Talking application form blues in D minor
Holy sweet Jesus, Mary mother of fucking God and Tetragrammaton of the Jews,
I'm talkin' about the application form blues!
Thirty such forms have I filled in within the space of ten days of job searching. You know you've done one too many when you start remembering things like your national insurance number and which date you left Holland for the twelfth time.
I'd rather watch Mission impossible two with Tom Cruise,
But I is talkin' about the application form blues!
I really don't know what's so important about what I was doing on March the 26th 1994, nor why a job should care about what I was doing in France in 1996. I mean, for fuck's sake, it's more than ten years ago! The next thing you know they'll be wanting to know which brand of diet coke I like to drink and what the average length of my penis is.
It's a beaurocratic jungle out there; paper work zoos,
I'm talkin' about the application form blues!
One security job application form wanted a tracable history for ten years. I wrote: "You can't fuckin' trace me back two months, so what ya gonna do about it then? Sucker!"
They didn't reply.
From tramping to the post office, I need brand new shoes,
I'm payin' the application form blues!
Every single detail going back to 16 years of age. That's what most employers want. It's madness. Sheer and utter bollocks as well!
How the hell are they going to trace what I was doing when I was 17? Huh? No fucking way. Are they really going to phone up a kibbutz (which probably no longer exists; sunk with every other communist value worth mentioning) to see if I was really cleaning tables there? Like fuck they can or will.
My fingers are hurtin', they're throbbin' by twos,
That's from writing the application form blues!
Now, I'm a reasonable guy. Sure, I get my knickers in a twist about various things, but generally I'm easy going. I even wrote a CV.
They (sick, demented and twisted organisations, companies and people who think they are bosses) don't want CV's anymore. No, they want you to fill out their proffesional looking appli-fucking-cation forms. Every single application form asks basically the same questions and because it's on paper you can't copy and paste your CV on to it.
My easy-goingness is fading. Hell yes it is. I'm losing the plot and slowly but surely I feel a final act of desperation creeping up on me. Yes. I think I'm going to join Al Qaeda.
I'm getting enangered, I'm blowing a fuse,
I'm talkin' about the application form blues!
Yup. Join a terrorist cell and blow up beaurocracies. Kill them. Kill them all. Fuck fuck FUCKITY FUCK. They don't deserve to live with their pretentious and feeble little tricksies to make my life a living hell. They deliberately want me to stress. The mother fucking, good for nothing, brainless masses. Fuck them. Fuck them all to hell!
Let them fill in their little forms and dance their little rituals. I'm above that. I'm a fucking JEDI. I'm GOD. I don't...
I need some drugs, that's one of many truths,
I is sufferin' the application form blues!
And with song writing skills like mine, I should be a rock & roll fucking star too!
I'm talkin' about the application form blues!
Thirty such forms have I filled in within the space of ten days of job searching. You know you've done one too many when you start remembering things like your national insurance number and which date you left Holland for the twelfth time.
I'd rather watch Mission impossible two with Tom Cruise,
But I is talkin' about the application form blues!
I really don't know what's so important about what I was doing on March the 26th 1994, nor why a job should care about what I was doing in France in 1996. I mean, for fuck's sake, it's more than ten years ago! The next thing you know they'll be wanting to know which brand of diet coke I like to drink and what the average length of my penis is.
It's a beaurocratic jungle out there; paper work zoos,
I'm talkin' about the application form blues!
One security job application form wanted a tracable history for ten years. I wrote: "You can't fuckin' trace me back two months, so what ya gonna do about it then? Sucker!"
They didn't reply.
From tramping to the post office, I need brand new shoes,
I'm payin' the application form blues!
Every single detail going back to 16 years of age. That's what most employers want. It's madness. Sheer and utter bollocks as well!
How the hell are they going to trace what I was doing when I was 17? Huh? No fucking way. Are they really going to phone up a kibbutz (which probably no longer exists; sunk with every other communist value worth mentioning) to see if I was really cleaning tables there? Like fuck they can or will.
My fingers are hurtin', they're throbbin' by twos,
That's from writing the application form blues!
Now, I'm a reasonable guy. Sure, I get my knickers in a twist about various things, but generally I'm easy going. I even wrote a CV.
They (sick, demented and twisted organisations, companies and people who think they are bosses) don't want CV's anymore. No, they want you to fill out their proffesional looking appli-fucking-cation forms. Every single application form asks basically the same questions and because it's on paper you can't copy and paste your CV on to it.
My easy-goingness is fading. Hell yes it is. I'm losing the plot and slowly but surely I feel a final act of desperation creeping up on me. Yes. I think I'm going to join Al Qaeda.
I'm getting enangered, I'm blowing a fuse,
I'm talkin' about the application form blues!
Yup. Join a terrorist cell and blow up beaurocracies. Kill them. Kill them all. Fuck fuck FUCKITY FUCK. They don't deserve to live with their pretentious and feeble little tricksies to make my life a living hell. They deliberately want me to stress. The mother fucking, good for nothing, brainless masses. Fuck them. Fuck them all to hell!
Let them fill in their little forms and dance their little rituals. I'm above that. I'm a fucking JEDI. I'm GOD. I don't...
I need some drugs, that's one of many truths,
I is sufferin' the application form blues!
And with song writing skills like mine, I should be a rock & roll fucking star too!
posted by Mark at 2:11 PM
8 Comments:
Dude, I want to sent you a six-pack.
But as you won't be able to drink it due to joblessity I won't and I'm gonna drink it myself. Over thinking the fact that I'm missing my best drinking buddy :-(
"Gimme another drink ya mista bartender. And if ya don't I'm gonna stick yer dick in the blender"
dude, what you need is some goddamn chocolate, some Kiefer Sutherland and some Sandra Kim to sing you happy tunes. You're way too young to be so sarcastic (ha!) so here goes:
J'aime la vie - Sandra Kim
Je vois des gens courber le dos
Comme si la vie marquait zro
Moi j'ai quinze ans et je te dis
Whoa whoa... j'aime la vie
(J'aime la vie - la vie, toute la vie)Il faut y croire, j'ai moi aussi
Des flashs d'espoir, des insomnies
Mais au total, l'addition
J'aime l'horizonJ'aime, j'aime la vie
(Mme si c'est une folie)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Bravo pour le dfi)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
Ne m'en veuillez pas
Je suis ne comme a
J'aime, j'aime la vieWhoa... et tant pis
S'il pleut un peu beaucoup sur moi
Whoa whoa... tu es lDevant Jacques Brel, devant Mozart
Je m'sens petite, j'ai le cafard
Je ne suis rien qu'une poussire
Dans cet univers
(C'est la vie - la vie, toute la vie)
Mais ds qu'tu m'aimes, ds qu'tu souris
Mes joies s'enchanent l'infini
Y a plus de Brel, plus de Mozart
Ma vie redmarre
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Mme si c'est une folie)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Bravo pour le dfi)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
Ne m'en veuillez pas
Je suis ne comme a
J'aime, j'aime la vie
Tant pis s'il pleut un peu sur moi
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Mme si c'est une folie)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Bravo pour le dfi)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
Ne m'en veuillez pas
Je suis ne comme a
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Mme si c'est une folie)
J'aime, j'aime la vie
(Bravo pour le dfi)
Pour les jours qui n'vont pas
J'ai un truc moi
Je compte sur toi
J'aime, j'aime la vie
Whoa... et tant pis
S'il pleut un peu beaucoup sur moi
Whoa whoa... la vie - oui, tu es l
is dat niet geweldig.
Staple a copy of your CV to the form, and then fill in all the boxes on the form with "Please see attached CV".
^ ^
00
=+=
v
Su...I can't read German.
Futurecat...they specifically state: "Don't send a CV, it will mean automatic disqualification".
Which obviously gets on my tits. Just who the fuck do they think they are???
Dude...Bastard.
and you have big tits
plus it's French Harvard
Well apparently even Al Qaeda wants you to fill out an application form: http://talkleft.com/new_archives/013701.html
Excellent, love it! » »
Best regards from NY! »
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