Category Archives: ramblin’

Top 8 Worst Behavioral Interview Questions

You know you’ve been asked one of the worst interview questions when your interview turns into an outerview to leave. If you’ve ever thought to yourself “I gotta get outta here,” chances are you were confronted by an awkward or ridiculous job interviewer or experience. Here are the top 10 (un)best behavior interview questions.

  1. Tell me about a time where you had to see yourself in 5 years and failed to fire your potential boss but overcame a change despite getting the work done late while multitasking in a workplace with high discrimination.
  2. If you could choose for anyone to be alive or deceased to have lunch with, would you eat with someone alive or deceased?
  3. If you could be a slave to an alien creature, what would you be?
  4. Does it bother you if I continue this interview while standing closely behind you so you can’t see me and I’ll be eating pungent cheese?
  5. Tell me about a time that you didn’t work well with a supervisor. What was the outcome and how would you have changed the outcome if the outcome included you severely injuring the supervisor and covering up the evidence?
  6. Why do you think you will be successful at your job when your career is going down the toilet?
  7. Tell me about a time when you participated in a team, and you were asked to stop hitting on the members, physically or sexually? What measures did you take to ensure that others didn’t snitch on you.
  8. How many years does it take you to do simple tasks? Explain the most difficult situation that is simple for everyone else, but you were not intelligent enough to accomplish the task in a timely manner. How did you bring the bad news to your boss and what company rules did you break to keep your job.

I felt angles of this life dimension

I am sinking into this hopeless bliss. Everything couldn’t be more unsettling. I can’t accomplish a thing without paying a figurative fee to society. I have no interest in my behavior. I don’t realize my facadistic impulses until someone brings them to my attention deficit disorder. I don’t care if my lifespan doesn’t match the posthuman. What have I that will hack my existence? Most of my parts work like when they were new. Devoid direction is my mapless conquest. I am soothed by the unexpected. I claim to live in it with ease; I now put it under reconsideration.

Reconstructing the dream sequence involves going back to sleep and when I say “back to sleep” I mean sleeping back then/not on your back/not returning where you left off. Sleepful content is had when learning happens, when learnedness is applied, and when there the uncontrolled yields a potential quality. This sleep is life to me. But I am also literally tired of sleeping and waking. Let it be one or the other. I now can handle both with equal interest, but trouble through shuffling the deck of nights and days. Tonight might be a face card where I get too much sleep or deuce to depravity.

What kind of precision can you achieve if you arbitrarily make a compound miter cut (CONFUSE MYSELF)? The final products are invisible to me and is there a good angle or a technique that works or does it even matter? I can help from being a rear-view filmmaker. I don’t need to record my life. Replays aren’t where I can live. Boy am I glad I am not finished with the filmography. Girl am I sad that I can’t focus on the current production. Nobody is the devine director.

Emotions are like magnetic fields, attracting its opposite. The element of reality known as NOW is rhetorical surface tension.

comma, period, semicolon cancer

Language equalizes into self-ref. It’s its own referee. Look at Language’s resume- all the references are itself. Grammar and I stand back and watch the parade.

You can’t escape language. We build buildings and construction workers rearrange dirt and put commas where, they seem, fitting. And the period. We shall stop. Or so we have been invited to. Unless you think decimally with your 99.2% accuracy. When that dot becomes the antonym of a period- a green light- we no longer need to sit in traffic and wait intersections no longer matter we can flow together joined by a nonstop joyride until we strike something a brick wall a solid force as we approach with thunderous speeds the vehicle is demolished this vehicle is language and we have found our dead end with signs to mark our final stop;

Talk is Cost-Effective

If you multiply
the times you said something,
I will divide
the times I heard them.

Shop for the correct words while super-marketing. The cheapness of speaking is not stifled by inflation. Ready for the lips to close? You will be dismayed to hear quotation marks in their place. Roaring airs will spout from sealed mouths like a leaky valve. Sewage. Spewage. For the sake of Pete, put a leash on that clich-(eh).

Seminars on who to tell, why to tell, tell you how, tell you now, tell you what, tell you when. Rent the hotels to speak about meeting speakers who rent the hotels that meet renters who speak about hotels that speak meters of rent for speaking about hotels that meet rent for speech. Put some lipstick where your money goes. Talk is cost-effective.

Pass the Herpes, Jessica Alba

Being an expert on genital herpes, I know for a fact that experts know a lot about Herpes Simplex.

300px-jessica_alba_comiccon.JPG

Unfortunately that’s as far as it goes. Some adoring Alba fans are in mass hysteria with the alleged news of outbreak heaven known as Herpes. An insider had to fill Valtrex prescriptions for her supposedly. And even though nobody can confirm anything, they’ll place the cause on Derek Jeter. Then it snowballs with everyone who slept with everyone.

The reality is pretty scarring. Taking into consideration the entire US (not just celebrities), 1 in 4 people have an STD. So people who pass off others as sluts or whatever need to realize that about 25% are just as slutty according to your criteria. HSV2 (Herpes of the genitalia) is almost as common.

Is this a turn off to Jessica’s fanbase? L.A. Rag Mag points out that plenty of other perfect body beauties have blemishes on their intimate areas, but it doesn’t detract much of their approval rating. I’d be interested if someone did some dirty research and wrote a sociological book about the subject of STDs of famous people and how others perceive and react. Is there a higher standard for them? A lower standard? Does the perception differ from ordinary people?

your nudity is showing

Foreshadowing

“You’re never more naked than when you’re fully dressed”

The sound of one hand clapping
~lalallalalalalalalalalala~

I was at Pei Wei and esta chica Rachel was there, we was there for the Scriv ya know? anyway we gets to talking about Dhyana Buddhism (or zen for you who don’t know the difference between the Lakota and the sioux). Anyways so I told her to listen to the sound of one hand clapping. Typically (for her) she immediately descends upon the process of devouring my proposition. (ya’ll know if you eat too fast you ain’t getting the right nutrients and all…indigestion; system crash) anyway. so she gets to thinking about the simplest and quickest answer (not as to answer the question but to get it out of her way) and says “I get it…it’s silence….” To which I say yeah yeah…cool….yeah….. (NO)….

For though one’s hand doesn’t make sound alone (save mayve for the bat’s who can hear my fingers move) one can still hear the noise of the hand as imagined in the mind. The hand simultaneously does and doesn’t make noise; though this is not a contradiction as I have said, literally it is not producing sound waves which are audible to humans; however even if one were to become deaf they sill have the noise within the mind. This is what it means for me to listen to the sound of one hand clapping. Your clothed body is the most sublime erotica. BEWARE children, not to corrupt the sacred circuit of the kiss, the holy placebo channel of the brain. Tainted windows U238, maxim, higher potency, higher toxicity, surrounding micro-nutrients and towns neglected and left to radioactive decay.

So I was showering naked. Things got werse from then. I believed in were-animals for a moment and wondered if they exist, would they wear clothes. Normally one does not expect them to, but if they shapeshift would they still be wearing the clothing? I won’t be able to sleep until I can settle into the truth of the unactualized beings.

Don’t call it murder when I feed
It’s just the nourishment I need
I cannot curb this appetite
Or I’ll disturb my natural plight
So what if I’m a wolf on full moon nights
I’m still part man and I’ve got rights
I’m sniffin’ out the blood and I take bites!

I like lycanthropy.

“The vampire converts quality, live blood, vitality, youth, talent, into quantity, food and time for himself. He perpetrates the most basic betrayal of the human spirit, reducing all human dreams to his shit. And that’s the wrongest wrong a man can be.” -William S Burroughs

no real life is static

I put my life on the spot. Just think of where it’s going. I’ve got to be wise and keep it on track. The facts are right here to find. I’m searching within myself for the answer. You can only feel how you really feel and reject or accept the reality. You decide its worth and outcome. My life is not false.

I couldn’t understand some parts of this article but I guess I just need to check some more resources regarding this, because it sounds interesting.

I confuse myself. I need a bachelor’s degree from the University and a 4.0 GPA. I need to be a bar hopper to get a record in high jumping.

Some people like to think there’s a cosmic connection to one another; a subtle telepathy, like when two people from across the world discover something about the same time without any direct contact with each other. I don’t really find support for this as a paranormal occurrence, because they have the same utilities of the era to make the discovery by.

But what if we could share dreams?
While sleeping we’d interact
in a networked realm
not linked with the physical
world you think of when
you wake up.

But what if we could share dreams? As in experience and shape dreams together. Isn’t that life? Yet people seem fragmented with each other so the dream becomes an isolated state of paralyzed reality. I personally have a comfort in dreams and I think it justified. But I should dream within the waking world. Most dreams lack hyperbole of self-consciousness of my actions within the dream scenario. To hyperbolize self-consciousness would be to think that my contribution is the over-realized center of the situation (a geocentric sun-spin-around-the-earth viewpoint). You freeze frame yourself to look behind and ahead and feel concerned about the chunks rather than just dreaming through it so as to overemphasize a characteristic of it pertaining to the self. I’m pondering applying the anti-hyperbole to waking life. While not entirely disregarding all cares beyond myself, I’d be living a realer life if I modeled myself like an uninhibited dreamer. I’d go beyond stream-of-consciousness. I would be the stream, flowing through reality instead of spectating like first-person machinery.

“You can never step into the same river twice” -Heraclitus
“You can’t step into the same river even once” -Cratylus

The present isn’t one capturable unit, but a moving block without defined shape or limits. Instead of “the present,” we should start calling it “the presents” without literalizing the plurality.

mantra
no real life is static
static is no real life
static is real no life
life is real static no?
no static is real life
no real is static life
life is real no static
real is no static life

So I should kill someone just because in dreamworld the rules don’t apply and I’ll will just wake up?

Instead, turn life into your dream; not your dream into a life.

turn life into your dream makes past events not so relevant to you, as previous actions are not indicative of your behavior nor should they concern you in a way that it defines you permanently.

turn your dream into a life puts you in the same boat as a crazy serial killer (a kind of disregard for the dream itself; or a philosophy of dreaming your life away; an excuse for druggies).


Things I want for Christmas

Santa, family, friends, me, or anyone listening can give this grateful creature:
-a new spine
-care from others; sincerity
-unexpensive gifts that come from dreams
-companionship and ability to express myself intimately
-vacation
-insight into unfinished business of mine
-genius ideas
-family turmoil resolution
-honesty
-lump of coal (for my hookah), peppermint flavored
-an eased spirit
-ability to cook food that tastes good
-competency and uncommon sense

And for New Years, I hope to not hear of a single “Resolution.” I will not be having any. They are poor excuses for weak-willed individuals. N.Y.R.’s are asking to be broken. I’d rather just commit to doing what I want without going overboard. For some, it will be holding off on getting laid so often. Others will lay off the chocolate. Not me. I just won’t have my favorite dark chocolate as much as I have been the past week. It is my crutch that I don’t need. Methinks I’m rambling. Go ahead with New Years Resolutions, just don’t make them in order to break them. Set achievable goals and pick yourself up if you fall. The steps of a baby is the pace of a slow but determined winner. Today my goal is to eat dinner instead of eating chocolate candy bars.

I’d like to fulfill someone else’s wishes if it can be done with an empty bank account. I can’t make my secret getaway right now as a broke gal, so I’ll settle for staring at pictures of it online.

Aching Back Blues

Ridden with pain,
Discomfort seeps in.
The new is very old.
The strong is now weak.

I have the aching back blues.
I just want it to go away.
I can’t get rid of it.
I just want it to stop.
I have the aching back blues.

Lately I’ve been moaning inside my head. I have a back injury. Everyone I know seems to have back problems. A third of everyone at work has back issues and we are all secretaries who do no lifting and we get breaks. My dad has metal in his back and he complains in the cold. In the meantime, I’ll do some yoga and strengthen my trunk. And eat less junk food.

There was a guy I knew who had this scarring done to him. His name was Greig, or at least that’s what I knew him as. He was some bum who’d pass by my work in the morning.

Legalize Same Sex Abortion

I am not the political woman, but I must voice myself in the debate to a controversial issue. In the homosexual hotbed of America lies millions of would-be children. That is okay. Population control at work. Abortion isn’t a fun thing for anybody, especially the baby. As part of an affirmative action initiative, we should waive abortion restrictions for gays and lesbians of all creed and color and allow them to be first in line at abortion clinics. Even homosexual toddlers should have extra rights that protect their right to choose. Gay children should be able to choose which bathroom they attend.