Hi Guys,
Two years ago, several of my friends had talked about creating "The Tony Times", a bi-monthly newsletter devoted to Tony, a college buddy, and his daily dealings...or lack thereof. Unfortunately, nothing became of it. Today, in an effort to vent, to entertain and to also make you guys realize that your lives ain't so bad, I have decided to write a daily newsletter that summarizes the sadness of my life. I'm not at the point of being insane or suicidal. To me, this is a buffer to avoid any of those latter traits. Feel free to comment and pass this along. Because frankly, I just don't give a shit.
It has now been two months and 4 days since I have had a full-time job. Since July 24th, I have earned a living via the glory of government handouts ($435 a week on unemployment) and random gigs. On August 10th, I sauntered down to Umphrey Soldier's in Manhattan at 9AM to do an 8 hour shoot for Touch Tunes. I served as an Extra. The pay? $75. I basically stood around a bar, eating donuts and talking to pathetic actors and actresses looking to make an extra buck to pay for their room at the YMCA. I made a friend, though. His name was Darold. He was the first black person I had truly developed a bond with. My first true black friend. I probably should have tried to stay in touch. Maybe it's not too late. Touch Tunes is that stupid game thing that you see on the end of a bar that barflys play on until they are kicked out like Barney Gumble. By the way, I had to contact the accounting department for the company that sent me out on the job. I haven't been paid yet.
I spent the week of August 17th back at my old place, Picture Shack Entertainment, temping for the girl who took my job. $800 was my pay and it was actually slightly more than my weekly salary while working for the company full-time. It's a lot like this: You date a girl. She breaks up with you. She gets a new boyfriend. He decides to take a week off. Your now ex-girlfriend calls you up and says, "Hey, I'll pay you some money to do shit that I wouldn't want to ever do. Oh, it's a week later? My boyfriend is coming back. Get the fuck out...faggot." Okay, so maybe Picture Shack didn't call me a faggot, but it kind of felt like it.
From September 16th to September 23rd, I worked at Rockpit.com. They're a company that streams live concerts in HD on the web. Not a bad idea. Well, sort of...Especially when your first concert is Creed and Staind. Yes, I spent a week of my life, promoting Creed all across the internet via social network sites. I sold my soul for $90 a day (Cash, mind you...not bad) to say, "Guess what, Creed is back! And they're performing live in Houston, Texas on September 25th. Can't go? No problem! Rockpit.com is streaming the concert LIVE in high definition!" Suck my fucking balls. In all fairness, I really liked the people I worked with. By the way, I haven't been paid for the last 3 days I worked there!
Jobs are hard to come by. I don't understand why that is the case in NYC. I've had a bunch of interviews (Office Manager at Club Monaco's Corporate Office, Data Entry Clerk at Yodle (not the snack cake), Personal Assistant positions for a photographer and business-woman, Social Networking Site Consultant for Frontier Financial Advisors (I wrote up a proposal to help out there company that used mostly info I had found right off the internet...), Freelance Producer for Strickman Rips (they do those stupid testimonials like Tylenol and Bayer), Videographer for AOL and only had one job offer as the Client Services Coordinator for a Post-Production House. I turned it down because I'd be getting more money on Unemployment. That's how fucked up the economy is...and my life.
Today, I went food shopping in my new sleeping-quarters of Bushwick, Brooklyn. I've learned to spend $75 every 10 days on food. Produce is surprisingly expensive considering the fact that all these people seem to eat here are rice, beans, pollo, hot dogs, soda, Ramen and anything remotely unhealthy. Or, it could be because the fuckers who provide the produce don't offer the food at a reasonable price so these poor people who can't afford it have to settle for shitty foods which are affordable.
Here are some fun facts: I speak better Spanish than English now. I got made fun of by two giggling 10 year-olds the other night because they said I was wearing Sketchers. Apparently, at their local P.S. (which kids don't seem to go to as there are children running around at all hours of the day here), they don't teach them to read. I was wearing DC Shoes. Sketchers are for Vanessa Hudgens fans and I am an Ashley Tisdale fan.
My brother was trying to hook me up with this cute Asian girl. Her response: "Ur brother is 23 years old!!!!!!" You know what else is 23 years old? The anniversary of Chernobyl. Which resembles much of Bushwick...and my life.
One positive thing that did happen today is my aunt Andrea asked me and will pay for me to shoot and edit a music video for her children's educational thing called Sign-A-Song, which teaches kids sign language. I agreed to sit in on a class on Wednesday. I fucking hate kids. Wait, I think I meant this was a negative thing.
A degree in theatre means a lifetime of questioning one's decisions between the ages of 18 to 22. If I were smart, I'd have majored in education so at least I could get a job as a history teacher which would actually make me happy.
Lastly, some of you may know that I was featured in the September 2nd issue of Time Out New York's "Most Pathetic Losers Whose Friends/Family Knew Someone At Time Out In Order To Be Featured In There Monthly" I mean, "Most Eligible Bachelors." I got some responses and ended up following through with 2 girls. One was a sweetheart whose body resembled a drawing that a 7 year-old would make of a girl (you know, a stick figure with a triangular body) and a face that, as my brother so kindly put was, "KIIIIIIIIIIIINDA Busted." She took me to a reception to see President Obama and Hilary Clinton. Pretty damn cool but she was not my type...at all...ever....not even if I was hammered with roofies in my system. The second girl fucked me over an hour before we were to meet when she, "Got a lot of work in at the last minute" and then had a change of heart an hour later. Don't ever let a girl control your plans. I don't care if she's a super-model. Put yourself in the drivers seat because as we all know, women can't drive.
I hate my life. And you should, too. Not yours, of course, because as Michael Scott (AKA Prison Mike says) "You got a good life! You got a good life..."
Sincerely,
HML
