but begging's not my business

When I was driving home from work yesterday, I passed a fairly well abused red hatchback. A bumpersticker was slapped onto it that read Don't mess with a Texas woman. So I had to catch a glimpse as I was passing the heap, and sure enough, the only person inside it was a man, baby! And there's another reason San Francisco always wins.

Stereogum has a link to the Decembrists covering Up The Junction, if you want to go take a listen. I am ambivalent about it, as I am about covers in general. Some covers I absolutely adore, especially subversive ones that completely redefine the original (Paul Anka covering Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun, or really, that entire Paul Anka album, when you get right down to it). Others are sacrilegious (Amy Grant covering Joni Mitchell's Big Yellow Taxi comes to mind as particularly disturbing). Still others are like this one; they cause you to shrug your shoulders and wonder why you aren't just listening to the original. Squeeze makes me feel like I'm a teenager, and why not feel like an adolescent rather than a supposedly hip adult?

What do you get when you diss The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Asia, and speed dating? A position as a movie reviewer for the SF Chron of course! The Chron, along with the rest of the free world, seems to have much affection for The 40-year old virgin. Anyone may know my adoration for both members of the Even Stev/phens team. I feel a sense of duty to see Carell's first leading man movie on opening night. There's just one problem, and that problem is a red state with cheap real estate and skyrocketing obesity rates.

My flight is at the crack of dawn tomorrow, and there are several things that have me completely underwhelmed about this trip:

• Texas, August. I'll just let y'all stew over that, just like I'll be stewing tomorrow.
  
• The subpar company that's interviewing me is putting me up in The Holiday Inn. I guess I should be happy that it's not Motel 6, but I really did consider just staying with my family instead of even spending an evening in the hotel.
  
• I'm supposed to interview with fourteen people on Monday. That's one day, fourteen people.
  
• Today, the HR buffoons who have been completely incompetent through this whole process sent me the interview schedule, and on it, it says I'm a candidate for an Assistant XX position. My current title is Senior XX position. Look, I know I probably sound like a royal jacka$$ right now. But consider the facts: I love San Francisco, the company I currently work for is 5 times as large and prestigious as the inky dink place that's interviewing me, and they've already said they'll be paying me less than what I get paid here. While I didn't care about the pay, the demotion in title seemed like the final slap that sent me over the edge.

Despite my urge to cancel the entire excursion, I am going. There is my cousin K to see, so there is a chunk of gold in a pile full of mud.

Random thought to close out the week: is it just me or can you actually feel your arteries start to clog when nibbling on a frosted Pop Tart?