We have a large 2-car garage that has been filled to the brim with all kinds of crap almost from the moment we moved in here about 8 years ago. None of our vehicles have ever been in that structure, only the piles and piles of crap we threw in there and forgot about. Instead, they’ve all been parked out front and exposed to the elements.

From the front, our house looks like hillbillies live here: 2 cars, a truck, and three motorcycles are scattered about the driveway and parking area. Well-off hillbillies, perhaps, considering that the cars are Volvo and Lexus and the truck is a Land Cruiser, but it’s still very hillbilly-ish. And when I decide to break out the tools and work on any of them, well then it really is hillbilly time no matter what the socioeconomic strata: picture a fat bald guy in camoflage cargo shorts with serious plumber’s crack working on a bike or a car in the driveway and hollering “shit!” and “fuck!” and “goddammit!” at random intervals. The only real difference then between me and Jethro in Kentucky is that I still have all my teeth.

Well, all that is changing as of today. Today, Beth and I finished cleaning out the garage and now there are three motorcycles lovingly parked in there where they can’t be rained on or spattered by the lawn sprinklers anymore. We moved all the crap out of the garage and swept out all the leaves and dirt and crap that had accumulated over the years, and then we moved back in only what we wanted to keep. The rest of it — an old entertainment center, a water-damaged dining room table and chairs, Zoe’s old bed — all went out on the curb with a “Free To A Good Home” sign rather than saving it to clutter up the place until we finally organized the garage sale we’ve been talking for years about holding but probably never will.

And the trash fairies showed up with their pickups and hatchback cars and made it all disappear by nightfall. I love the trash fairies.

I quit my new job today. I had my doubts about it on the first day, they grew stronger on the second day, and by the third day I knew this was the wrong job for me, so on the fourth day I quit.

I quit because the job I had bore almost no resemblance to the job I interviewed for. They basically lied to me, bait-and-switched me into taking it. Why, I have no idea. I made it very clear in my interviews that I was a trainer looking for a training position, that I was not at all interested in doing sales, and I specifically told them I wanted no more than 25% travel. And they reassured me that oh no, I’d be training, not selling, and that I’d only be on the road “a little bit,” mostly at trade shows, and that “other people” (they were really vague about who) would be scheduling the training sessions.

Well. I’m reminded of The Princess Bride, where Inigo Montoya says to Vizzini, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” For these people, through the miracles of hair-splitting and double-speak, “training” means product demo and “not selling” means selling and “scheduling training” means cold-calling customers. Oh, and the “other people” scheduling the “training” meant me. Inconceivable!

Their vision of the job: The people I’d be “training” were potential customers I had cold-called on the phone and coerced into letting me bring my big box o’ products over so I could show them off and train demonstrate their usage and hopefully induce the students customers to buy want said products. Sort of like a door-to-door vacuum salesman “teaching” you how to use his product by showing how well it picks up cat hair. Only with appointments. That I made. And it was “not selling” because I wouldn’t be actually taking orders, but rather referring them to one of the salespeople so they could close the deal and earn the commission. And they wanted me to do this nationwide, so there was going to be a lot of travel if I did as much “training” as you’d expect someone who’s “not selling” full time to do.

I know: it was a sweet deal. I’m a fool to pass it up. But, um… No. I don’t do sales, no matter what you call it. I don’t like it and I’m not good at it. And I especially don’t do sales for people who lie to me about it. I have a specific skill set that has nothing to do with sales — or product demonstration or customer education or whatever you want to call it — and I can get paid a lot more and be a lot happier if I stick with that.

So… I’m out of a job again and I have a new flurry of resumes out in the wind. Great. Because, you know, the holidays are the best time of year to be looking for work.

All I want for Christmas, Santa, is a new job.

I started a new job today. Whew. I was only out of work for about a month this time, which is an improvement over my usual months-long stretch. Too bad the stress of being out of work prevents you from enjoying not having to go to work.

Interestingly (or not), I went for my first interview for this job the day after I got laid off. I left my suddenly not-my-job anymore at noon, came home and did a search on dice.com, found a job with a description that sounded as if it was written about me, emailed a resume, and got called back about an hour later. I was crossing my fingers then for the perfect symmetry of getting a new job the very next day after I lost the old job, but I’ll take 30 days later. It beats unemployment.

But as relieved as I am to have a new job … I’m not 100% sure about it. It’s product training rather than software training and while it’s not a sales job it will have elements of sales to it. So it’s nice that it’s different … but I’m still in wait-and-see mode about if it’s going to work for me. I have kind of a weird feeling about the company itself and the people there, too. It’s quiet there, too quiet, and the people are nice and all … but there’s an odd quality to it that I can’t quite put my finger on. Beth said it best when I was trying to describe it to her when she went all Christmas on me and suggested the Island of Misfit Toys.

I hope things work out there, because I’m sick to death of looking for a job every year or so. I could stand to be the Charlie-In-The-Box.

Zoe and I went on the Love Ride today. This was her second, my… fifth, I think. We didn’t go last year — partly out of inertia, partly because BB King was the musical draw and I wasn’t interested — but she went the year before that when ZZ Top was the concert, and how cool is that, that she can say ZZ Top was her first concert? This year was the Black Crowes, another worthy addition to her Concerts I’ve Been To file.

Here’s a picture of us parked in the middle of San Fernando Blvd just up the street from Glendale Harley-Davidson as we wait for the bikes to start rolling for the ride up to Lake Castaic.

Today is my birthday; I just turned 44. For my birthday, I have:

1) Been laid off from my job last Wednesday morning. I was given absolutely no notice that it was coming. And after being there for more than a year, I got quite the princely severance package: They paid me through the end of the pay period. Wow. Four whole days. And only part of the accrued PTO they owed me. And they made sure they dinged me for half a day of sick time for going home early on Monday. The management of that company most certainly are a class act.

2) A new motorcycle I don’t know how I’m going to pay for. I bought my new bike 10 days before I got laid off. The asshats in Item #1 all knew I was planning to buy this new motorcycle even as they knew they were planning to cut me loose. Nobody even hinted that this might not be the right time for me to be making major purchases. Nothin’ but class…

3) Absolutely no prospects for a new job and no idea when or where or how I’ll find a new one. What I do know is that I’m fucking sick to death of having to find a new fucking job every fucking year.

So happy fucking birthday to me. I’m not quite as bitter as I seem here, but I do definitely want The Universe to get the message loud and clear that It can kiss my hairy white ass.

And I’m turning comments off on this entry because I don’t want to hear it from any of you. You don’t have to kiss it, but I’d rather you didn’t send me any inspirational or sympathetic crap that I’ll feel duty-bound to respond to, either. Just hold those warm fuzzies in your heart — and keep them to yourself. Seriously, I mean it.

After years of Harley angst, I finally got one back in June. Unfortunately, that led to even more angst. There was a problem with the transmission, and after several failed attempts at fixing it and me refusing to roll over when Harley said “Just live with it,” they finally agreed to buy it back from me. So that took care of my lemon problem, but also left me back in the I-want-a-Harley state of angst again.

Well, angst no more. Yesterday, I bought this little beauty:

That’s a 2003 Harley-Davidson Anniversary Edition FLTRI Road Glide with a Tour-Pak, 95″ Big Bore engine, 6-speed Jim’s transmission, oil cooler, and assorted chromey sparkly bits, and I got it all for less than the sticker price on the 06 model I bought in the first place.

I’m a happy camper. A happy Harley owning camper.

I’m back from Phoenix, where I actually stayed in Tempe. There’s a lot of that for me in Phoenix, apparently — go there but not go there. Go figure.

Anyway, here’s the ever-popular view of the room:

…and here’s the even more popular view out the window:

I’m pretty proud of how I was able to focus on the window screen in that picture. I certainly didn’t want to be able to see and comment on the porn video shop and lingerie modeling joint that would otherwise have been clearly visible. No, I wouldn’t want that…

I’ve been remiss about posting my View From Here pictures again. Mea culpa and all that Latin crap. Since the last entry showing the fabulousness of Wichita, KS, I’ve also been to Phoenix, Montreal and St. Louis. Truly, I am a world traveler — if by “world traveler” you mean someone who travels only in the upper portion of the North American continent. But no matter, you’re here for the view. So…

First we have Phoenix, AZ — or rather the small suburb of Anthem:

…and that’s where my camera’s batteries died. I had to take the view picture with my camera phone and I can’t get reception to download it right now, so… Imagine a beautiful desert landscape … with a hotel pool in the foreground and a Denny’s in the background. That’s what you have to look forward to here in the next day or so.

…and then I got all francophile with it and went to Montreal, QC, where they all speak French and when the hotel desk clerk asked if I spoke French, I responded “Si!”

Here’s the quaint little room with its quaint little double beds…

…and here’s the view of the Frenchy-speaking outside:

…and finally the wonderfulness that is St. Louis, MO. I have a weird mental block about St. Louis — I always confuse it with New Orleans. I have no idea why — until this trip I’d never been to either, they have nothing in common, they’re not even in the same region. But still, in my head, if you say St. Louis I think new Orleans … and vice versa. So the Cardinals play in the bayou and St. Louis was hit by a hurricane. Go figure. But here’s the photographic evidence that I’ve been to one that wasn’t the other … not that that’s going to help me tell them apart.

Here’s the not-New Orleans room:

…and here’s the still not-New Orleans view:

And I’m in Tempe, AZ as I write this, so look for a fresh new view from here entry tomor– Oh, let’s be honest, it’ll probably be a week or two. So now you have something to look forward to. Or not.

I was in Wichita, KS a few weeks back and never got around to sharing the view with you, Constant Reader. My humble apologies.

Here’s the room at the luxurious (not) Four Points Sheraton – Wichita Airport:

…and here’s the view. And, yes, that’s my PT Cruiser knock-off in the parking lot.

PT Cruisers are very popular cars. I used to work with a guy who loves them. Me, I hate ’em. I think they look like hearses for midgets.

It’s five years today since the attacks on September 11th changed our world. In that five years we have lost many of our civil liberties, been spied on by our own government, transformed a large budget surplus into the biggest deficit in US history, seen one of the biggest expansions of government in our history, invaded and decimated the infrastructure of Afghanistan and Iraq and made those countries a breeding ground for terrorists, wasted the good will of most of the world and turned us into one of the most feared — if not most hated — countries on Earth, killed innocent Iraqi and Afghan civilians on purpose, established secret prisons, tortured and killed prisoners, handed prisoners over to countries we know will torture and kill them, thrown away the Geneva Convention, ignored our own Constitutional protections of freedom and liberty, and given up the moral high ground in our “fight” against “terrorism.”

Those 19 terrorists wanted to strike a blow against America. They have succeeded beyond their wildest dreams: we have abandoned the principles that made America great.

What a sad lens through which to have to view this sad anniversary. I was so proud to be an American five years ago. I am so ashamed of my country’s leadership today.

I wonder: Would the victims be happy with the changes, the losses, we’ve endured in their name?