Further Adventures in Car Ownership Borrowing

It was bound to happen eventually. After the Chicken Grease Incident of Aught Eight, my grandmother's car has suffered another injustice.

Its first parking ticket.

Which would have been fine if I'd forgotten about street cleaning, or if I'd left the car parked in a resident spot downtown. But it was just sitting in what I thought was a perfectly legal spot at the top of my street. When I'd parked it yesterday, I noticed it was a little close to the crosswalk, but moved it up later that night.

Apparently, I didn't shift forward far enough. When I went to get the car this afternoon, it had the bright orange ticket on the windshield. It accused me of parking within 20 feet of an intersection.

Not to sound like an entitled brat, but this is total B.S., Somerville. People park in that spot all the time and don't get ticketed. Twenty feet would put me halfway down the block. And it's not like my place is in a big intersection—there's plenty of room for cars to navigate. Is it my out-of-state plates? Some bored cop decided to make a quick buck on my dwindling dollars?

Sigh. Just another expense for my unemployed ass.

Unemployed Dancing Fools

Over a couple of beers the other night, a fellow unemployed layabout and I decided that while we're in-between jobs, we should learn the dance from Beyonce's "Single Ladies" video.

Beyoncé‚ Knowles - Single Ladies
Video
Envoyé par mohzer sur wat.tv

Neither of us have any sense of grace. How hard could it possibly be?

But it got me thinking about all the other popular dances I've attempted to learn in my life. As a teenager, there was the bondage-lite classic, "If" by Janet Jackson.



But I never could get the arms and legs to move in unison. Nor could I find a strapping bald guy to dangle from the ceiling at the tender age of 13.

Even a white girl from the suburbs managed to pull this one off.



But this would completely end me. For real.



However, I feel completely comfortable with all the moves displayed in this classic scene. Especially the hopping from side to side while shaking my head. I'm a big fan of that one.



If I can do the Peanuts dance, certainly I can handle "Single Ladies." Right?

Can We Form a Boston Chapter of ASSME?

Shoot. Looks like I might need to make a trip to New York next week for this wonderful event.

Open bars are de riguer at media parties, and they're just about the only fringe benefit of working in this godforsaken industry. But what happens when the parties themselves start to disappear, like what's happening this holiday season? NO MORE FREE BOOZE! Portfolio's Mixed Media reports that there is a new group called "ASSME: the American Society of Shitcanned Media Elites"—which I guess I should probably join—that will carry on the noble tradition of an open bar in season where everyone else is a god-damned Scrooge. If you're laid-off and broke, you can still keep on drinking—at least for one magical night.

Come on, Boston media elite. Let's form our own chapter of this much-needed club. Between my laid-off ass, Bob Lobel, the printing press workers at the Herald, and the bought-out staffers of the Globe, it would be quite a time.

Less Talking to Reporters, More Talking to the Unemployed

At times like this, I wish I had the new media know-how to splice footage of me watching this WBZ report about the taxed employees of the state's unemployment call centers.

"It takes the kind of person who looks at people like they're people [to do the job]," one woman tells the WBZ reporter.

Yeah, somebody should have told that to the completely unhelpful person who filed my claim a couple of weeks ago.

"Behind every call is someone who is unemployed. And this is their lifeline to the desperately-needed check," the reporter voices-over.

Hey, lady—if it's so damn important, let the workers you interview answer the phone. I called yesterday to get some help on how to claim my severance payment, and I was told to call back because the operators were too busy. So stop asking these people if they cry or pray for the teeming refuse of which I am part, and let them take a call.

I expect to see these people working like children in one of Kathie Lee Gifford's sweatshops. Ten minute lunches, nine hour days, and only one day off per week. Either that, or hire some new people to help ease the load. As more people lose their jobs, these staffers will need all the help they can get to explain the confusing process of collecting unemployment in Massachusetts to callers.

Ellen In Prime Time!

There are two things I really like unemployment. One, I can get up an hour and a half later than I did when I was working. Two, I get to watch Ellen.

I'm sure I've waxed poetic about how Ellen DeGeneres approaches problems with her dry sense of humor and doesn't preach and yell like some talk show doyennes I could name, Oprah. For instance, Ellen just pointed out that Saran Wrap and aluminum foil boxes have little tabs to keep the rolls in place. I seriously had no clue.

When I mentioned my love for Ellen on Facebook yesterday, one of my friends added that it was one of her favorite parts of maternity leave (the other being her new child). I then suggested that Ellen should be moved to prime time so those few people who still have jobs can watch it.

I think the idea could totally work. NBC has given Jay Leno a prime-time talk show to keep him from making a move to a competing network. God knows the only good programs during prime time nowadays are 30 Rock, How I Met Your Mother, and Gossip Girl. There's still plenty of time for a prime-time talk show, networks. I don't want to miss my fix of dancing comediennes once I get a new gig.

I'm totally going to start a petition to move Ellen to prime-time. Not like I have anything else to do today.

Today's Unemployment Winner and Loser

Winner: The Globe's Names Column

Despite the relentless teasing I gave Boston's broadsheet during my tenure at BoMag, Paysha Rhone very kindly gave me a hat-tip in today's report. And even linked to this blog! Stay strong, my jounalist brethren.

Loser: Sallie Mae

The nation's unemployment rate has hit 6.7 percent last month. (Look, Mom, I'm a statistic!) Certainly debt-saddled college graduates like myself have been calling the company for help. I finally decided to bite the bullet today and ask for my payments to be delayed until I get a new gig.

Turns out, the company charges a $150 fee to defer the loans (which is the equivalent of one of my monthly payments), and then only gives a three month respite.

Three months?! In the biggest recession of my lifetime? Even the cash-strapped government has extended unemployment benefits. I think the company is going to have to reconsider that course of action. Or else we're going to see Sallie's executives looking for a bailout as all us unemployed young professional default on our loans because of their merciless repayment rules.

Hell, even my landlord said she's willing to work with me if I need to break my lease or can't make my rent. And she has something tangible she can take away from me.

My Key to Happiness

Today's Globe reports that happiness is like that horrible Haley Joel Osment movie, Pay It Forward. In that if you are happy and hang around with happy people, the feeling gets magnified and you go out and hunt some bison. Or something.

Since I am a woman who just lost her job and was living paycheck to paycheck to begin with, you'd think my gainfully employed friends would be avoiding me like the plague as I wrangle with my finances and become miserable. But I'm actually feeling pretty good. At least until I have to figure out how to pay my rent and bills on my dwindling severance funds.

Why? Because unlike you still-working suckers, I know I'm screwed.

The past few weeks have been hell for one of my friends as she copes with rumors that layoffs are coming. One rumor said her department was safe, then another came along and said none would be entirely spared the misery. She needed to develop a Plan B, then abandoned it when she learned she'd be keeping her job. For now.

Over on Morrissey Boulevard, they're bracing for a contentious meeting about possible pay cuts and layoffs. (My favorite part of the memo Adam Reilly blogged? "Is ‘collaboration’ blindsiding BNG members with layoffs three weeks before Thanksgiving?" Some publications in this town do it two days before the holiday. Which was actually OK, because I got those extra days of pay.)

So if you're miserable because you're doing a ton of work for a pittance because you're afraid you'll lose your job if you don't, drop me a line. If you buy me a drink and some food, I'll bring my happy self to you and spread the unemployment joy your way. Because I'm a giver. And looking to cut down on my grocery bill.