For Hire (Originally posted on Facebook 10.27.09)

I got laid off today.

No, no, it's okay. Before you gasp and express your shock, disbelief, and profuse sympathies, don't worry. I am actually more than okay.

Nothing prepares you for that phone call, though. Nothing prepares you for the audible hitch in your boss' voice when she says, "Can I see you in my office, please?" How they hem and haw in front of you as soon as the door closes with a definite click. She was very sweet, almost endearing, in the way she laid me off. What surprised me most was my lack of fear. I took the news like she was telling me it was going to be windy outside today. There was no seizing in my heart, no clammy hands, no waves of panic, no tears of WTF am I going to do now?

Instead, I sat there and consoled my boss.

I consoled her because, between the two of us, she was sadder with the fact that they could not afford me anymore. I actually felt bad for her and the company. I get to walk away and look for a new job. She has to stay and deal with dismal sales, delays in shipment, and the everyday drama that comes with running your own business. I get to go home and watch Law & Order reruns until I fall asleep on the couch, with bits of Doritos Cool Ranch still clinging to my chin.

The ride on the way home felt surreal. Traffic did not bother me, and as reality set in, I felt like I was floating. As I entered the valley, I was expecting the waves of fear and panic to set in. But, no. Nothing. Instead, to celebrate my brand new and still jumping unemployment status, I went to a McDonald's drive-thru and ordered a Quarter Pounder with cheese meal with Hi-C orange drink to boot. Hey, I'm already unemployed, so, cut me some motherhonking slack. I ate that burger, inhaled those fries, and slurped that Hi-C like a fat chick about to enter a Jenny Craig weight loss convention. Yup, everything was and still is definitely good.

Of course, in a few weeks, I just might be singing a different ditty. Maybe by then, I will already be climbing the walls, crying massive amounts of tears due to desperation, and already well deep into the depression that has claimed so many people during this godawful recession. But for now, I'm okay. I have already sent out my resume, already applied for unemployment, and tomorrow, I will start alerting my freelance clients that their favorite copyscribe is now available for full time opportunities. And if you hear of something, be a friend and let me know, hhmmkay?

For now, I will enjoy the lightness in my heart, my fearlessness, my bravado, and the confidence that no matter what adventure I will be soon be embarking on, God and his given talents will see me through.

Now, where's the remote? Oprah's almost on...

Growing Old(er)

Randy and I grabbed a quick bite in one of the hipster joints that line Ventura Boulevard. The place was teeming with attitude -- bored Hollywood wannabes waiting for their cheese and fruit sampler plates, emaciated, pale-looking vegans waiting for their macrobiotic salads (no egg or dairy, please) and of course, the most annoying of the lot, trust fund teenagers who drive BMWs and whose weekly allowance is probably more than what I earn in a month.

The seating was communal and as Murphy's Law would deem it, we ended up sitting with the most obnoxious of these insufferable twats. All throughout our meal, we were subjected to an endless tirade of Ohmigods, shutups, and youknows. There was of course, the copious amounts of kissing and cringe-inducing public displays of affection. All of them had iPhones of course, and throughout the precious time we shared, breathing the same air, brushing elbows and eating grilled paninis with caramelized shallots, they were taking pictures of the place, tweeting their meals and talking about how school sucks. (I should feel good a little, I guess -- at least these monsters are getting an education).

They were loud and unapologetic about it. They were annoying and didn't give a rat's ass that they were. They spoke in singsong tones that I abhor, they made spectacles of themselves while the rest of us "adults" gave them dagger glances but didn't say anything, and instead busied ourselves with finishing our meals so we can skulk off outside where peace and sunshine and decent, intelligent conversation can all be found.

Then it hit me.

I have become a grown-up.

And not just any grown-up. I have become the disapproving, dagger-glance throwing and ultimately, judgmental grown-up that I used to laugh at just years ago.

Wait! I wanted to yelp. I used to be one of you! I used to be loud and obnoxious and all those wonderful, cool things. Bars used to throw us out, even ban us. I hated school and it was just a venue to get drunk, get wasted, throw up and fall into a deep stupor -- only to repeat the process the next day. And the next day. And the day after that. Over and over and over and over again.

And now, it's over.

Now, I can't even sit through a 10:30 screening of a movie. At around 10:45, I start nodding off. I don't drink, save for a few sips of wine during dinner parties and get togethers, I've stopped smoking and I can't even remember the last time I've been in a bar, let alone getting banned from one. I go to work, I pay my bills, and I worry -- about money, the economy, my health, my future and oh, just about life in general.

I am an adult. Somehow, life crept up on me and I became an adult.

As I was listening to their disjointed conversation, I also heard snippets of my former self. The underlying need to be accepted, to be looked at, to be taken seriously. Maybe if I talked a little louder, people would think I'm extra cooler. Maybe if I cussed and laughed hysterically, people would see how anti-establishment (such an adult term!) I was and how defiant I could be in thwarting authority.

As I listened I realized how pathetic, how lost and how idiotic I must've look to other people.

So, to all the people I have offended, disgusted and turned-off with the sorry soils of my wasted youth, please accept my sincere apologies. Please find comfort in the fact that I had my stupid phase at the appropriate age. I would like to think I am a better, saner, and more tolerable person to be around with these days. I suppose I can also take comfort in the fact that in a few years, say in about 10 or 15, the rascals who annoyed me this afternoon will be throwing the same dagger looks at the next generation of twats. What goes around comes around, my friends. What goes around comes around. And bites you in the ass big time.

So, I'm older and not cool anymore. I can deal with that. Just don't rub it in too much -- at least not just yet.

And oh, comb your hair, clean your room, read a book for a change and for crying out loud, stay off my lawn.