Blogged down

I haven't been feeling the bloggy bug lately. It could be that I no longer have thoughts about issues. Maybe that whole politically aware thing was just a phase, like the eating-raw-spaghetti-sticks urge. Maybe I can't think clearly because it's a blistering inferno here in my cave from whence I blog. Maybe I'm bumfuzzled by the cosmic imbalance that has--after six months of dead silence--resulted in three different organizations calling to set up interviews in as many days. I have suddenly become a Catch in the D.C. employment arena, and this is quite unsettling to me, as I had grown quite comfortable and accustomed to my prior status as a Leper. I can't help but eye these offers suspiciously. "Did my Mother call you?" I want to ask. "Is Oprah in on this?" Is it some grand scheme to elevate my self esteem? Whatever it is, it needs to put up or shut up. Interviewers are tons of fun on their own, sure, but if they don't make any progress on getting me out of my cave here in products liability land, I'll be none too pleased. Phew! How's that for a spoiled brat sense of entitlement? I've become an expert on that particular topic of late, you see, after reading cover letters of youngsters applying for legal assistant positions with the following content:

Dear [Chairman of Big Bad Law Firm]:

Hi! My name is [Spoiled Daddy's Girl Buffy]. As you know, you are a [Snooty-ass Yankee School] alumnus. Wow! Isn't that weird? So am I!! You know what's even weirder, so is my Daddy! And he's a lawyer too! Gosh. Oh, anyway, I'm looking for a job before I have Daddy get me into law school. He needs a little time to get things arranged, and somebody's using our condo in Cabo this year, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to try working. So thanks. Oh, and I was in the Spanish Club.

Stay Sweet,
[Candy]


Adding insult to injury, this young lady reportedly yawned her way through her whole interview, and even checked her watch at one point to report "I need to leave in ten minutes to go catch a train." Naturally she'll be starting here after matriculating.

Come on, phone. Ring again....