Dont Mince Words

In my continuing effort to live a healthy, unemployed lifestyle, I decided now would be a good time to try one of those eight-week, Runner’s World couch-to-marathon training programs. I started week two today and I think I’m going to flunk myself and repeat week one.

I knew this was going to be a harder week, so this morning I suited up appropriately: super-plus tampon, Spanx to give my thighs more zing, and a waist-cincher to support my back. I successfully managed to run two minutes with a one minute break until I hit 15 minutes and realized my heart rate had soared to an unbelievable 175 BPM. WTF. I reverted back to the week one lesson of 1run/2walk.

What doesn’t make sense to me is I can go like a maniac on an eliptical machine at the gym on my off days, but that foot pounding into the pavement seems to freak my body out. Come to think of it, I can have hot monkey sex longer than I can run.

Everyone I know who has taken up running late-life loves it. I’m going to get through this eight-week program even if it takes me… four months. But for now, the only runner’s high I’m going to get is from the beer I have afterwards.

With my focus on my career, I’m sure you were worried that I’d never write about guys or dates again. Not to worry, this is Los Angeles, so there’s always going to be a story. I just haven’t had the time to write this one.

Houston (let’s call him that instead of nutless) and I met online in mid-July and began dating immediately. He was one of those Type A planners who would book three dates in a week. In fact, I mentioned to him that his frequency was outstanding and unlike the 1x/week LA guy mentality. “I know what I like and I go for it,” was his answer.

So, we went out to dinner, we played tennis, we saw movies and shows, we went to concerts and parties. We did stuff. He even took me and my dog to a four-star hotel weekend getaway. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I got laid off. We went out less. He called and emailed less. But I wasn’t really paying attention because I was focused on the job thing and getting out to network.

Our last date was a business dinner with some of his ad reps, one of whom commented on what a cute couple we were. I never heard from him after that night. The guy who pitched himself as the nicest guy I’d ever meet did the fade out on me. Had I been more alert, I would of seen this coming and beat him to the dump.

“Are you sure he didn’t have a medical emergency and just couldn’t call you? He was older, after all,” said a friend. “No, he’s alive because he posted a marketing job on craig’s list,” I explained. “Gosh, don’t you want to understand what happened?” she asked.

Not necessary, is it? He was under the 90-day LA trial relationship period. He demonstrated by his actions that he couldn’t nut up and dump me proper. That’s alright, he had republican tendencies and poor musical taste. All I can say is…. Celine Dion? Really? That’s my closure.

I love my friends and my network that alert me to jobs I might not normally find through my channels.

A writer girlfriend emailed me about a Twitter post she was following.  “They are going to announce a job,” she said. I immediately signed on and followed the Twit to find out what was going on.  They were hyping a marketing director job announcement.  “Follow us for news on how to apply,” they said.  How every exciting and almost contest-y.  Get people following a brand and get those brand loyal folks to apply for a job.

This is the essence of social media.  Imagine my disappointment when they Tweeted a street address and zip code to “mail” my cover letter and resume.  WTF?  It is not 1987, after all.  Who would use a new channel, like Twitter, to promote a job, but then gather the resumes through an old channel like USPS.  If you are going to do that, why not suggest pony express or hire a clown to courier it.  I guess they don’t have a green policy either.

I went to their website and emailed my information in order to reduce my carbon resume footprint.  Several hours later, their info@ responder told me I should mail my resume.  OMG.  Seriously?  I debated if this was a company I’d really want to work for.  No, but I did decide that it was a company full of chuckleheads I’d really like to meet to give them some free marketing ideas.

The resume is in the mail with a nice Betty Davis stamp on it.