7 Job Interview Tips Everyone Should Know

Hi all. Considering the tremendous success of ‘Dating Advice’ (in which we covered everything from man-eating crocodiles to glossolalia) and similar helpful posts, I’ve decided to further the spirit of helpfulness with these gems of counsel. Here are some tips to help get you started in your professional life. Enjoy!

 

1. Avoid controversial topics of conversation. This includes but is not limited to politics, religion, art, education, philosophy, trampolines, orange groves, the ‘bumblebee situation,’ earth tremors, the void of meaning that is existence, the void of meaning that is instagram, underwater photography, sex, sex photography, underwater sex (or the photography thereof), and geese. If your potential employer steers you towards one of these topics of discussion, your best course of action is to nod and say “Yes, I think what you think,” unless the topic is trampolines in which case you should run. Fast, and far.
2. Submit to mandatory blood sampling. This is a necessary and relatively painless part of the interview process. It is important for companies to collect the blood of their employees in order to check for diseases/blood wizards. Wizards of the blood are small, wily, and can cause problems down the line for high-end businesses.
3. Be presentable. Taking pride in your appearance indicates that you are also likely to take pride in your work. So wear a fancy hat or, if the mood so takes you, an elaborate codpiece indicative of your manhood. For women, adorn yourself in an elaborate feather headdress. You will look fabulous, a word which comes from the Latin meaning ‘strange bird creature.’
4. Consider what kind of job you are applying for. For an office job, you may find that certain paraphernalia of professionalism can help, such as a briefcase or an expensive pen that can ‘accidentally’ fall out of you pocket or handbag. However, other careers may require crossbows,   night-vision goggles or elaborate scrapbooks detailing the eating habits of the Danish royal family. Take this into account- after all, you never know when a description of Queen Margrethe II’s breakfast will come in handy.
5. It is important to set yourself apart from the other candidates, who for all you know are more attractive and physically strong than you. You may wish to point out to the interviewer that you are NOT an arsonist, but that you aren’t sure about the others in the waiting room. You don’t know them. You also know that you are not an embezzler, a Taiwanese assassin, or two little people in a long coat, one standing on the other’s shoulders.
6. Be advised that your laptop or home computer may legally be seized to check for illicit activity. You may wish to delete your search history. If an employer were to check my search history they would only find innocuous phrases such as ‘blood wizards+weaknesses,’ ‘everything spiders why,’ and ‘Kardashian family blood type.’ This is because I have long since deleted any compromising evidence, so that employers need never know about the long hours spent googling ‘harpoon misfire, nobody can know, what do, also scorpions.’
7. Bring ALL the necessary paperwork. Companies may reasonably expect to see your high school or university certificate of graduation, your driver’s license, your birth certificate, medical records, family history, x-rays to prove that you don’t have a scary skeleton living inside of you, a certificate of approval by our Lizard overlords, and a statement that you are sound of mind and soul signed in triplicate by your spirit animal. A certified list of all the owls you have seen in your life is optional.

Dating Advice from Chaotica

 

Due to my wealth of experience in giving overly-specific/suspect advice demonstrated here and here, I have decided to aid the more socially inept readers of this blog with the dos and donts of dating. These are some of the romance-related questions that have floated my way via message-in-a-bottle to my sea-cave lair in South America, followed by some general tips.

1.       Chaotica, the crocodiles have developed a taste for human flesh, what do we do?

This is a highly nuanced question, pertaining to varying levels of affection you might have for your date and the social acceptability of feeding him/her to living dinosaurs in order to facilitate your escape, with regard to how much time you’ve spent together. I think this question can be best answered with the following key:

We’ve been on 1-4 dates = nobody would judge you for ditching your date (i.e. leaving them to the crocodiles) if your life depends on it.

We’ve been on 5-15 dates = you probably like this person enough to justify trying to get him/her out alive at the possible expense of your own life at this stage in your relationship. But he/she may not see it this way, and your wisest option would be to throw them to the man-eating crocodiles before he/she throws you.

We’ve been on 16+ dates = Wow. You guys have something really special. He/she is likely willing to sacrifice themselves for you, and if not then they don’t deserve your attentions. Throw ‘em to the crocs.

2.       Chaotica, my date is speaking in tongues and is feared possessed by Satan. What should I do?

Language barriers are always a hindrance on a date. Just try to have fun and communicate mostly through gesture and/or interpretive dance.

3.       I’ve kidnapped Detective Candy’s family but she still seems unresponsive to my sexual advances. How do I let her know how I feel?

Jenkins, how did you get the address of my sea cave?

4.       What is a good place to go on a date?

To impress your intended, journey to the place between places. Or Paris. Paris is nice.

5.       The Dark Ones have been released. Please advise.

This seems like less of a dating problem and more of a global spiritual catastrophe, though I can see how it might impact your romantic prospects. Maybe consult Jenkins?

6.       How do I contact Jenkins?

Whisper “you thought nobody saw, but you were wrong” to any flightless bird and Jenkins will be in touch.

7.       How do you tell someone you’re not interested in them?

You will need a few things to pull this off, most importantly a fake passport and two safe-houses, in separate continents. Detective Candy if this is you, get new safe-houses because Jenkins has memorised yours. Go to your first safe-house and mail a polite but clear “no thanks” letter to a friend you won’t particularly miss, and tell the friend forward it to your would-be suitor. This ensures that he/she will attack your friend instead of you when they track the letter to its mailer. Lay low for a few years, and if possible try to have him/her assassinated to make absolutely sure that they won’t retaliate. If this is not feasible, start a new life as a cheese-maker in a modest and quaint European hamlet. Marry, have children, grow old. Never look back.

But then, this is just my experience.

8.       How do you tell if a date is going well?

This is a highly subjective matter. The best way to empirically determine the calibre of the date is through double-blind, controlled experiments wherein the date is not sponsored by any corporation with a hidden agenda. Ensure that you account for hidden variables such as age of participants and quality of breadsticks.

9.       I think my date is being tailed by a sinister man in a hat.

Third parties can be awkward on a date. If the problem persists, tell your intended that their sinister man is not welcome and should be politely abandoned. If the man in the hat continues to tail you as you drive away in a taxi, follow these instructions-

If the man is following in a black car: shake him off by doubling back.

Blue car: keep your eyes on the road ahead, pretend you do not see the sinister man.

Red car: call the police.

Dirty yellow car with bullet holes: pick up your mobile immediately and SMS ‘Call off the hound’ to 1800 WITCHHUNT. There may be hidden charges, amounting to 1/800^th of your soul, or the monetary equivalent which is 60c.

Purple car: start a new life as a cheese-maker in a modest and quaint European hamlet. Marry, have children, grow old. Never look back.

10.   Chaotica, stop telling strangers how to contact me. Also, The Dark Ones. That’s a thing we should probably deal with, right?

Yeah, man, but I thought YOU would know how to deal with them, that’s why I told that guy how to send a message to your dojo. How’s things with Candy by the way, my broseph?

11.   Things are not going well with Detective Candy.

I told you not to kidnap her family. Lemme know if you get any leads on The Dark Ones.

12.   It’s going well, we’ve been on a few dates, but I am increasingly of the opinion that my date may be a three-eyed bridge troll bent on devouring my flesh.

It’s cool man, as long as its two consenting adults. I’m not here to judge.

Equal rights for three-eyed trolls.

 

13.   Oh God, Oh God where…? Hello? Hello? I think I’m trapped in a dungeon! I’m strapped to something I… I can’t see what it is. Send help. SEND HELP!

Are you the guy from question nine? Question twelve maybe? Either way you’ve probably been eaten/ made into one of them by now.

14.   Chaotica this is Jenkins again, The Dark Ones are among us. They’ve replaced the most powerful people in the world and they’re looking for me. Oh God, THEY’RE LOOKING FOR ME!

Calm down and go to one of Candy’s safe-houses. The Peru one has a hot-tub and it’s not too far from my sea-cave.

15.   Chaotica this is Detective Candy. Jenkins is here and he’s freaking out, he says you sent him. How could you? You know I’m hiding from him!

Dammit Candy! I told you to get new safe-houses. Anyway this practically doesn’t even concern you, just tell him to stay away from the windows and forget about him. He has bigger problems than plotting against you.

16.   Chaotica I went to Peru like you said but Candy’s here and she’s freaking out.

Alright. Act cool. Maybe put on a movie, light some candles, try putting your arm around her and see how she responds. See if you can entice her with a dip in the hot-tub.

17.   Dammit Chaotica I’m not looking for dating advice, I need to calm Candy down before her panic attracts the psychic vultures, alerting The Dark Ones to our presence.

Yeesh, sorry.

18.   My date won’t stop talking about himself. What would you do?

Tell him everything is spiders and calmly take a sip from your drink, maintaining eye contact for an uncomfortably long time. That usually shuts them up.

19.   My date won’t stop talking about incurable diseases of the liver. What would you do?

 Tell them your sister died of liver cancer. Then laugh and tell them you’re just kidding, she actually died of the spiders.

20.   My date won’t stop talking about spiders. What should I do?

People read my blog?

21.   They’re here.

Who?

22.   The Dark Ones. Listen if I don’t see you again, tell my mother THE DARK ONES CANNOT BE DEFEATED. THEY ARE ALL. THEY ARE ALL.

Ok, where does she live?

 

GENERAL DATING TIPS:

1. A moonlit stroll on the beach in Summer is romantic, in Winter it’s an attempt to get you away from witnesses.
2. Don’t let the voices tell you you’re not good enough for him/her.
3. Don’t let the voices fall for him/her.
4. If one of the voices runs away with him/her, don’t let it get you down. Just think of it as one less consciousness constantly telling you to burn people.
5. Don’t become involved with more than eleven people at once.
6. Don’t become involved with more than six werewolves at once.
7. Don’t become involved with clowns.
8. If your date is secretly a clown, start a new life as a cheese-maker in a modest and quaint European hamlet. Marry, have children, grow old. Never look back.

Chaotica Tries Astrology or whatever

Horoscopes

The Zodiac is bullshit, but if any of these predictions come true for you feel free to give me the credit.

Aries:

Today’s the day! The day you finally find out what that complicated-looking machine in your basement does. Be sure to wear protective clothing. If tomorrow you think you see Alan Rickman, it’s probably not really him.

Taurus:

Congratulations on being born in the second house of the Zodiac. It’s the best house, the party house. Every day is like one big shindig. Be warned: just because it’s a metaphorical shindig does not mean you should neglect to metaphorically leave out some chips and dip, or things could metaphorically get ugly.

Gemini:

You will write a bullshit horoscope on your blog, and like every other one of your posts this one will be thinly veiled self-flattery. You’re the best! You know this because the stars which somehow control everyone’s life have foretold it.

Cancer:

Duck.

Leo:

Pack a bag, walk out the door, and keep going south until you reach the gate between worlds. Give the gatekeeper a single piece of gold and he will take you to the world beyond this one. Seek out Methuselah, and tell him ‘the crow flies through the dark night.’ He will give you a map. Follow it to the Limestone Caves of Wröght, and await further instructions.

Virgo:

You really shouldn’t read your horoscope while you’re driving.

Libra:

That’s a nice home you’ve got. It would be a shame if something were to happen to it.

Scorpio:

Your life is slowly losing meaning. You weren’t sure at first, but at this point in your life it has become clear that every one of your actions is just a way to entertain yourself until you inevitably embrace the sweet release of the void. That’s great and all, but you’re seriously bringing the rest of us down, so just smile and keep the darkness bottled up on the inside. Seriously, you’re depressing Virgo.

Sagittarius:

Drop whatever the hell stupid thing you were going to do today, I need you to pick me up from the hospital. I uh… I can’t tell you what happened.

Capricorn:

You should get that growth on your arm checked out. Don’t worry about it too much though, the ringing in your ears and your vision darkening means it’s healing.

Aquarius:

You thought you could get away with it, didn’t you? Did you think I wouldn’t notice that someone had been in the secret room behind the bookcase? Well the next time you need someone to call off the Royal Guard, don’t come crying to me!

Pisces:

You skipped to the end so that you would only have to read your own horoscope. Now that’s what I call pulling a Mike Burges! (Ha, now you have to read the whole thing to find out what that’s a reference to).

Top Secret Information For Diddly

I won’t lie to you; I’m a little annoyed at myself at the moment. I started this blog to exercise my talent for fiction, but instead all I ever use it for is recounting absolutely true stories about my life, and conveying top secret information to various associations, sects, organisations and individuals with which I am affiliated. This post is really the latter.

So here is a message to a man I’m not allowed to name, for reasons which are many and varied. For now, I’m going to call him Mr Diddly. Diddly Squat. Because he knows diddly squat about anything.This- and I cannot stress this quite enough- is TOP SECRET. So if you aren’t Mr Squat, please stop reading. Right now I am starting to regret even INCLUDING  the words “top secret information” in the title, because of course now you’re going to keep reading. If you’re thinking of asking me why I don’t just change the title, it’s because I don’t do things that way. And if you’re thinking of asking me why I don’t just convey this message using a more secure means of communication, it’s because I don’t do things that way, and also because I’m chained to a water pipe in Google headquarters (again) and only have access to a computer.

Diddly, you are obviously aware that a few months ago I broke my vow against popular culture conventions and went to the Sydney Supanova Convention just so that I could relay a coded message to you. Remember?

 

First of all, no matter what you may think, Harley Quinn is the best, you don’t even know. And I look hot as the spurs on the devil’s cowboy boots in that outfit, so you can shut your mouth.

Second of all, and more importantly, you may remember me telling you earlier this year that the code had changed. Among other things, the code “Harley Quinn” no longer means “infiltrate the Vatican,” but instead means “look behind you.” If you had known this, the left side of your face might not have that ghastly scar. Meanwhile, I’ve been taking many angry calls from our allies in Rome, and have had to hang up because I don’t speak Italian.

Mr Squat, your antics, which I once used to tolerate, are endangering our delicate operation. Seriously, is there some reason why you fail to grasp basic concepts, like not locking yourself inside your house when your house isn’t even deadlocked. I have known you to forget that humans are the dominant race and follow your cat everywhere trying to get it to drive you to the vet. It was highly amusing when I found out that the reason you were acting strange around me was because you thought the first few times we met were in a dream, and that I had somehow escaped from your head. For these reasons I have convinced the committee not to have you killed.

However, when I get angry calls from the Vatican, find shoes glued to the roof or my office, or tell a Barber Shop Quartet that there’s been some mistake and we won’t be requiring their services, and the only explanation that our coworkers can give me is “Diddly Squat,” my patience begins to wear. And that is why if you fail this mission, you will find yourself stuck in a room which can only be opened by pulling on the door, and yet the sign says “push.” Hopefully you’ll suffocate or something.

Anyway, your mission is this: send a messenger vulture to the Matriarch and tell her to send a handsaw and a loaded gun to Google Headquarters’ boiler room. And if I receive a kitten and a water pistol instead like last time, your stupid, scarred face will be fired like the ugly clay vase of a pretentious art student, Squat.

Oh, and if you fail, remember that the code “Captain Marvel” means “you’re fired” now, not “congratulations on a beautiful baby girl.”

-Chaotica.

 

How to Defend Yourself Against Matthew Husseys

It has come to my attention that we ladies are facing a new threat. As if periods, the pain of childbirth, and constantly being locked in dragon-guarded castles until a stupid knight shows up is not bad enough, we are now being plagued by an entirely new species: Matt Husseys.

Now don’t be fooled: generally Husseys look like ordinary men. Here:

 

I couldn’t find a close-up, but he has the cold, dead eyes of a lunatic crossed with a panther.

Their natural habitats include bars and clubs, and they want one and only one thing: poontang. This new species was brought to my attention today at a friend’s birthday party, and we ended up watching his videos.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_qn49oASfnM&feature=relmfu

It ended up being a great bonding experience: there’s nothing quite like getting furious at something together. After watching the videos I realised I had myself once been prey to a Hussey. At the time all I could think was: ”who the hell does this guy think he is, touching my ass?”Little did I know that I had, in fact, encountered my first Matt Hussey (or to use the Latin, Cranio-Phallicus Maximus). That is why I have created this helpful guide for recognising and dealing with Hussey strategy, which is known among Hussey herds as “stealth attraction.”

Stealth Attraction Technique no. 1: The Impromptu Sex Dungeon

The technique: The Hussey will lure you over to a nearby wall, anything he can lean against, really. Once there he will distract you with shallow compliments and his damnably attractive English accent so that it is too late for you to escape. He has trapped you by wrapping one of his legs around yours and will not let go. It does not matter to the Hussey that there are people watching.

The counter-attack: Now, most women go for the simple (if messy) “cut off his head with your katana” method, not realising of course, that they are in fact dealing with an entirely new species. Like the praying mantis, the Hussey does not require a head to continue with his sexual endeavours: he thinks primarily with his penis. Eventually removal of the head will kill him, but upon removal the rest of the body seizes up, leaving you trapped. Instead, try to take advantage of the fact that he is standing on one leg. You can feign interest by holding his sides, then fall over and don’t let go, taking him with you. The shock is enough for you to escape, meanwhile the Hussey (which cannot get up once he is on his back), rolls around on the floor with his legs and arms waving in the air like an upside-down cockroach.

Stealth Attraction Technique no. 2: The Double-Twist Skirt-Lifting Manoeuvre With Extra Sleaze

The technique: The Hussey will place his hands around your waist and without you realising, lift your skirt or dress by a couple of inches. It’s not really known what this manoeuvre is intended to accomplish: maybe he wants you to think that he’s already begun the process of disrobing you, so that time can therefore be saved on it later? I don’t know.

The counter-attack: Now there is a simple method for everyday use and a more complicated one for when you are at a party in your own home and wish to guard against gatecrashing Matt Husseys. The simple one is this: wear layers. Husseys get frustrated and confused if they pull up a dress only to find there is a petticoat immediately under it, and that no extra skin has been revealed. Watch and laugh as their human-esque brows furrow in bewilderment. They will soon give up and leave you alone. Now the fun method: it only works in your own home because it requires much preparation and interaction with your environment. You need to construct an intricate network of strings attached to your dress. When the dress is pulled up, these invisible wires will activate a series of booby traps to which Husseys are highly sensitive, but which will not disturb the other guests. Green lights, high-pitched noises and weasel scented perfume will chase away any and all Husseys invading your private property.

Stealth Attraction Technique No. 3: The Ancient Pinned-Butterfly Technique.

The technique: with this the Hussey will attempt to pin your hands up above your head so that you remain defenceless as he has his wicked way with you.

The counter-attack: The Hussey, as you may have realised, is not a creature of intelligence. If you want to be practical you can easily kick him in the groin, but this guide is about fun, not practicality! Tell the Hussy you want to dance: he will oblige you, thinking this is a good sign. Once on the dance floor, wait until you’re dancing near enough to a man with a drink, and trip the Hussey up. With the drink most likely spilt, the man will place blame on the Hussey. Threatened with the possibility of a sound thrashing by a drunken partygoer, the Hussey will retreat. Plus, who knows? Said drunkard might be an alright guy, wink wink, nudge nudge ;).

Stealth Attraction Technique no. 4: The Fly-Guy

The technique: Some Hussey’s may attempt to place pressure on your shoulder or hip so that you focus your attention on the threatened areas while he silently unzips your fly. In his mind, you are probably thinking: “Here is a guy who can undo a zipper. Here is a guy worthy to father my offspring.” But then, little is known about the inner-workings of the Matt Hussey.

The counter-attack: My friend whose birthday it was suggested that attaching a fake penis to your womanhood before hitting the town is a decent countermeasure. But I would go one step further than that and suggest that you always hide a weasel in your panties. Remember, the weasel is the natural enemy of the Hussey, which is ironic because that’s really what Husseys are: weasels. Keep your weasel well-fed and you can also get a pet plus an irreplaceable defence mechanism in one cute, furry package. Your weasel is a friend for life!

Enjoy your Hussey-baiting while such a thing is still legal, and remember to be creative and have fun with it.

Yours truly,

Chaotica.

My Day Spent Stalking Andrew Hussie

In the interests of the renowned creator of MS Paint Adventures’ privacy, I won’t reveal where I was on that fateful day when our paths did cross. But if you follow the clues, you can more or less figure it out from the geographical features and other little hints. This was the day that I, Chaotica the Butterfly, spent following around Andrew Hussie himself.

It was a hot day in the city of (censored) and I paused on my journey to the city’s famous roller-skating rink/ library of records (the only one in the world) to have a cool drink inside a café. Through the window facing East I could see the waves crashing onto the pebbled shore and the palm trees rock in the breeze. I could already tell that this would be a day of mysticism and intrigue (mostly because all week had been that way).

I ordered an iced-chocolate with whipped cream and passed over the money to the woman behind the bench. The look on her face as I handed her a hundred-dollar bill could have been described as one of mild annoyance, but more accurately described as one of ill-disguised fury. In the long run I don’t think she minded much, since I didn’t stop to collect the change. For it was at that point that I looked out of the front window and saw Hussie.

There are a few things you should know about Andrew Hussie. Number one, he is part gazelle, so I had to be very careful that he did not notice me as I followed him. Number two, he has been known to vanish off the face of the Earth for days at a time if he feels threatened; the only evidence for his existence being his rapid yet irregular updates to the webcomic Homestuck. Naturally I would have to be very careful.

I left the café and a blast of cold air hit my face. This was especially surprising since a few paragraphs ago I said it was a very hot day. Authorial inconsistency notwithstanding I kept on down that dark, wintry road as I clutched at my heavy coat and sipped my hot chocolate. I could see that Hussie had not yet noticed me. He was making his way to the city center, no doubt in search of transportation into the mountains to the East, where I understand every internet comedian must make a pilgrimage once in their lives. Mine would come years later, but today was Hussie’s turn. Or so I thought.

Instead of turning right into the financial district for a rickshaw up the mountains, Hussie went straight on, on to the pet store that received so much media attention the following year after the escape of several marmosets and a fruit bat. I watched him as he went in and purchased an exotic bird, presumably for his stamp collection. When he exited the soon-to-be infamous postal office, Hussie pocketed the stamp and put on his sunglasses. I did the same, as the sun now burned with a new intensity. I was glad I dressed for warm weather that day.

I followed him down an empty street and almost lost him in the crowd. He paused and looked into the window of a book store that sold nothing but second-hand CDs. Andrew went inside and I decided to follow him, but ultimately I would have done anything to escape the blizzard, if only for a few moments. He went to the pop-rock aisle and I went to the adjoining English Literature section so that I could peer at him through the shelves. He was approached by a short, bearded man with a slight limp. Hussie acknowledged the woman as he continued to take out the David Bowie CDs from their cases and replace them with Homestuck albums.

“I hear the contraband is on the lily pad,” said the woman, flicking her hair back.

“Then the trolls must be at rest,” Hussie answered.

“Do you have the item?” she asked.

“Verily.”

He handed her the stamp he had bought at the pet shop and she gave him a coil of copper wiring in return. Hussie stared at it for a long time.

“Thankyou Bill. This act of kindness shall not soon be forgotten,” he said. I thought I saw a tear streak down Hussie’s face, but it could have been Bill’s.

The rest of the night continued in such a manner, with Hussie giving and receiving various gifts. At an all night disco he gave the wire to a woman in a sandwich bar, who then gave him a small puppy. The puppy was delivered to a waiter at a Laundromat, and Andrew received a small key the size of a jackhammer for his trouble. I watched as he used a pulley system to send the key up to the twelfth story of a bungalow, and a note was dropped down to him in return. By this time the sun was high in the sky and the stars were starting to come out.

Finally I saw him go inside of a small room off a side-alley. I looked through the crack in the door and watched him put the note on the table and take off his makeup to reveal the shining metal surface of his skin.

Wait a minute, I thought. People aren’t made of metal.

That’s right, dear readers. I had fallen for the trap that so many other Homestuck fans had been prey to. All day I had merely been following the infamous Hussiebot.

Damn you, Hussiebot!

As I left the swamp and returned to civilisation I reflected that if I had stopped stalking him before we reached the side alley this would have been a much better story. But I suppose that’s what you get with Hussie. The ending may not be the one you wished for, but through his surprise twists and endless trolling of the fans you get something much more…

You know what? Screw you Andrew Hussie.