wojr - words, occasionally sentences
Saturday, April 03, 2004
REALLY BAD POETRY FOR THOSE SATURDAY MORNINGS
NOTHING TO RHYME WITH EYE-BOOGERS
Morning sunlight
On the floor
Newspaper print
On my fingers
Coffee rings
On the table
Stubble
On my chin
Stamp from the bar
On the back of my hand
Lipstick
On the collar
Alcohol
On my breath
Grin
On my face
Notch
On my belt
Eyes
On the clock
Feet
On the way out the door
Love
Nowhere to be found
wojr
NOTHING TO RHYME WITH EYE-BOOGERS
Morning sunlight
On the floor
Newspaper print
On my fingers
Coffee rings
On the table
Stubble
On my chin
Stamp from the bar
On the back of my hand
Lipstick
On the collar
Alcohol
On my breath
Grin
On my face
Notch
On my belt
Eyes
On the clock
Feet
On the way out the door
Love
Nowhere to be found
wojr
Labels: My Writing
Friday, April 02, 2004
THE LFP INTERVIEW - CONCLUSION
Click here for Part One
Click here for Part Two
Click here for Part Three
When we last left our intrepid interviewee, wojr was being led deeper into the inner sanctum of the Larry Flynt empire by his guide, a ridiculously tiny Asian man with sweaty palms and a massive wedgie. On their trek to the elevator, the pair maneuvered their way through the commonplace office, staffed by extremely short men and impossibly attractive women.
(And we'll now stop talking about wojr in the third person.)
As we finally made it to the elevator, I am again forced to shake Wang's hand in our awkward parting ceremony. They are expecting me upstairs and Wang has work to do down here. I must continue on my lonesome.
As it says above, the floor I was on, while a little too populated with porn magazines, was still a commonplace office. It really could have been the offices for any number of corporations (as long as you confiscated the nudie books).
However, when I got off that elevator, well, the offices stopped being ordinary. I was stepping into the extraordinary, as in extraordinarily BAD TASTE. Now, I had seen the movie, The People vs. Larry Flynt. I saw how his deceased wife, Althea (who was rather fond of the mind-altering narcotics), designed the offices. I thought I knew what to expect.
However..
It was like being confronted with Death. In that, until you lose someone close to you, you can never fully grasp the true scope of death. Until you are actually confronted with such bad taste, you can never really appreciate the full scope of it as well.
Everywhere I looked were garish combinations of various cultures and designs - statues of Greek goddesses standing next to Buddha standing next to a Samurai Warrior all with a pink Marble backdrop. Large columns lined the hall with even more beautiful receptionists placed in front of them, one for every bigwig's office. No wonder Wang didn't accompany me up here - the sight of these ladies might have sent him on a masturbation frenzy.
One of these receptionist goddesses led me into the conference room. Instructing me that the CFO would be in shortly, the pretty lady presented me with a cup of coffee and left me to bask in my surroundings. Now, I've been to Graceland and marveled at Elvis's bad taste. However, Graceland does not hold a candle to this room. Imagine Elvis and Liberace having a gay lovechild that grew up to be interior decorator for funeral parlors. That man could have only dreamed of constructing such a room. Not only did a nude painting of Althea adorn the wall, but the varied statue motif continued in here as well. More samurais and Buddhas joined Kali, the goddess of death, to keep an eye on me. Also, a giant gong rested off to one side. That's something every business conference room needs, a gong. Don't like a presentation, bang the gong. Unhappy with this quarter's financial projections, bang the gong. All they needed was Jaime Farr & the Unknown Comic and I might have thought I was on the, hold on - wait for it - you know it's coming - Gong Show.
After waiting for a half hour, the CFO finally decides to grace me with his presence. Now, I hate judging people as stereotypes (almost as much as I hate having to wait for someone at an interview), but sometimes a person so encapsulates a stereotype that you have to wonder how they got that way. But if you had to cast someone in the role of Tiny Bitter Jewish Moneylender, this guy is your ideal. This bitter little man strolls in with no intention of hiding the fact that he feels like his time is being wasted. In his mind, he is a big powerful man despite the fact that he could buy his clothes in the kiddie section, When he gruffly sits down across from me, I thank whatever deity is watching over us that I do not want this job. I get to have fun.
At that point in time, I was employed for the complete opposite of Hustler, a Catholic homeless shelter catering to runaways age 18-21. As he sees this on my resume, his first question ushers forth, "Why would want to go from a place like that to here?" Giving the room a quick glance (making sure I give Althea's ta-tas a gander, may she rest in piece), I issue my response -->
"Definitely for the décor."
And I get nothing. No chuckle, no smile, just bitterness and the confirmation that I would never work for a man like that. The interview continues for another ten or fifteen minutes and I take my leave - And the tiny CFO was able to continue hiring men as small as he was.
The headhunter is disappointed when I tell her that I couldn't work at place like that, but she is taken back when I ask if Playboy is hiring. Hey, I need to get to Hef's place before I die. Maybe I should make friends with Scott Baio. Yeah, that might work.
wojr
Click here for Part One
Click here for Part Two
Click here for Part Three
When we last left our intrepid interviewee, wojr was being led deeper into the inner sanctum of the Larry Flynt empire by his guide, a ridiculously tiny Asian man with sweaty palms and a massive wedgie. On their trek to the elevator, the pair maneuvered their way through the commonplace office, staffed by extremely short men and impossibly attractive women.
(And we'll now stop talking about wojr in the third person.)
As we finally made it to the elevator, I am again forced to shake Wang's hand in our awkward parting ceremony. They are expecting me upstairs and Wang has work to do down here. I must continue on my lonesome.
As it says above, the floor I was on, while a little too populated with porn magazines, was still a commonplace office. It really could have been the offices for any number of corporations (as long as you confiscated the nudie books).
However, when I got off that elevator, well, the offices stopped being ordinary. I was stepping into the extraordinary, as in extraordinarily BAD TASTE. Now, I had seen the movie, The People vs. Larry Flynt. I saw how his deceased wife, Althea (who was rather fond of the mind-altering narcotics), designed the offices. I thought I knew what to expect.
However..
It was like being confronted with Death. In that, until you lose someone close to you, you can never fully grasp the true scope of death. Until you are actually confronted with such bad taste, you can never really appreciate the full scope of it as well.
Everywhere I looked were garish combinations of various cultures and designs - statues of Greek goddesses standing next to Buddha standing next to a Samurai Warrior all with a pink Marble backdrop. Large columns lined the hall with even more beautiful receptionists placed in front of them, one for every bigwig's office. No wonder Wang didn't accompany me up here - the sight of these ladies might have sent him on a masturbation frenzy.
One of these receptionist goddesses led me into the conference room. Instructing me that the CFO would be in shortly, the pretty lady presented me with a cup of coffee and left me to bask in my surroundings. Now, I've been to Graceland and marveled at Elvis's bad taste. However, Graceland does not hold a candle to this room. Imagine Elvis and Liberace having a gay lovechild that grew up to be interior decorator for funeral parlors. That man could have only dreamed of constructing such a room. Not only did a nude painting of Althea adorn the wall, but the varied statue motif continued in here as well. More samurais and Buddhas joined Kali, the goddess of death, to keep an eye on me. Also, a giant gong rested off to one side. That's something every business conference room needs, a gong. Don't like a presentation, bang the gong. Unhappy with this quarter's financial projections, bang the gong. All they needed was Jaime Farr & the Unknown Comic and I might have thought I was on the, hold on - wait for it - you know it's coming - Gong Show.
After waiting for a half hour, the CFO finally decides to grace me with his presence. Now, I hate judging people as stereotypes (almost as much as I hate having to wait for someone at an interview), but sometimes a person so encapsulates a stereotype that you have to wonder how they got that way. But if you had to cast someone in the role of Tiny Bitter Jewish Moneylender, this guy is your ideal. This bitter little man strolls in with no intention of hiding the fact that he feels like his time is being wasted. In his mind, he is a big powerful man despite the fact that he could buy his clothes in the kiddie section, When he gruffly sits down across from me, I thank whatever deity is watching over us that I do not want this job. I get to have fun.
At that point in time, I was employed for the complete opposite of Hustler, a Catholic homeless shelter catering to runaways age 18-21. As he sees this on my resume, his first question ushers forth, "Why would want to go from a place like that to here?" Giving the room a quick glance (making sure I give Althea's ta-tas a gander, may she rest in piece), I issue my response -->
"Definitely for the décor."
And I get nothing. No chuckle, no smile, just bitterness and the confirmation that I would never work for a man like that. The interview continues for another ten or fifteen minutes and I take my leave - And the tiny CFO was able to continue hiring men as small as he was.
The headhunter is disappointed when I tell her that I couldn't work at place like that, but she is taken back when I ask if Playboy is hiring. Hey, I need to get to Hef's place before I die. Maybe I should make friends with Scott Baio. Yeah, that might work.
wojr
Labels: My Writing, Nostalgia, Sex, Snide Remarks
Don't View It As A Work Week - Just Think of It As Selling Your Soul in FIVE DAY BATCHES
Donald Duck - The R. Kelly of the Magical World of Disney!
HAPPY 5PM FRIDAY EVERYONE!
wojr
Donald Duck - The R. Kelly of the Magical World of Disney!
HAPPY 5PM FRIDAY EVERYONE!
wojr
Labels: 5PMSendoff, Snide Remarks
Friday Morning Potpourri
In response to the bathroom etiquette dilemma, the only and most entertaining response came from Ryan "the Redneck" Cordwell:
Leave the shit wide ass open, no need to close.
Theres no doors on urinals, just 2 walls on the side,
same for the stall if ya pissing. As for the [euphemism for men who crave the penis],
there ain't too many in SC, so I really can't
say....Just keep 'em all in Cali though....
I think he might have been sipping the hooch when he wrote that.
On a serious note though, I posted another story on the website - The Ineffectual Man. This bad boy doesn't really fall into one of my preset categories. Basically, it is a short scene/film script, but one that I crafted so it could easily be turned into a short stage or comic piece. It's about a character that I will use again in the future - just need to find the time. Any and all comments are always welcomed.
Lastly, the hurricane known as Bronc will hit the left coast this weekend. So, after the finale of the LFP Interview today, my posts might be sporadic if not drunken in nature. (Rosie would probably think they would be funnier from my intoxicated state, but he likes the cruder humor. (How could it get cruder? Oh, it can.))
Of course, Bronc might just kill me as soon as he lands for all the Tigershark action figure posts. So, if there is no word from me by Monday, please call 911.
Thanks-
wojr
In response to the bathroom etiquette dilemma, the only and most entertaining response came from Ryan "the Redneck" Cordwell:
Leave the shit wide ass open, no need to close.
Theres no doors on urinals, just 2 walls on the side,
same for the stall if ya pissing. As for the [euphemism for men who crave the penis],
there ain't too many in SC, so I really can't
say....Just keep 'em all in Cali though....
I think he might have been sipping the hooch when he wrote that.
On a serious note though, I posted another story on the website - The Ineffectual Man. This bad boy doesn't really fall into one of my preset categories. Basically, it is a short scene/film script, but one that I crafted so it could easily be turned into a short stage or comic piece. It's about a character that I will use again in the future - just need to find the time. Any and all comments are always welcomed.
Lastly, the hurricane known as Bronc will hit the left coast this weekend. So, after the finale of the LFP Interview today, my posts might be sporadic if not drunken in nature. (Rosie would probably think they would be funnier from my intoxicated state, but he likes the cruder humor. (How could it get cruder? Oh, it can.))
Of course, Bronc might just kill me as soon as he lands for all the Tigershark action figure posts. So, if there is no word from me by Monday, please call 911.
Thanks-
wojr
Labels: Bronc, Intoxication, My Writing, Snide Remarks, Viewer Mail
Thursday, April 01, 2004
Day of Fools
Today is April the First - known to most as April Fools Day. Many of you dropped me a note admonishing me for not doing anything special for this day. Most believed that I would be a full supporter of this pseudo-holiday. While I support any holiday that Hallmark does not make money from (Groundhog Day Rocks), I don't like the concept of April Fools Day.
It's the one day that silly little pranks are not only expected, but almost socially acceptable. Well, fuck that. Who wants to do what is expected? Who wants to be socially acceptable? Don't be a sheep. People slaughter sheep. Save those pranks, save those practical jokes for the other 364 (or 365) days of the year when it's not a stupid little April Fools' joke. On those other days, these malicious actions border on vengeance. And let me tell you, revenge is much more satisfying.
For the same reason, I'm not a supporter of that "Night before Halloween" known to many as Mischief Night, Ghoulie Night, Devil's Night or Egg Night, depending on the location of your adolescence. Why do all that stupid shit on the one night that everyone is expecting it? And by everyone I mean parents, home-owners, business proprietors and, most importantly, police officers. Why not pick an arbitrary night some other month of the year and make that the new Mischief Night? It'll be easier to buy spray-paint, eggs, toilet paper, gasoline, kindling, neon pink dildos and whatever else one would need for successful hi-jinks. Plus, actions done on a quieter, calmer time of year might even warrant a mention in your local newspaper - and like I said, there is no such thing as bad exposure.
So, go out and raise some mischief. Just not tonight and not at the end of October. Pick something new. Damn tradition.
AND the first person to send me picture of some WOJR.COM graffiti will get a crispy dollar bill from yours truly.
wojr
Today is April the First - known to most as April Fools Day. Many of you dropped me a note admonishing me for not doing anything special for this day. Most believed that I would be a full supporter of this pseudo-holiday. While I support any holiday that Hallmark does not make money from (Groundhog Day Rocks), I don't like the concept of April Fools Day.
It's the one day that silly little pranks are not only expected, but almost socially acceptable. Well, fuck that. Who wants to do what is expected? Who wants to be socially acceptable? Don't be a sheep. People slaughter sheep. Save those pranks, save those practical jokes for the other 364 (or 365) days of the year when it's not a stupid little April Fools' joke. On those other days, these malicious actions border on vengeance. And let me tell you, revenge is much more satisfying.
For the same reason, I'm not a supporter of that "Night before Halloween" known to many as Mischief Night, Ghoulie Night, Devil's Night or Egg Night, depending on the location of your adolescence. Why do all that stupid shit on the one night that everyone is expecting it? And by everyone I mean parents, home-owners, business proprietors and, most importantly, police officers. Why not pick an arbitrary night some other month of the year and make that the new Mischief Night? It'll be easier to buy spray-paint, eggs, toilet paper, gasoline, kindling, neon pink dildos and whatever else one would need for successful hi-jinks. Plus, actions done on a quieter, calmer time of year might even warrant a mention in your local newspaper - and like I said, there is no such thing as bad exposure.
So, go out and raise some mischief. Just not tonight and not at the end of October. Pick something new. Damn tradition.
AND the first person to send me picture of some WOJR.COM graffiti will get a crispy dollar bill from yours truly.
wojr
Labels: Advice, Nostalgia, Snide Remarks
The LFP Interview - Part 3
Click Here for Part 1
Click Here for Part 2
Finally, I was being led back into inner sanctum of Larry Flynt Publications. After being exposed to underage models & their pimps in their lobby and spread-eagle shots in their reception area, I could only imagine what delights the actual offices would hold.
Looking down on it, the Larry Flynt Building is shaped like a football. Given that configuration, most people have window offices. As I stroll behind the hot Asian HR woman, I split my attention between these window offices and the ass of the woman in front of me. (This tale took place right before I met Carmel, so no need to scold me for staring.) Both views are phenomenal.
My guide leads me into an office and I continue to focus on the view out the window. All of Beverly Hills is displayed before me. With a view like that, I might consider peddling the smut. That is until I stub my toe.. ..on that same smut. Stacked on the floors and on the bookshelf to my left, there are shrink-wrapped copies of every adolescent fantasy I ever had. Every visit to the local convenience store or newsstand would force that teen version of me to try to sneak a peek at the scantily clad honeys of the same magazines that are now just scattered everywhere. This office is a veritable wanker's utopia and then I see the owner of the office - the person I'm to interview with.
Wang, I forget his real name but it was something as utterly generic in Asian fashion, is one of the controllers here. Why a controller needs to keep his office completely stocked with porn is beyond me, but I would bet my bottom dollar that he's beaten off in this very office. So, here I am, forced to shake Wang the Wanker's hand, forced to bid farewell to the HR rep that I was sure was to be the first Mrs. Wojr and forced to sit down in front of the bookshelf of "quim" & conduct this interview.
The interview is basically an instruction course on all things Flynt as Wang goes on and on about all the big guy's business ventures, besides the smutty magazines. There are the stores. There's the casino. There are charitable and political causes. And all I can think about is the mountain of porn behind me as I look for sperm stalagmites on the ceiling (or is that stalagmites? Whichever descend.)
When it comes to my side of the interview, I whiz through my credentials, my interest in the company, and every other interview cliché I have. The snowjob seems to work, because Wang wants me to meet the CFO.. .. UPSTAIRS. It's like a video game adventure through bad taste and pornography and I'm advancing through no effort on my part.
Thus, Wang leads me out of his office, eyeing me to make sure I don't steal from his treasure trove of tittie mags. It's then I see how short Wang is. He can't be more than 5'2". Then I see another guy walking around. He's less than 5'5" as well. I wonder why that is, just as I see that Wang has the most colossal wedgie known to man. His ass is literally eating his slacks.
And I chuckle, because here I am heading up to the true inner sanctum of the smut world, being led by a chronic masturbator with a pant-eating ass and suddenly..
I'm Dante in the Divine Comedy and the only thing I can do is chuckle.
Tune in tomorrow to see who is on the next canto of Hell.
wojr
Click Here for Part 1
Click Here for Part 2
Finally, I was being led back into inner sanctum of Larry Flynt Publications. After being exposed to underage models & their pimps in their lobby and spread-eagle shots in their reception area, I could only imagine what delights the actual offices would hold.
Looking down on it, the Larry Flynt Building is shaped like a football. Given that configuration, most people have window offices. As I stroll behind the hot Asian HR woman, I split my attention between these window offices and the ass of the woman in front of me. (This tale took place right before I met Carmel, so no need to scold me for staring.) Both views are phenomenal.
My guide leads me into an office and I continue to focus on the view out the window. All of Beverly Hills is displayed before me. With a view like that, I might consider peddling the smut. That is until I stub my toe.. ..on that same smut. Stacked on the floors and on the bookshelf to my left, there are shrink-wrapped copies of every adolescent fantasy I ever had. Every visit to the local convenience store or newsstand would force that teen version of me to try to sneak a peek at the scantily clad honeys of the same magazines that are now just scattered everywhere. This office is a veritable wanker's utopia and then I see the owner of the office - the person I'm to interview with.
Wang, I forget his real name but it was something as utterly generic in Asian fashion, is one of the controllers here. Why a controller needs to keep his office completely stocked with porn is beyond me, but I would bet my bottom dollar that he's beaten off in this very office. So, here I am, forced to shake Wang the Wanker's hand, forced to bid farewell to the HR rep that I was sure was to be the first Mrs. Wojr and forced to sit down in front of the bookshelf of "quim" & conduct this interview.
The interview is basically an instruction course on all things Flynt as Wang goes on and on about all the big guy's business ventures, besides the smutty magazines. There are the stores. There's the casino. There are charitable and political causes. And all I can think about is the mountain of porn behind me as I look for sperm stalagmites on the ceiling (or is that stalagmites? Whichever descend.)
When it comes to my side of the interview, I whiz through my credentials, my interest in the company, and every other interview cliché I have. The snowjob seems to work, because Wang wants me to meet the CFO.. .. UPSTAIRS. It's like a video game adventure through bad taste and pornography and I'm advancing through no effort on my part.
Thus, Wang leads me out of his office, eyeing me to make sure I don't steal from his treasure trove of tittie mags. It's then I see how short Wang is. He can't be more than 5'2". Then I see another guy walking around. He's less than 5'5" as well. I wonder why that is, just as I see that Wang has the most colossal wedgie known to man. His ass is literally eating his slacks.
And I chuckle, because here I am heading up to the true inner sanctum of the smut world, being led by a chronic masturbator with a pant-eating ass and suddenly..
I'm Dante in the Divine Comedy and the only thing I can do is chuckle.
Tune in tomorrow to see who is on the next canto of Hell.
wojr
Labels: My Writing, Nostalgia, Sex, Snide Remarks
Wednesday, March 31, 2004
Concerning male bathroom etiquette-
I previously poised these questions to some of my friends and, frankly, their responses SUCKED. So, I am resorted to find answers via the Internet.
When going to a public restroom to facilitate the first of the two normal bathroom disposal options (like you can even do the second without having to do the first as well, but I digress) and you are forced to use a stall since all the urinals are unavailable -->
WHAT DO YOU DO WITH THE DOOR TO THE STALL?
Do you close and lock it? Close it, but leave it unlocked? Leave it partially open, letting people know you will only be a second - no squatting required? Or do you leave the door wide open and go about your business, hoping no cruising homosexuals take it as an invitation for amour?
On a related note - do Ladies' Rooms have bathroom attendants? Or do these hotels/restaurants/clubs only not trust men to be alone in their lavatories (and given the fact that some of us like myself can't decide what to do with the damn door when pissing - can you blame them?)?
wojr
I previously poised these questions to some of my friends and, frankly, their responses SUCKED. So, I am resorted to find answers via the Internet.
When going to a public restroom to facilitate the first of the two normal bathroom disposal options (like you can even do the second without having to do the first as well, but I digress) and you are forced to use a stall since all the urinals are unavailable -->
WHAT DO YOU DO WITH THE DOOR TO THE STALL?
Do you close and lock it? Close it, but leave it unlocked? Leave it partially open, letting people know you will only be a second - no squatting required? Or do you leave the door wide open and go about your business, hoping no cruising homosexuals take it as an invitation for amour?
On a related note - do Ladies' Rooms have bathroom attendants? Or do these hotels/restaurants/clubs only not trust men to be alone in their lavatories (and given the fact that some of us like myself can't decide what to do with the damn door when pissing - can you blame them?)?
wojr
Labels: Snide Remarks
Tuesday, March 30, 2004
The LFP Interview - Part 2
Click Here for Part 1
As I mentioned yesterday, I arrived early for my interview for Larry Flynt Publications. As I wait outside, so not to seem too eager, Larry received a young applicant to his fine magazine and her pimp-like chaperone. After some arguing with the security guard, the pair gets turned away - despite the lady's business representative's attempts to form a bond of racial unity. It's a sad when a brother has to be like that, but I gather the applicant needed to submit her 'material' and not just show up out of the blue.
I just know, then and there, that this is not for me. I could not tell my family that this was were I worked. BUT I needed to see the inside. I needed to go to the place where these high-class individuals were just denied. I knew, at the very least, that it would make a good story one day.
So, I head upstairs to the dismay of Ike and his mini-entourage. I get off the elevator at the second to the top floor and end up in the reception area, a reception area of what appears to be a prestigious law firm. Everything is dark mahogany or dark brown leather, except for the pale, pretty girl acting as the receptionist. I'm completely taken aback by this room. I guess I was expecting spread eagle shots on the wall.
I'm told to have a seat and the human resources person will be right out. I'm sitting there and I see the 'magazine rack.' Discreetly hid in black binders are Larry's magazines: Hustler, Barely Legal, and a wide array of specialty magazines - not to mention some automotive, hunting, computer and tattoo magazines. (Bet you did not know our boy Larry made some respectable stuff, did ya?) And I'm wondering what to do. Do I check out the publisher's wares or not?
I sit there for an eternity contemplating my choices, when finally the pretty young Asian HR person comes find me. She introduces herself and takes me back into the offices for my interview.
Tune in tomorrow for Part 3 of our exciting epic. Same bat-time, same bat channel.
wojr
Click Here for Part 1
As I mentioned yesterday, I arrived early for my interview for Larry Flynt Publications. As I wait outside, so not to seem too eager, Larry received a young applicant to his fine magazine and her pimp-like chaperone. After some arguing with the security guard, the pair gets turned away - despite the lady's business representative's attempts to form a bond of racial unity. It's a sad when a brother has to be like that, but I gather the applicant needed to submit her 'material' and not just show up out of the blue.
I just know, then and there, that this is not for me. I could not tell my family that this was were I worked. BUT I needed to see the inside. I needed to go to the place where these high-class individuals were just denied. I knew, at the very least, that it would make a good story one day.
So, I head upstairs to the dismay of Ike and his mini-entourage. I get off the elevator at the second to the top floor and end up in the reception area, a reception area of what appears to be a prestigious law firm. Everything is dark mahogany or dark brown leather, except for the pale, pretty girl acting as the receptionist. I'm completely taken aback by this room. I guess I was expecting spread eagle shots on the wall.
I'm told to have a seat and the human resources person will be right out. I'm sitting there and I see the 'magazine rack.' Discreetly hid in black binders are Larry's magazines: Hustler, Barely Legal, and a wide array of specialty magazines - not to mention some automotive, hunting, computer and tattoo magazines. (Bet you did not know our boy Larry made some respectable stuff, did ya?) And I'm wondering what to do. Do I check out the publisher's wares or not?
I sit there for an eternity contemplating my choices, when finally the pretty young Asian HR person comes find me. She introduces herself and takes me back into the offices for my interview.
Tune in tomorrow for Part 3 of our exciting epic. Same bat-time, same bat channel.
wojr
Labels: My Writing, Nostalgia, Sex, Snide Remarks
"Wojr.com's Second Piece of Hate Mail"
From a Michael Broncatello in response to 'The Merman Action Figure':
What the Hell!
That eunuch of a toy is not even remotely close to me! I look nothing like that Metrosexual anatomically incorrect piece of shit.
I wish to sue for copy right infringement as well as defamation of character.
There is only one Bronc and that definitely is not him!
Two angry letters down. How many more can we get???
Yeah, he did spell eunuch correctly.
wojr
From a Michael Broncatello in response to 'The Merman Action Figure':
What the Hell!
That eunuch of a toy is not even remotely close to me! I look nothing like that Metrosexual anatomically incorrect piece of shit.
I wish to sue for copy right infringement as well as defamation of character.
There is only one Bronc and that definitely is not him!
Two angry letters down. How many more can we get???
Yeah, he did spell eunuch correctly.
wojr
Labels: Bronc, Viewer Mail
No Such Thing As Bad Exposure (Unless You're Naked)
Completely forgot about this little tidbit.
I'm letting a new (as in "new-fangled") website use one of my short comic scripts in their web-publishing efforts. Done this before with mixed results. However, when no one knows your name in the first place, there can be no bad exposure.
So, check out speedloaderstudios when you get a chance.
They made me write a blurb about myself, cause I guess 1,100 words of faux obituary wouldn't do. What do you think?
Blurb:
"Michael Wojciak or, as his fellow parolees know him, 'wojr' is a burgeoning screenwriter and comic creator currently wandering the wasteland that is Los Angeles. (Although, he still considers himself an East Coast person.) Michael has been a lifelong appreciator of comic books & genre films. (Although, he is rather timid about labeling himself a geek.) His lifelong goal is to finish the Boston marathon. (Although, he doesn't view himself as an athletic person and prefers to run only when being chased.) Wojr currently lives with his fiancée, Carmel, and their two cats, Boo & Radley. (Although, he frequently states how he is a dog person that is deathly afraid of commitment.) See further proof of Michael at odds with himself at www.wojr.com."
wojr
Completely forgot about this little tidbit.
I'm letting a new (as in "new-fangled") website use one of my short comic scripts in their web-publishing efforts. Done this before with mixed results. However, when no one knows your name in the first place, there can be no bad exposure.
So, check out speedloaderstudios when you get a chance.
They made me write a blurb about myself, cause I guess 1,100 words of faux obituary wouldn't do. What do you think?
Blurb:
"Michael Wojciak or, as his fellow parolees know him, 'wojr' is a burgeoning screenwriter and comic creator currently wandering the wasteland that is Los Angeles. (Although, he still considers himself an East Coast person.) Michael has been a lifelong appreciator of comic books & genre films. (Although, he is rather timid about labeling himself a geek.) His lifelong goal is to finish the Boston marathon. (Although, he doesn't view himself as an athletic person and prefers to run only when being chased.) Wojr currently lives with his fiancée, Carmel, and their two cats, Boo & Radley. (Although, he frequently states how he is a dog person that is deathly afraid of commitment.) See further proof of Michael at odds with himself at www.wojr.com."
wojr
Labels: My Writing, woj
Now With Transforming Action
Thanks to mitchellkramer2004@yahoo.com - we now have a better image of Bronc's action figure:
He transforms into a "merman" of some sort. Maybe, Tiger Shark Bronc would lead horny sailors to their rocky deaths with his siren song. The similarity between man and toy just grow more and more apparent every day.
wojr
Thanks to mitchellkramer2004@yahoo.com - we now have a better image of Bronc's action figure:
He transforms into a "merman" of some sort. Maybe, Tiger Shark Bronc would lead horny sailors to their rocky deaths with his siren song. The similarity between man and toy just grow more and more apparent every day.
wojr
Labels: Bronc, Snide Remarks
Monday, March 29, 2004
The LFP Interview - Part 1
Another side of me that some of you don't know about - in addition to this writing thing, I have a strong business background. I look really good on paper: Accounting Degree & moderately impressive GPA from Villanova, accounting and office management gigs in various industries, strong IT and computer skills. Headhunters are always emailing/calling with job opportunities. I turn most of them down. I just want to pay my bills and be able to focus as much time as possible on my writing.
But, a few years back, I get a call about a job at publishing company. My ears perk up. This might be a step in the right direction. So, I call up the headhunter and let her know I might be interested.
Then, things start to get weird. Her voice drops several decibel levels and she asks me if I would have trouble working for a company that had some interests in the adult entertainment area. I confessed to have never really thought about it, but I saw no real problems with it. By this point, I was just wanted to hear more. I don't think I would take the job, but I wanted to know everything. (Ok, I was envisioning getting an invite to Hef's mansion out of the deal.)
Well, she starts about a publishing company located in Beverly Hills. I knew Playboy had offices there so the phone's glued to my ear. Tell me more, sister. But that's all I get. She needs to submit my resume and see if they want to interview me. Ok, fine. I immediately call Bronc and relay the whole story. He gets excited, thinking this would mean trips to the Playboy mansion for him as well.
Next day, I get the call. They would like to meet me. Could I come in this afternoon? You bet your sweet ass I can. I get the address. Tell my boss I have an emergency or some medical thing - I forget. Show up early at the address - only to find myself at the Larry Flynt building in Beverly Hills. "HUSTLER, baby." I've gone from Playboy, skipped over Penthouse and landed right on HUSTLER. Do not collect $200.
Like I said, I was there early. So, I wait outside and work on a story I was writing at the time. While I'm waiting, this seventeen (if she was lucky) year old harlot shows up escorted by some middle-aged black man looking for an 'interview'. I'm watching in amazement at a man that my imagination is labeling Ike Turner and his bimbo talking to the security guard, trying to arrange a visit up to see Larry & his golden wheelchair. And I wonder if a job at Larry Flynt Publishing right for me?
Tune in Tomorrow When I Continue the Story.
wojr
Another side of me that some of you don't know about - in addition to this writing thing, I have a strong business background. I look really good on paper: Accounting Degree & moderately impressive GPA from Villanova, accounting and office management gigs in various industries, strong IT and computer skills. Headhunters are always emailing/calling with job opportunities. I turn most of them down. I just want to pay my bills and be able to focus as much time as possible on my writing.
But, a few years back, I get a call about a job at publishing company. My ears perk up. This might be a step in the right direction. So, I call up the headhunter and let her know I might be interested.
Then, things start to get weird. Her voice drops several decibel levels and she asks me if I would have trouble working for a company that had some interests in the adult entertainment area. I confessed to have never really thought about it, but I saw no real problems with it. By this point, I was just wanted to hear more. I don't think I would take the job, but I wanted to know everything. (Ok, I was envisioning getting an invite to Hef's mansion out of the deal.)
Well, she starts about a publishing company located in Beverly Hills. I knew Playboy had offices there so the phone's glued to my ear. Tell me more, sister. But that's all I get. She needs to submit my resume and see if they want to interview me. Ok, fine. I immediately call Bronc and relay the whole story. He gets excited, thinking this would mean trips to the Playboy mansion for him as well.
Next day, I get the call. They would like to meet me. Could I come in this afternoon? You bet your sweet ass I can. I get the address. Tell my boss I have an emergency or some medical thing - I forget. Show up early at the address - only to find myself at the Larry Flynt building in Beverly Hills. "HUSTLER, baby." I've gone from Playboy, skipped over Penthouse and landed right on HUSTLER. Do not collect $200.
Like I said, I was there early. So, I wait outside and work on a story I was writing at the time. While I'm waiting, this seventeen (if she was lucky) year old harlot shows up escorted by some middle-aged black man looking for an 'interview'. I'm watching in amazement at a man that my imagination is labeling Ike Turner and his bimbo talking to the security guard, trying to arrange a visit up to see Larry & his golden wheelchair. And I wonder if a job at Larry Flynt Publishing right for me?
Tune in Tomorrow When I Continue the Story.
wojr
Labels: My Writing, Nostalgia, Sex, Snide Remarks
Bronc, the Action Figure
I've been getting some questions about who exactly this "Bronc" person is that I keep referring to. Don't worry I'll craft a biography for the boy shortly.
But for now - you just have to go see his action figure. Bronc is the third one down and seems to be into bondage.
wojr
I've been getting some questions about who exactly this "Bronc" person is that I keep referring to. Don't worry I'll craft a biography for the boy shortly.
But for now - you just have to go see his action figure. Bronc is the third one down and seems to be into bondage.
wojr
Labels: Bronc, Snide Remarks
They're Afraid of Opie, I Tell You
My shit is psychic, yo.
According to this article, they are planning behind the scenes telepics of 'Different Strokes', 'Laverne & Shirley', 'Mork & Mindy' & 'Bewitched.' ("We need to do it in a non-exploitative manner." HA)
How can you include 'Laverne & Shirley' AND 'Mork & Mindy' but ignore 'Happy Days'? They're in the same damn TV universe, made by the same damn people. Why not do 'Happy Days' unless you are, like I said, afraid of Ron Howard?
I realize no one cares, but I love being right.
LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT
(How much do you want to bet the 'Bewitched' telepic comes out just when the Nicole Kidman/Will Ferrell big-screen version hits the multiplex? Those TV bastards aren't as dumb as one might think.)
wojr
My shit is psychic, yo.
According to this article, they are planning behind the scenes telepics of 'Different Strokes', 'Laverne & Shirley', 'Mork & Mindy' & 'Bewitched.' ("We need to do it in a non-exploitative manner." HA)
How can you include 'Laverne & Shirley' AND 'Mork & Mindy' but ignore 'Happy Days'? They're in the same damn TV universe, made by the same damn people. Why not do 'Happy Days' unless you are, like I said, afraid of Ron Howard?
I realize no one cares, but I love being right.
LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT
(How much do you want to bet the 'Bewitched' telepic comes out just when the Nicole Kidman/Will Ferrell big-screen version hits the multiplex? Those TV bastards aren't as dumb as one might think.)
wojr
Labels: Hollywood, Nostalgia, Snide Remarks
