That’s right. I, Rhodester, have gone out and got myself a job.

It’s not much of a job. It’s very part-time and seasonal. This is because it’s working as a staff member for games at one of the local universities and the games are part-time and seasonal.

I’m taking tickets, checking bags and making sure the people in attendance are having a good time and staying safe.

You know how you go to a game and see people standing around who have jackets that say “Event Staff” or something along that line?

That’s me now.

I can’t tell you which university because of that whole “blogging about your work” thing, and fortunately, there are enough universities here in San Francisco to keep you guessing.

Plus I might accidentally say something really stupid about another staff member, coach or a kid on one of the teams, so not only am I not going to tell you which school it is, I’m going to change all the names, but the stories will be true.

All of my stories are!

But I’ll just call it “Schlafoogleberg University.”

Yesterday I was at the first game, which was women’s soccer. My Irish friend Grandad at headrambles would call it “Football” but he’s wrong about that, which is why they don’t hire any Irish people for event staff.

Lord knows we want to be accurate here, and not give things inappropriate names.

I’ve never paid any attention to women’s soccer before, but yesterday I had to. I had no idea these young ladies were so tough! Seriously, they kick-ass!

I saw these two girls, Britney and Abigail, rush each other at high speed and take a flying leap at the ball, only to land in a twisted heap of cute.

Lines like that are why I have to call it Schlafoogleberg University and why I changed their names from Suzie and Chrissy to Britney and Abigail.

Suzie and Chrissy are even fake names. I changed them twice, to be extra careful.

They’re really Sandra and Lisa.

Fake. I’ve changed them three times so far.

Of course, if I tell you that Schlafoogleberg won last night and they have another game tomorrow, you can probably go on the internet (hey, you’re there already!) and extrapolate which women’s soccer team won on Friday and has another game on Sunday, and who Britney/Abigail/Suzie/Chrissy/Sandra/Lisa REALLY are.

But you really don’t care that much, do you?

Besides, the whole point of this post is to tell you that someone actually hired me for something.

This hasn’t happened in almost two years.

It’s like I’ve been under a curse because every job I’ve applied for since being laid-off in late 2008 has been a bust. I’ve had a total of three actual interviews in that time, the rest don’t even call.

I don’t know if I should blame the recession or stop wearing tutus to job interviews, but getting this is a start. It’s a real boost to the ego. It’s a fist-bump that tells me I’m okay after all and that I’m still worth something, and that someone is willing to take a chance on me and even pay me for standing around, albeit not in a tutu, because it turns out they don’t allow that at Schlafoogleberg University soccer games.

When I showed up yesterday, I had to change into slacks and a blue “Event Staff” jacket but the boss was nice enough to let me hang my tutu in the locker room until it was all over.

I go back tomorrow for another game, where the Schlafoogleberg SeaMonkeys are going to be playing the Ohio Boogers.

I changed the name of the opposing team too.

They’re really the Gulf Coast Oilers.

Not.

I’m hoping the SeaMonkeys win again, because I like seeing college girls really happy. The girls on the other team weren’t that happy but they just went back to Wisconsin, so we didn’t have to deal with them.

Okay, Texas.

Idaho?

Heh.

The Schlafoogleberg University SeaMonkeys women's soccer team gets ready for the next big game

Grandad enjoys negative comments at Head RamblesI suppose I should go ahead and mention Grandad on my blog, since he went and mentioned me.

He’s a feisty (Irish word that means drunk concerned) senior citizen who lives in a little village somewhere in Ireland.  There’s a pub there too, and a whole cast of colorful characters that frequent it.  He writes about all of them.

He also writes about noisy neighbors, tourists, squirrels and Guinness.  Thanks to him, I now know how to properly consume a Guinness should I ever visit a pub in an Irish village, which will probably be never, which is also thanks to him.

He scared the hell out of me.

Someday they’ll turn his accounts into a movie and cast as many Irish actors in it as they can – Colm Meany, Colin Farrell, Aidan Gillen, Pierce Brosnan and, of course, Peter O’Toole to play Grandad.

Turns out they have the internet in Ireland – even in those little villages – so he puts what he writes into a blog and publishes it for his friends, but thousands of other people see it too, and comment on it.  He pretends to be frustrated by all that exposure and notoriety but he’s not fooling anyone.

He’d pretend to be frustrated about this write-up too, and he’d definitely say I’d better not link him on my blogroll in the sidebar, but that’s just too bad.  I like what he has to say and I think you would too.

Lorna from Lorna In Wonderland visited his site and, in the comment section of this post, the following was said..

# Lorna on 23 Oct 2007 at 3:44 pm

I came over by way of Rhodester, who is a brilliant storyteller even though he never remembers the difference between “its” and “it’s”, and I’m gonna have to put you on my blogroll.

# Grandad IRELAND on 23 Oct 2007 at 4:07 pm

Its nice that you dropped by, Lorna. I misread your comment for a second – I thought you were going to put me on your blog roll. I’m glad that isn’t the case and I’m honoured.

You see, I’m onto him.  He’s doing what I did during the 8th grade dance.

I acted shy and stood against the wall, pretending to be too scared to get out on the dance floor.  Eventually a girl came up and asked me to have a go at it, and I turned her down.  Then a prettier girl came up and, after that, an even prettier one and so on, until they were all tugging at my shirt sleeve and pleading for me to dance with them.  Finally, that sexy little tart Robyn Setter came over and yanked me away, to drag me out onto the dance floor.

Okay I wasn’t pretending at first, I really didn’t know how to dance, and I was terrified of Robyn Setter. But Grandad knows how to dance and he’s just getting a royal kick out of all the pretty girls who are tugging on his shirt sleeve, wanting to put him on their blogrolls.

The more he says he doesn’t want it, the more he gets it. He’s had about 74,359 blog visitors this week alone, and I believe The Today Show is trying to get him on a plane to New York for an interview, but Ireland won’t let him leave because who’d keep them entertained?  He wouldn’t like New York City anyway because there are Americans there, albeit not a lot.

Be warned that if YOU’RE an American, and you decide to comment over at Grandad’s blog, wear protective eye wear and clothing.  You also might want to buy the house a round before you really say anything, just to get them all good and loose first.  And don’t talk sports or politics unless you really enjoy diving headfirst through pub windows.

Head Rambles

Oh MY, the auld fella went and wrote a book too!

Head Rambles: With Ireland’s Most Cantankerous Auld Fella