So This Is What It's Come To.

Tonight I've decided to forgo writing, not because I'm having a bit of a blockage problem and don't want to burden you with yet another shit post.

But because I really want to watch The Help, a movie based on a book written by a woman whose manuscript was rejected 60 times.

(If that doesn't give an aspiring writer hope then I don't know what will).

Before I go though, I wanted to tell you about something that happened yesterday. Not sure if I mentioned that my mom was laid off about a month ago and is now on a little thing called unemployment until further notice.

Because of her new situation, she spends a lot of time pondering on life and staring at the lake, talking to her dogs and filing her nails. If she's not doing any of the marvelous aforementioned activities, my dear mama will be plopped on her couch watching television. Wednesday morning she calls me at work, excited over something.

Mom: So I was watching some show there and a commercial came on for a company that's looking for office managers.

Me: Oh, yeah?

Mom: Si. Why don't you take down the number and give 'em a call? You were the manager at that church.

Me: Give me the number.

Mom: But only if you're going to call!

Me: I'll call, I promise.

(Gives me the number and two hours later):

Mom: Have you called yet?

Me: No, mama. I'm busy working. This is what people do when they work.

Mom: I know you're watching videos on the internet.

Me: Okay, okay. Good grief.

(Five minutes later).

Me: Well... I called.

Mom: And?

Me: They want to hire me. Only that they're not looking for office managers. They're looking for appointment setters.

Mom: Bueno, that doesn't sound so bad. What did they say?

Me: He said they needed bilingual people for the job and that I "give good voice." Whatever that means.

Mom: And what do they do?

Me: They book strippers and prostitutes.

Mom: Ay, Dios mio. Lose that number.

And the beat rolls on.