When you're a working stiff, a holiday usually means a day off. When you aren't working, holidays are just another day. When you're desperately looking for work, a holiday is a day you can't look for work! Aaaauuuuuuuggghhhh! Nothing to report, since I am freakin' glued to craigslist 24/7. Maybe I should look on the holiday as a blessed opportunity to tear myself from the computer and have some fun, maybe like this:

LABOR DAY WET T AND A '99 (#2)

Well, I am still jobless and seriously starting to panic. I have two unemployment checks left. I remain ever optimistic, however, and just keep trying.

I was in the running to work at the new rehab in Sausalito. The day I found out I didn't get the job (which I really wanted, sigh), the place made the news. Apparently nobody told the good citizens or city government of Sausalito that a rehab was going in. Big stink. Scared a bunch of drunken sots are going to be escaping and heading down the road to no name bar. Whatever. What made me sit up and take notice was the fee: $48,000 a MONTH. They weren't even going to pay me that much a YEAR. Hmph. Close call. (I'd still take it if they asked - working in the lap of luxury is not a bad gig.)

As an aside, I hear Amy Winehouse stopped saying no no no and got her ass to rehab.

DEBBIE GOES TO REHAB

MILEAGE

Caught this in an email going around - found it apropos:

A 2006 study by Texas A&M University found that the average American
walks about 900 miles per year.

Another study by the American Beer Institute found that Americans drink
an average of 22 gallons of beer a year.

This means, on average, Americans get approximately 41 miles per gallon.

Not bad...

I've been having interviews at an assisted living facility for seniors. It's quite upscale. The thing it has most made me realize is that the chances are very good I will be living in a refrigerator box under the freeway when I am old, because I'll never be able to pay the 4 to 6 grand a month to live in a place like this one. Holy Crap. They show movies, but probably not like this one (it amazes me there are 14 more just like it):

HEY MY GRANDMA IS A WHORE #15

Yesterday I ventured forth with a visiting friend to the Ferry Plaza Market Building (whatever the heck it's called). I had never been there, knowing it would be beyond my budget. It is beyond my budget but I splurged a little and ogled the $4/lb nectarines and peaches (I got some pluots the other day at 22nd and Irving for the remarkable and retro price of 29 cents a pound). We had chowder and salads and gelato, and I bought a bottle of blood-orange olive oil. Donna bought exotic cheeses to take home and we sat out by the water. it's a nice place, and perfect for
SALAD EATING SLUTS