Holidaytime

I like it. Last weekend was fun with my family and this weekend is fun with the inlaws (so far). I got bombed last night with my father-in-law drinking chilled Grey Goose. That's always a good sign.

So my new job starts on Tuesday. I'm a quiver with anticipation as I think it will give me the oppurtunity to post more here and write more often. My old job, as bad this sounds, was taking up too much of my time. The whole point of having a day job in front of a computer, IMHO, is so that I can work on the things I really care about while earning money from the man. The new job will be able to that much more efficiently. At least I hope so. It's hard to determine that during the interview process.

Interviewer- Do you have any questions for me?

Me- Um, will I be able to jerk off on the internet?

Interviewer- Yes. I do it all the time.

Me- Sold!

What else are blogs for?

I officially quit my job three minutes ago. I was nervous and anxious all day because I knew I would have to tell my bosses I was out the door on January First like so many New Year's Resolutions. It is liberating. The copier doesn't work you say? Fuck you. You need some staples? Buy your own, bitch. The next two weeks are going to be awesome...

Of course, I'm just going from one corporate chump job to another but at least I'm doing it of my own free will. These a-holes were the first to hire me into this white slavery, and for that I thank them, but it's time I moved on from the lowest rung.

For posterity's sake, I am reprinting my resignation letter here. Ps. None of the names were changed to protect anyone. These are actually the fuckheads I work for.

Bob Jingle
*** Bedford Ave.
Brooklyn, NY 11211

Charles Fuckstick
The Bear and the Bull
Internal Audit Department
*** Park Ave
New York, NY 10022

December 19^th, 2006

To Mr. Charles Fuckstick:

Please accept this letter as formal resignation of my position as administrative assistant with The Bear and the Bull's Internal Audit Department.

Friday, December 29^th, will be my last day of employment with the company.

I want to thank you for the opportunity to work with such a magnificent organization of enlightened, supportive, and creative individuals. It is sad to leave, but you are all flaming ass-mongerers. Fuck you, I'm out.

Sincerely,



Bob Jingle
Administrative Assistant

cc

Marvin Poopmaster
Bob Jewtard
Marshall McLuhan
Brent "I Touch Girls" Hamfist

They Actually Are Giants!

On Saturday, I saw a band perform that has not forgotten that rock can be fun. Too much of our modern musical landscape is a dreary melancholic mess. There's really only so much that can be said about love unrequited or being cheated on.

They Might Be Giants have a few songs about that shit (I think), but most of their subjects are obscure references to 19th century presidents, Belgian painters or the classification of species.

I'll write more on the show later but for now, look at this monkey:

MLB.com

The other day, my friend forwarded a job listing to me for MLB.com. Basically, they are looking for beat writers for each of the 30 MLB teams. While I would love to cover the Sox, I don't really want to move to Boston any time soon.

Anyway, here's what I wrote to apply to be a writer here in NY.

Dear MLB.com,

I love baseball. I grew up a Red Sox fan in the embroiled border state of Connecticut where half my peers remember 1986 with ectasy, the other half with despair. My family would take annual trips to Fenway, mostly at my insistence since neither of my forebears were very much into sports. I remember the feeling of the old Fenway, before the boxes and the Monster seats, with reverance and I still keep a special place in the cockle of my heart for anyone named Duey, or Marty, or Spike.

More recently, living in New York for the past six years has kept me on the front lines of the greatest rivalry in sports. I follow each game and hot stove rumor with the glee of a kid waiting for Christmas morning. And while I get to go to Fenway less often than I'd like, I have embraced the Mets as the lesser of the NY evil empires. Pedro's defection only made my affection for the Amazin's grow, despite Boston Dirt Dogs feeble cries for all Red Sox Nation to damn him. And now that the 20 year Anniversary season is past, it's time to let bygones get the hell out of dodge and start writing for MLB.com covering the Mets.

I've been a writer all my life. I've written videogame articles under deadlines for The Escapist Magazine and Next Generation, but nothing is as tight a deadline as performing stand up comedy here in New York as I have for the past 2 years. If you don't have material before you go on, you're screwed.

I'm excited to meet with you to discuss my credentials. Contact me via my cell, 917.***.****, or email me at ****@*****.***. Talk to you soon.

Sincerely,

Bob Jingle

That job is mine!!!!!

Underground is where it's at

Had a good time at the Underground last Friday. Met a lot of nice comic people, and even did well with a mic in my hand.

I have a guest spot coming to me up there two Fridays from now on the 15th. More on that later.

But for now, I have to ditch my office holiday party and have some people read a script of mine.

Welcome gregtito.com people

So now this blog is the destination for redirects from gregtito.com.

This is good thing.

Although temporary.

Eventually, I will have a wham bang website that will combine all of my various pursuits under one deftly designed and amazingly implemented website, full of bells, whistles and something called flash. Or is it Flash?

For now, bask in the goodness that is gregtito.com.