Your Unemployed Daughter

Perhaps I didn’t know him, exactly, but I did tear many a page featuring his boyish visage from the pages of my Tiger Beat and/or Bop magazines, and I stuck them to my walls (all the better to gaze at) despite my parents hating that they’d eventually have to repaint my glorious seafoam green room.

It’s true, Wil Wheaton was really my youthful crush of choice, and then of course I went the hair band route (in an attempt to bring me back to earth my mother once told me that my great unrequited love, Sebastian Bach, probably had so many zits that he couldn’t see himself in the mirror for all the pus he’d squeezed onto it. Thanks, Mom, for that!).

But the Coreys also held a special place in my unjaded (at that time) heart, mostly due to a fantastic piece of entertainment called The Lost Boys (they don’t make soundtracks like that anymore, and, hey Stephenie Meyer, you didn’t make up vampires having fun!).

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photo credit: splityarn

Few things make me more cranky than waiting for money that’s due to me. I’ve trained myself not to even expect a check until after the first 30 days post invoicing, but when someone tells you it’s going to be sent on one day, and then it isn’t, it’s even worse than if they’d told you it was going to be 60 days in the first place.

That said, I realize companies have their own systems of paying you, and I’m sure those are highly intricate and complex machinations, but God, man! I have my own needs for the money I’ve earned (past tense) from you.

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