Do You Feel Like You Have the Flu?
West Coast Clinical Trials is seeking people between the ages of 12-65 who have flu-like symptoms (fever, aching, sore throat) to participate in a clinical research study.
Qualified Participants must be:
Between 12-65 years old
Have flu-like symptoms
A fever of 100oF at screening
Qualified Participants may receive:
Up to $150 for time and travel
Study-related healthcare
An investigational medication
To see if you qualify call:
1-877-777-9228
They missed me by a few weeks, I'm slightly annoyed I missed out on $150 for my misery. To make myself feel better I flagged the post as spam. That's my new thing, to temper my misery at my current lack of professional success, whenever I see a job posting that insults me in some manner, I flag it as spam on craigslist and submit the link to abovethelaw.com with the following message:
$90k in student loans for THIS? arrrrghTHGHoaeir;hai#)(&$097ajgkawjfewaljfa!!!!!!!!!
My own subtle, ineffective form of protest. But in any case, clinical flu studies and attorney jobs offering a whopping $45,000 a year seem to be what the city of Los Angeles has to offer us newly minted esqs. Which leaves me wondering if I should, after 27 years, spread my wings and tear myself away from my favorite city.
I am thinking AUSTIN, TEXAS. Here are the pros of AUSTIN, TEXAS (seems like it's the type of place to deserve all caps) (please note that the following reflects my personal biases and internalized stereotypes and I do not wish to be informed of the actual truth of anything whatsoever):
1. COWBOYS
I grew up kind of obsessed with old school cowboy movies. High Noon, Destry Rides Again, Cat Ballou...and John Wayne in Stagecoach is just yyyyyum. What's not to love about a cowboy? Fringed chaps, warm tan, manly calloused hands, fine lines from squinting below the the hot, dusty desert sun, winged Stetson, a pair of Peacemakers perfectly holstered across his slow moving hips. He speaks in a Matthew McConaughey drawl and loves his mom. He can ride a bull better than any UCLA sorority sister at the Saddle Ranch Chop House and won't pay more than $40 for a pair of jeans.
2. COWBOY BOOTS
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE they are teh CUTENESS!!!!!!!! Want. I am going to American Vintage on Melrose tonight to get a pair to the tune of $34 if Yelp speaks the truth. I've kind of wanted a pair since seeing paparazzi photos of Britney Spears rocking her Miss Capezio butterfly boots circa 2002ish. But I've never taken the plunge. I once wore a cowboy hat to my physics class in high school, a real Stetson felt cowboy hat. I received a round of applause and a lot of laughs and am still a bit damaged from the experience. The hat was then donated to my father who wore it for several years as sun protection while walking the dogs outside, but lost it on a trip to Crater Lake. Sometimes I wonder if it found a new home on some Oregonian's head and now enjoys scenic walks through the lush Oregon greenness. Back to boots, now I have to buy a pair as I am going line dancing at Oil Can Harrys and would look pretty dumb in Jessica Simpson 4" platformed YSL knockoffs in the midst of all the amazing gay cowboy well-heeled gorgeousness around me.3. BULL RIDING
This sport pairs cowboys in cowboy boots with monstrous, sinewy bulls. In the cage they nervously sit upon the beast (who is always named something rad like Fender Bender, Major Payne, or Beaver Cleaver), nervously trying to tie an infallible knot around his roped hand. My friend told me cowboys often lose their thumbs in rodeo accidents, so it's fun to try to see if the cowboy has both thumbs. Rewind on DVR to settle disputes amongst your friends. I don't get what the spitting is...maybe spitting on the bull is good luck? Then there's the ding-ding and the cage opens and commencer le bucking (it kind of secretly looks like fun, albeit a bit painful). This is followed by the dismount, the most exciting part. The cowboy crashes in the reddish ranch dirt and then scrambles around trying to avoid the onslaught of angry hooves. It's edge of your seat suspense as to the extent of injuries that will follow. It's also fun to watch grown men scramble up fences to avoid being impaled. The bull always seems to know when to exit for some reason and subduedly trots out of the gate. The cowboy limps away clutching at his body parts, sometimes crying to reveal several missing teeth as he swats away the cameras. Better than football. Better than baseball. Better than soccer. As good as a Laker game in which Lamar Odom gets flagrant. Innnndeed.
4. COUNTRY MUSIC
I long for a place where I can listen to country music and not be judged by others. I like Lonestar. I really like Rascal Flats. Sometimes I cry. In Texas, this is not only accepted, it's rejoiced. Misery is put to music, it's therapeutic. I know all the words to She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy, but I sadly learned recently that liking this song is not accepted in Texas, either.5. BIG OL' JUGS OF SWEET TEA
6. BIG HAIR
I need Texan girl friends to teach me the secrets to Texas Hair. I bought the highly acclaimed "Bump It" (yes, as seen on screen beh-beh) but I want to know how to achieve this intense volume sans creepy plastic insert. I live in constant fear someone will pet my head only to discover my trickery.6. TEXAN LAW
In Texas, criminals are required by law to give their victims 24 hour's notice, orally or in writing, explaining the nature of the crime to be committed. Living on the streets in LA has really made me aware of the constant lawlessness and danger that surrounds me at all times.Having 24 hour's advance notice would give me ample time to locate the knife my douchebag marine ex gave me, a smaller version of the one he always carried in his sock. The gift was inspired by the tale of a date I went on once with an Australian whose claim to fame was his face being plastered on a Jdate billboard in Times Square sometime in 2007. I, ever mindful of my safety, selected a deserted Santa Monica beach at nighttime as the location of our first date, with corner store liquor market 40s swathed in paper bags to be served. I paid for his. We crawled up to a lifeguard tower to sit and listen to the waves. A flash of metal caught the corner of my eye as my date removed a large switchblade knife from his sock. Fortunately, it was to open his beer rather than stab my heart. Unfortunately, the date did not get better. After his 40, my date was too drunk to drive and we proceeded to walk 8 blocks to find him pizza. This sad tale from my past resulted in me being gifted a large knife. Ahhhhhh what a sense of humor, too bad he forgot to tell me he was married.
Another useful law for me: after introducing somebody publicly as your husband or wife a mere three times, you may have a union recognized by law. As I near the age where women begin to panic, I find comfort that in a worst case scenario, I can get myself a husband with $40.00 worth of shots and three witnesses.
I could clearly go on, but it's time for me to get my cowboy boots. Bye now!
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