat around my lovely apartment all of last week pondering what to do to gain back your love, to renew your adoration for my words and life tales. This calls for rash action on my part. Something needs to happen to regain your love. Ever the “pleaser”, I’ve taken it upon myself to solve this problem. Here are some of my thoughts (so far). Feel free to share which solution you would like to see.
I thought about offering an array of wonderful parting gifts for each person that took the time to visit me and read about my life (such as it is). I decided against this due to the trouble of finding corporations stupid gullible enough to donate gifts/services towards my worthy cause. Besides I couldn’t figure out who actually makes Rice-a-Roni.
I thought about perhaps promising to compromise myself for my art and sleep visit with each of you and buy you a coffee with the funds available to me on my Starbucks Card. I was forced to disregard this option due to the fact that my Starbucks Card currently has $0.53 available which, truth be told, I would rather use towards my own morning cup of coffee.
For one brief moment, I considered renting out Richard Branson’s private island and whisking all my readers off for a week of pampered luxury in the Caribbean paradise. Unfortunately, Mr. Branson’s private island is booked up thru the end of the year. (I checked)
So what do I do?
Perhaps, just perhaps, I should return to my core concept and maybe entertain you once again. Come up with some witty, alternative view of my world (and yours, we all share this planet Mr. Shrub. There’s no reason to be so selfish.)
I believe my solution will be to add more descriptive adjectives and adverbs into my writing style. I’ll take a page from Ms. Sandra Bernhard and describe everything to its most unlikely and absurdly minute detail. You’ll know all about the color, the smell, the brand, and the taste of everything I encounter. For you, my dear readers, I’ll lick everything I come into contact with. I love you that much.
I must warn you that I’m slightly color blind, so my descriptions of color may be a tad bit off. Oh and my medicine gives me horrible dry mouth, so the taste will be ever so slightly skewed as well. I should probably also point out that I have horrible allergies which effect my sense of smell thus rendering all scents a tad bit off.
I promise, however, to do my best to share with you the true senses of my life. For you, my readers, I’ll do this.
I Need Love you that much!
August 15, 2005
trudging on
After spending a great day with Tom shopping for the Vodka I sampled in Vancouver, and not finding it, we hit a few more stores. Tom really helped to get my mind off that thing that happened Saturday night. Another thing that helped was his non-stop litany of jokes repeated from the movie “The Aristocrats” we had seen Friday night after work. I won’t go into it, but if you like raunchy humor, this is the movie for you. Pay special attention to Sara Silverman and her segment.
Even with the distractions, there were lingering thoughts poking thru from time to time. I’m pretty much past it. I’d admitted I was scared, but there was more. There was a sense of guilt for not having stood up for myself, embarrassment that I let myself get into that situation in the first place, and moments of laughing at my reactions to the situation while it was happening. For instance, when he was trying to reach me by going around the sign, he dropped his CD Player, the CD popped out and bounced across the platform. Me, ever the helpful person, stopped to point out that his CD player had fallen, momentarily attempted to assist picking it up, before I realized that this was the time to make my get away as he was scrambling for his CD. I completely forgot that I am 6’5” (ish) tall and could have probably scared him more with my height and size than he did me had I been more aggressive with him. No, I felt like I was the wimp of my high school football team being thrown into the garbage can after practice again. I felt small like a little kid afraid to stand up for himself because he never thought he should get into fights.
This morning as I was sitting at my desk working, (yes I worked today) I had another thought. Who did I call when I needed to be calmed and comforted? Three days have passed and I have yet to pick up the telephone to inform any member of my blood family. No, I called Padre (for his spiritual ness) and TLBO, cause well I always go to TLBO when I need to be truly comforted. For all his ADHD faults, he has always been there for me when I really needed him.
When TLBO and I were roommates, and I apologize if I’ve already written about this, he was a joy to share a house with. I cannot count the number of Friday afternoons where I would pull into the driveway and hear Gloria Estefan blaring from the windows of the house, only to find TLBO cleaning and vacuuming in his red cha cha heels. If I ever hear Gloria, Whitney, Maria, or J-Lo, I am immediately transported back to the year we spent in that little house in San Francisco. As an example of how TLBO was always looking out for my best interests, let me share with you how he handled telling me sensitive information.
I arrived home from work where he met me at the door, took my hand and led me to the couch in the living room. He sat me down and pressed a Xanax or some anti-anxiety medication into my hand, gave me a glass of water and informed me he’d be back in a few minutes when that had kicked in. Minutes later, he returned with a serious look on his face, and he joined me on the couch, held my hand and told me that we were being evicted from the house because our landlady wanted to move back into her own house.
He always told me better living through modern medicine.
Thank you all for your concern and words of well wishes. They mean a lot to me.