Sell Yourself

No, I'm not talking about street walking or organ sales on the black market. I've got another job interview coming up on the 9th. After the last interview (for the same position) I had a hard time figuring out why I hadn't beat out the other applicants or at the very least, the person who ended up getting the job. This person had a reputation for having attitude problems and not treating people the right way. She was up one day and down another. I was really bummed for quite awhile because all I was hearing before the interview was that the job was mine and I felt that I was the best candidate for the position.

My interview went great. I answered all of the questions to the best of my abilities and even got the trick questions they try to trip you up with. The simple things that everyone should know but nobody ever takes the time to research.

After the punch to the gut that was the "we've decided to go in a different direction" phone call, I asked myself what I could have possibly done wrong to let it slip out of my hands. I figured it was because my company has recently shown an interest in promoting women and minorities. "I'm a white guy, that's what I have against me" I told myself.

Recently, I found out that my interview wasn't as great as I thought it was. Sure I had blown them away with the knowledge of 10,000 men, but I had come across to the interviewers as "kinda dull", "not energetic", "not excited."

"Huh?" I said. I immediately knew what was interpreted from my body language and tone. I come from a family of non-smilers. It's not that we don't have a sense of humor, we're actually pretty fucking funny most of the time. Maybe we were jaded as youths or realize that the worst types of people are the ones who display fake smiles all of the time. What the hell are you so damn happy about all of the time. Life tends to suck about half of the time. This leads me to believe that they are on some kind of drug because they can't handle reality. If they were sober, they'd look just like me.

There's a few people at work who are always so damn chipper and laugh at EVERY G-D THING YOU SAY. I could say, "Man, I really don't feel good and I wish I was in bed right now" and they think it's chuckle-worthy. Follow that up with a generic response like, "yeah man that sucks." Is that a nervous reaction on their part? A twitch? All I know is that it's really annoying.

Where was I? Ah yes, we don't smile. Not like ever, but only smiling takes up about 1 percent of our total time. Unless we're drunk (likely) or hanging out together, smiling and being peppy just aren't a part of our repertoire. I'm always accused of not smiling at work or not being happy or looking pissed off. No, I'm fucking working! What's so great about work? Sure I'll ask you how your day was and pretend to care for a few minutes, but that's where it ends. I don't really want to hear about everybody's problems, I just want to do my work and go home. Now I've met some of my best friends through work and formed relationships that will probably last the rest of my life...for godsakes I met my wife there. I wouldn't give that up for anything.

What I'm trying to get at is that I forgot that while I know all of the technical aspects and requirements of the job, I forgot to sell myself. My personality. My charm. My people skills. I don't flash them often, but when I do, I tend to get along with people REALLY well. So for this upcoming interview, I'll be spending as much time researching and preparing to sell my professional self as my personal self. It's one of those life lessons I've had to learn the hard way.

Holy Mother of Skin

Today's high temperature in Portland, Oregon reached 97 degrees. Now this is way too hot for most people in the Pacific Northwest. When it gets hot, people wear less clothing. I don't have a problem with people who want to walk around with no shirt who are physically fit. It's the manatees and sasquatchian that bother me.

Now I'm sure that this epidemic isn't a local or regional thing. It's a national debacle that terrorizes the normals. I understand that it's hot outside and the heat makes you uncomfortable. But, for the love of all that is sacred, put some damn clothes on when you go outside.

Many things go through my mind when I see an unattractive female with the sun shining where it doesn't want to. They include:

Nobody I know would eat that muffin.
When did you think that tattoo was a good idea?
OMFG!
Please let those bikini strings hold.
I didn't know Coleman made swimsuits.
That reminds me, I need to pick up some cottage cheese.
That's an odd shape for a belly button.
Is that the front of you?

And for the grosser, manlier sex:

Why would you buy a sweater with nipples on it?
You need a bra my good sir.
Hey, there's your ass crack...I was wondering what that looked like.
I didn't know you could sweat right there.
Are they having a casting call for a Harry and the Hendersons remake?

I know these people will always be gross and don't care what people think. I applaud them for their lack of self awareness. But that's as far as my praise of these people goes.

If you appetite will allow it, I encourage you to visit The People of Walmart. There is a gallery of these types of everyday people and some pretty funny commentary to go along with it.

Hayden Thomas Dexheimer

Well a lot has happened since those tomatoes tried to ruin my hoagie. On September 1st, 2009, Nikki gave birth to a ten pounder! I started to get a little nervous the night before we went into the hospital because I knew he was coming and I hoped he would be healthy.

I could give a complete play-by-play of the day he was born, but that would bore you. It was about 9 hours into Nikki's labor when I was awakened from the most uncomfortable sofa by the doctor discussing with Nikki that a cesarean section would be necessary. That stubborn boy wasn't coming out on his own. Immediately, I felt like I was going to hyperventilate. I tried to keep calm by taking silent deep breaths. It seemed to work as they brought in scrubs for me and her mom to wear into the delivery room.

I think that the time between the doctors wheeling Nikki into the delivery room and the time we were actually allowed to enter the delivery room was the longest period of time I've ever imagined. I'm sure that if I had a stopwatch, it would have read like 15 minutes, but it seemed like 15 hours.

We finally got to go into the room and I felt like I walked into a refrigerator. It was maybe 50 degrees inside and I could feel it on my feet. See I wore size 13 flip flops to the hospital and the little booties didn't fit over them so I just wore the booties over my bare feet. Nikki was strapped to the table like Jesus. The combo of nerves, two epidurals, the cold room and other sedatives left her shivering like a Mexican in Alaska.

We made a b-line for two stools seated at Nikki's head and behind the curtain as to obstruct our view from the sawing and organ moving that was about to commence. The G-D anaesthesiologist had some of the worst 80's music playing on the stereo. Islands in the Stream doesn't calm me down ever. It makes me emit rage in normal settings. When my wife is strapped to an ironing board having people escort her abdomen out of the way, I definitely don't want to hear Dolly Parton's twang. It's not folksy, it sucks. The whole procedure took about 20 minutes to get baby out and 20 minutes to stitch Nikki up.

The doctors wouldn't let us leave the OR yet, so I was trying to show the throng of supporters in the hallway our new addition through a window that you couldn't squeeze a dictionary through. We finally got to go out in the hallway and everybody took turns drooling over him.

I know it's taken me ten months to write this blog, but I've been busy. Hayden is the best thing that Nikki and I have ever done and I cannot imagine my life without him. Oh, by the way, the stereo was playing "I Wanna Know What Love Is" by Foreigner when he was born. The picture below is of him (9 months) and I.

Fuck you tomatoes! You've failed to ruin my sandwich as you will fail to ruin my Independence Day!

Why Old People Need to be Stopped

I realize it's been a month and a half since I last blogged. Let's be real here. I can't update things as often as I'd like because my brain doesn't cooperate with my free time so I'm just going to do some blogging here and there and just so you don't have to check back everyday for new mind-blowing commentary, I'll just update you through my stati (plural for status?) on Facebook (facebook.com/dexheimer), MySpace (myspace.com/southeastproduct) and Twitter (twitter.com/dex503). Now, on to developing news...

I was groggy in the breakroom at work. It was 5:45AM. Usually while I wait to give my life away, I watch the local news. They did a story on Buzz Aldrin burgeoning rap career. Yes, you read that correctly. Mr. Aldrin, the second man on the moon, the national hero, the 79 year old white guy, is rapping about his voyage to the moon. His single, Rocket Experience, is available on iTunes to download.

First off, I'd like to hack into iTunes to see how many people have purchased this gem. Secondly, why has this been allowed to happen? Who thought this would ever be a great idea? Ok, the answer to that second question is Snoop Dogg, Quincy Jones, Talib Kweli, etc. Ok, and the proceeds go to Aldrin's charity. Whatever. I have no problem with people doing charity work or being interested in space travel and NASA. I do have a problem with the way Buzz, who will be henceforth referred to in this blog by his rap pseudonym, Doc Rendezvous, goes about raising money. Hold a G-D golf tournament or something. Sell some memorabilia. Write a book for f's sake! You'd probably make more money by standing on a corner in Orlando selling prune juice to other elderly people.

Maybe it's just me, but when I see an old person trying to be cool or doing something that they shouldn't, I get embarrassed for them, and then I get mad at them for making me feel bad for them. A good example of this is when old people try to play sports or skateboard. This isn't just Doc Rendezvous either. Most old people do things like this.


Let's keep the elderly in their comfort zones people. Please, continue to watch Jeopardy, crap yourselves in public places, drive 31 mph on the Interstate, yell at the drive thru operator, wear shorts with black dress socks pulled to your knees, drive a Rascal 31 mph in public places, be confused by new technology, vote Republican, etc. There is no place for you in a rap studio surrounded by men half your age smoking weed and calling you Doc Rendezvous.

Just for humor's sake, please listen to the sample on iTunes by clicking here.

I almost want to buy it and listen to the whole thing. Maybe I'll blip it.