Showing posts with label Job hunting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Job hunting. Show all posts

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Demons for just 99c!

Art by Natalie Sau.
I am officially jobless. Which is fine, as I needed a bit of rest, and I'll be on unemployment benefits for a while. Hopefully I'll find something else. Of course the unemployment benefits are not much, but I can't complain. It's more than the money I'd get for working part-time.

Other than that, my very good friend Lizbeth Gabriel has her published book, the Theater of Dusk, on offer until the end of the month! She excels at describing some pretty dark relationships and situations, like murder, betrayal, death, suicide, but there is also humour. If you need some paranormal romance, vampires, demons, angels of Death and so on, you can have them for 99c. If you prefer a physical book, you can buy one on Create Space or on Amazon. The first option is giving her a bit more money and offers cheaper postage than Amazon, so I suggest it. Here is a video review of her book:

As the reviewer says, her stories have a strong emotional impact that stays with the reader for long, so please give her a go. You will not be disappointed, promise.

Other than that, I am selling more of my stamp albums on Ebay. You can find all the items I have for sale on Ebay here. Please take a look and help me increase my funds. The stray cats I feed need food nightly, and I can't explain to them I no longer have a job. Thanks for looking! :)

Sunday, June 05, 2016

Excellent articles for your hungry brains

I am going to publish the links of some excellent articles I've come across in the past months. They have helped me think or put in words what I know it's true, but can't really express it. Read as many as you like. They are all very good.

These two focus on the latest plague of the internet, people's "opinion". For some reason, a part of the population considers their opinion to be something equal to Holy Truth, and they get angry when others point out that just because they are entitled to an opinion, doesn't mean they are right.

Or, to put it in another way:

Next thorny subject: self-improvement. Nope, a six-pack will not make you magically attractive to your preferred sex. Read why. 

And one more for the ages: Passion, finding your passion, and what to do with your life.


Sunday, July 26, 2015

Vile threats and magick-made porn movies

My left shoulder is stiff and sore, and has been so for the past two days. Today was the worst. Every time I tried to move it or turn my head, I was getting muscular spasms that made me groan.  I got the stiff shoulder after a thorough house cleansing. Should I be scared of what kind of old energies I shifted? :) Counterpain ointment will heal all ills and drive the mosquitoes away as a bonus. The smell would drive me, too, out of the room, if I wasn't firmly attached to the shoulder I apply it on.

Last night I was sending out CVs again. It is a ‘delightful’ pastime.  I was reading the ad titles trying to decipher whether the job is something worth applying to/ I have the necessary knowledge to do it. Many ads have the word ‘administrator’ in the title. Recruitment administrator, Payroll Administrator, Sales Support Administrator, Order Processing Administrator, Senior Administrator, Compliance Administrator… From a point onwards I started reading out loud and replacing words. Cunt Administrator, Bollocks administrator, Dick Administrator, Butt Administrator, Boob Administrator, Pube Administrator. It was 2 in the a.m., and I realised I was reciting a litany of anatomical parts and swearwords and sticking the word ‘administrator’ after every single one of them. I started laughing with the absurdity of it, and the absurdity of looking for a job for seven months and not finding one, and the stupidity of human existence and the mess we have made out of everything. Society, money, politics, war, it’s all a gigantic bollocks of a mess, and I honestly wonder why I bother. Right now the European Union is tearing my country apart, turning it to shreds and bloody bits and ashes, and I can do absolutely nothing to stop it. I can’t even help myself.  I know, that’s not what the media tell you. The media also don’t say anything about the thousands of people who have committed suicide because of their debts, the hospitals who have no medicine, the families who have no electricity, the 60% unemployment in people under 30, the 30.000 jobs and companies who have gone out of business, the fact we are expected to pass a whole month with a 400 euro wage while the expenses are at least double. Don’t listen to the media. They lie. 

I wish I could work some serious black magick and execute a few of the present European leaders. I wouldn’t take credit. I’d do it for the heck of it, because someone needs to do it. For the despair and misery of millions worldwide while fat, bloated leeches of leaders shake their finger and accuse us we’re not trying hard enough. For the waves of desperate refugees drowning in the Mediterranean with the ‘help’ of coastal police, that sinks their boats. For the guy who is beaten to his death in an alley because he had the bad luck to be born with the wrong skin colour. For the teenage whore with the dead eyes whose pimp is forcing her to sleep with twenty people every night, and whose entire life was one foster home after another, a responsibility no-one wanted. For the small girl who is held down by others while someone severs her clitoris with a piece of broken glass. For the dog they take when it’s a cute puppy and then abandon like trash. For every single one of you, with a breath and a conscience, whose names I don’t know, whose tears water this earth non-stop, I’d kill them. Fuck karma. Fuck consequences. I don’t care. If they don’t care, neither should I. They are not human anyway. They are scum. They are bipedal leeches who rule and destroy the lives of millions. Someone needs to squash those disgusting creatures, step on them and then scrape off the remains and throw them away, or even better, burn them in a bonfire.

Lately a ‘friend’ of mine comes to mind, and some things she said to me. Instead for apologising for being the scheming, shit-hearted, petty, envious cunt that she is, she had the nerve to accuse me on top. I guess she is lucky I have a good hold on my dark side. If I didn’t, by the time they got her off my hands she’s need full facial reconstruction.

Do you hear me, you fucking cunt? I am out for your blood. No more freebies. You and the rest of your side, you’re going to hear from me very soon. You’ve gotten away with too much for too long. Time to pay the bill. It’s going to hurt. I am going to fuck you to the moon and back. I hope you enjoy stargazing while a porn movie is happening to your arse. 

On that happy note, I advice you all to watch Sense8. It’s an excellent series. Makes you feel human and alive.
Off to bed. 

Monday, December 15, 2014

Learning Excel online

Perfect example of an elven king tailor-made for the purpose I describe below: Thranduil from the Hobbit.
It mostly hurts after a while. It feels like someone is repeatedly rubbing half onions on my back. I want to do something else than clicking on boxes, calculating sums and dragging ranges. Like a good girl, I suck it up and sigh. And dream of elven kings with long blond hair, who are so snobbish even dust avoids settling on them, fearing their disapproval. As a way to blow off steam, I dream that I am chasing the aforesaid king on horseback. In a field full of brambles. And he is terrified, on foot and wearing absolutely nothing. And I am holding a flogging stick and hit him for extra encouragement. There's probably a hapless human in there too, and I am sure he or she is the creator of Excel. They are an easy target; sooner or later they will collapse inside a bramble bush, and I'll leave them to find the way out on their own. So the elven king runs for dear life, his testicles dangling about like a meaty pendulum, his penis making a flapping sound against his thighs, his wide back golden pink in colour and full of crisscrossing red welts, his legs covered in scratches, his firm, muscular butt poetry in motion, and I yell like a banshee from the back of my horse. Run, motherfucker, run! Run because when I catch you I'll have a distinguished elven aristocrat for supper and guess what, you'll be the main course! 

If I keep going, I am pretty certain eventually he will stumble and fall. I hope he lands face first on a pile of horse or bear shit. And rest assured I'll jump off the horse and step on his head to make it sink deeper in it.
(What do you mean this is just too cruel? It's a mating ritual. You wouldn't understand. The way these fuckers pose and their behaviour manages to tickle all the wrong anatomical bits of me, unfortunately together with the right ones.) 

The reason my basic hero in that other story (/book/ trilogy/ saga) is a dark elf, is that they usually are stronger, faster, and more vicious than any pure-blooded, arrogant, belonging to a superior race and blessed by the gods elf. And they have absolutely no qualms about punching those arrogant dickbags in the face and bloodying their perfect noses. In fact there's nothing they, or their maker, would enjoy more than that. So I cackle with glee and go back to learning Excel. Maybe one day I'll write that story. Maybe not. Let me finish with what I'm halfway through first, and we'll see about that.

Here is the site I am using to learn Excel, if you feel like torturing yourselves:
And here are some more Thranduil photos in case you want to have a better look. ;)

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

A sincere cover letter

I am trying to write a cover letter to include with my CV. It's one of the most boring activities someone can engage in, with advanced accounting and being whipped to build an Egyptian pyramid being marginally worse. I am tempted to write a sincere cover letter praising all my unique and amazing abilities, like being able to discover all the petting spots that turn cats into goo, writing good porn with just about any gender and species involved, regularly producing farts of outstanding potency and duration, and being able to make successful divination with a thesaurus. The more I struggle with inane templates of cover letters and all the pompous statements they contain, the more facial ticks I develop. So here is a cover letter guaranteed to land you the dream job you were always looking for, or a place in jail and one hell of a reputation.

Dear Sir/ Madam,

I am writing to apply for the position of Exalted Asslicker in your prestigious company of nitwits and attention whores.

I am a unique and highly resourceful individual, managing to stay out of jail although I can't pay any of my bills due to the current political situation. I am a fast learner, competent in bullshitting or threatening to have it my way, and adaptable to any situation, including zombie apocalypse. In my last job we were adequately trained in shooting the delivery boy and one of the accountants if they were late. I can cope with a vast range of administrative tasks while balancing a waffle with ice-cream on my left ear and juggling with living piranha. I am fully capable of prioritizing my workload, putting porn and masturbation on top and leaving office work for the clerk I am blackmailing with photos of his current affair. I am motivated by cocaine and fueled by speed, have a gangster attitude and love learning new skills, like ritualistic sacrifice, taxidermy and shibari (Japanese bondage). My communication skills are excellent; everyone does as I say or find themselves swimming in the nearest large body of water wearing cement shoes. I can fulfill a variety of roles due to my numerous interpersonal skills. I prefer Dominatrix, but I also double as a bodyguard and negotiations expert, because my plasma cannon is way bigger than yours.

I believe that every problem is unique and needs to be handled as such, applying both past experience and new ideas to tackle it successfully. I am in constant contact with hit men of different nationalities and most mafia organizations. I am also discreet with personal information and can handle a range of possible situations, from blackmail to murder.

I am well versed in the use of the written word in a variety of subjects and occasions, from ransom notes to political manifestos. I am fully capable of adapting to given guidelines and improvising according to circumstance and need, moderately good at wording contract loopholes and fully proficient in forging. I am also highly skilled in planning, customer communication, and handling all the different tasks and challenges of a busy office environment, such as hidden landmines, possessed managers and drug addicted presidents. I am keen on meeting with new challenges and expanding my professional horizons with a reputable company like yours. I believe that I will prove myself to be a valuable asset to your team, or I will make sure there isn't a hole deep enough to save yourselves from my wrath if you don't hire me. 

In my free time I am an astrophysicist and a neurosurgeon. I love recreational drugs and occasionally run the gatherings of the local Freemasonry organisation, including minute taking of their plans to take over the world with the assistance of Pinky and the Brain. 

I’m looking forward to learning more about this position and what it entails. I would greatly appreciate the opportunity of speaking with you at your earliest convenience, via e-mail or phone. Thank you for your time and consideration. And psssst, nudge nudge. If you hire me, the girls for stress alleviation and the office cleaners are on me.

Sincerely and/or not bothering much,

Elizabeth Armpit.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Officially beat and writing fan-fiction.

 Australian flying foxes (species of bats) . All together now: AAAAAAAWWWWWWW!

Running around like mad today. I am glad I managed to get things done. But, presently I feel that awkward combination of tiredness, being hyper and restless and craving something I can't get my finger on.

Oh, I actually can get my finger on it just fine, I just can't have what I want, thank you very much.
I do wish I had the same unshakable resolve when it came to eating sweets. I wouldn't look the way I do.

This is a combination of all the wrong things creating a nice potent combination of melancholy, arousal, useless passion and low self-esteem. I do like myself, very much in fact. Enough to dislike most people I come across because their moral code is not as strict as mine. I do not judge them. I just do not like them and know I can expect very little from them. At the same time I am perfectly aware of my own faults and the cracks in my own mask of so-called perfection. I am an unlikely combination of a misanthrope joined at the hip with an altruist. Most of the time I want to rebuild this world, and then there are times I just want to destroy it all, crush it under my heel and let nature, gods or chance sort the mess out. I see right through most humans I come across, and I am bored, and sick of them, sick of life, bored of death, simultaneously uncaring and desperate, perpetually thirsty and locked up and unavailable like the goddamn frost maiden, sick of myself and clinging onto myself like a baby at its dead mother's tit.

I am just tired, and nothing will change unless I get off my ass and change it.
The trouble is that I am scared out of my wits, absolutely terrified of what will happen if I even try.
I do try. Baby steps, tiny little baby steps, little by little. Better than no steps at all.
I get discouraged every two to three steps. I think I will never make it, never go anywhere, never reach any safe place. Just remain stuck here.

I write fan fiction to quench my thirst for the unattainable.I have no other solution. I write my own version of marriages made in hell and my insolent fingers play all the cords of all the wrong characters like they are harps. I toy with them from a safe distance and pretty much write like there are demons on my heels. Twelve thousand words in just three days and I am not done yet. You see, there are indeed demons on my heels. They are called CV, job finding, and the rest of that unhappy lot. Give me villains, serial killers, the cream of lunatics. None of them terrifies me as much as the word 'resume'. Give me man-eating men and monsters, give me sadists, pedophiles, the lowest of the low. Anything you want. I will write it for you and make it rock your world, or even better, write it and rock my world till my titties are salsa-dancing. Just keep the job search and the CV editing away from me. I am absolutely terrified. 
I head back to my fan-fiction. I am writing this for myself, I say, and yet I can't help not share with my best friend. She is the only one who will not call me weak and stupid, will ignore my improvisations and not judge me.

Even monsters need a friend. Even gods of death need a home. Everyone needs to belong somewhere, to a person, place, or the memory of one.

By the way, I have not forgotten you. I still expect a letter from you. Then I remember you are gone. And the God of Death comes and gives to that knife stuck in my gut that charming extra twist.
I have so very, very few friends. The tiniest portion of humans manage to pass the threshold into my heart and every single one of them is not treated as a friend, but as a small miracle.
In your case, someone decided to take the miracle back.
I am patient. I will dig that little bastard out and sooner or later I'll be the one holding the knife.
The pen is mightier than the sword indeed.