![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Small update
Aug. 23rd, 2005 12:29 amSo much to say, so little to care about.
Interview tomorrow for a lil' job at a lil' kitschy boutique, one of the numerous ones that line the streets of Manhattan. I submitted my resume for the position a month and a half ago, and was surprised as all hell to get a call back. So surprised, in fact, that all the clothing I have that screams "hire me now, bitches" is AWOL. Okay, I lie - I have no clothes. Also, my clothes don't say a damn word. At this point I'm just...I want to walk in there with my jeans, army shirt, and my boots (breakin' those jammies out in anticipation of the fall). I don't have cutesy clothing, and I don't have any dress pants. Nor do I have a good blouse. Damn. I need clothing. Jeans and tees don't really cut it in the business world.
Folks are down in Florida. It's just me and two bros here. Me likey. Me not likey being pushed into the role of sole cook, however. They made do with hamburgers today, because I damn well wasn't going to truss the chicken I pulled out of the freezer. Moochers.
I'm totally doing that story, peoples. I'm staring at the word list. All's that left is, uhm, creation. Yeah.
Fin.
ETA
1. E-Harmony.com needs to bite me. The ads always play full-length after midnight, most likely targeting the sad weeping singles who find themselves parked in front of the boob tube in their cat-filled apartments. As one who will join their ranks in a hand-full of years (that is, if I ever fully "fly the coop") I preemptively ask E-Harmony and its ilk to frack off.
2. Misspellings and lack of capitalizations turn me off; does that make me an elitist stuck-up bastard? I mean, Jesus wept, spell check is there for a reason!
Lovely. I am a bastard, but now I'm an elitist stuck-up one. It's like Christmas and Kwanzaa and Hanukkah rolled into one bitter ball.
Interview tomorrow for a lil' job at a lil' kitschy boutique, one of the numerous ones that line the streets of Manhattan. I submitted my resume for the position a month and a half ago, and was surprised as all hell to get a call back. So surprised, in fact, that all the clothing I have that screams "hire me now, bitches" is AWOL. Okay, I lie - I have no clothes. Also, my clothes don't say a damn word. At this point I'm just...I want to walk in there with my jeans, army shirt, and my boots (breakin' those jammies out in anticipation of the fall). I don't have cutesy clothing, and I don't have any dress pants. Nor do I have a good blouse. Damn. I need clothing. Jeans and tees don't really cut it in the business world.
Folks are down in Florida. It's just me and two bros here. Me likey. Me not likey being pushed into the role of sole cook, however. They made do with hamburgers today, because I damn well wasn't going to truss the chicken I pulled out of the freezer. Moochers.
I'm totally doing that story, peoples. I'm staring at the word list. All's that left is, uhm, creation. Yeah.
Fin.
ETA
1. E-Harmony.com needs to bite me. The ads always play full-length after midnight, most likely targeting the sad weeping singles who find themselves parked in front of the boob tube in their cat-filled apartments. As one who will join their ranks in a hand-full of years (that is, if I ever fully "fly the coop") I preemptively ask E-Harmony and its ilk to frack off.
2. Misspellings and lack of capitalizations turn me off; does that make me an elitist stuck-up bastard? I mean, Jesus wept, spell check is there for a reason!
Lovely. I am a bastard, but now I'm an elitist stuck-up one. It's like Christmas and Kwanzaa and Hanukkah rolled into one bitter ball.
