Although I am a non worker, I found myself working for Alice Roi again this morning, this federal holiday morning, one of the rare times everyone i know is NOT working, and, come to think of it, nor are all the people i dont know. But as I was the only one on the yet-to-be-cleaned streets, i was able to sneak a peak at this rare occurrence. Ice, you ask? Frozen milk? Glue? No! the answer is D- none of the above. I was lucky enough to lay my eyes on this glazed donut glaze spill. of course i was tempted to lick it straight of da flo -who wouldnt be?- but i thought the better of it. i donut regret that decision.

My lovely (read: mandatory) unemployment meeting!

come on, what the heck else was i supposed to do?

The NY dept of labor, as you might imagine, tastes quite like the DMV- dreary, crowded, full of earth tones and similarly vibrant personalities. but imagine if getting your license was something that commonly brought about depression and spurred self-loathing and was something you were quite the opposite of proud of, and, VIOLA! there you have the labor dept. 

That was my funny part, but some actual data I collected that was of interest is as follows:

Theyre packed. Nearly every seat was full. They feel overwhelmed and are unable to serve everyone to the extent the dept really intends to. They have extended their hours. They are becoming lax on their policies that determine whether or not you are actually trying to find a job, because they believe you! Also to note was that I was among perhaps 5 (in our group of fourty or so) that looked younger than 30. The majority were men. This made me feel better, but it made me sad for all of them. These are adults who are no longer able to provide for their families. They carried with them thick novels and New York Magazines and were of obvious intelligence (besides the guy with the herpe sitting across from me). It was just another reminder of how real this economic crisis really is, and the extent to which its effects us all.

a sheep in fox's clothing

today I picked up my nearly $400 worth of goodies and walked away with 2 Gucci bags. 

Come on, whatchu think! I may be unemployed, but i didnt even buy that ish when i was a working woman. the dolla dolla bills went to my years supply of contacts (object of necessity) (sheep), but were presented in dazzling gold gucci bags (object of luxury) (fox). 

curiouser and curiouser....

Free. Another lesson.

if youre going to go out for some drinks with some girlies that you havent seen in ages that youve known throughout the ages, 2 rounds turns to four, and 4 turns into wanting to take a cab home instead of the subway. BUCKS.

Sooooo, it would be nice if one of your girlie's cousins happened to be celebrating his 50th bday bash at the exact same place you were having drinks with the girlies and insisted on paying for your drinks, in addition to a generous, if excessive, array of fattening fried appetizers that your third round of drinks promted a desire for but that you resisted casue you didnt wanna pay for them. quite Nice, indeed!

Dead as A Door Mouse

The thing about unemployment is, really, all the time at home. Most days this time simply drives you a little batty and can lead to a sadness that seems only to be satisfied by eating far too many Food, and, lucky you! being home means youre mere feet from all the food you own. swell.

other days, however, it means youre the first to encounter the mouse youve been flatmates with for the past 4 months on its death bed once the poison you reluctantly allowed your exterminator to place behind your fridge has finally kicked in. yipes. 

it was an upsetting experience to say the least. look at that FACE!!! i was instructed by various men in my life to throw the sucker in the trash! the Trash! this was especially hard for me since, as an unemployed lassie i am without bedtime, and thus spent the most face time with little mouse since he was a late night snacker. however, i did find some resolve in his choice to go to his permanent resting place in a sock that belongs to none other than ME. yea, we had a connection.

How to SPA yourself for FREE

hello all!

todays lesson is how to get you face and arms rubbed in the finest of lotions; how to have a professional make up artist fab your face; how to get your hair did- all simultaneously- for FREE!!!

all you have to do is find a non shady photog on craigslist, tell 8 of your friends their address just in case they are shady and a rescue mission must be performed, and then pretend to model for the day! if youre nice you might even get a mean chicken parm sandwich and some new cool friends out of the deal.

and, if they smell the recessionista on your skin, the shoot may morph into a sad crazy woman at the cheapest locals in town, changing from one pair of ravaged fish nets into the next and it might just be cool!

go get em tiger.

I do not feel cute.

Dear World, 

you cant just slap an "ista" on the end of a bad thing and claim it is now cute. recessionista? IS that CUTE? Maybe I need to refer you to my previous post in which my trials and tribulations of being an out-of-work (i.e.  "unemployed"; aka bum; dufus, e.g.) human on COBRA insurance (yea I didnt know what that was either... until i had to start forking over the bucks for it) lead me to return home looking like a 3 out of ten? i do not feel cute. i do not feel clever. i do feel that having a job and a reason to put a bra on would probably make me feel, well, 9 to 147 times cuter. 

sincerely, 

 the not-feeling-cute-ista