29 09 2009

I skipped my twice-weekly excursion into the ghetto to get a real job. Hopefully this will work. Seriously, why the hell do they require you to have a valid address to sell blood? It’s blood for Christ’s sake! I mean, they already test it for the hiv, and they already know about my gonorrhea… (funny, if you misspell gonorrhea, spell check’s second suggestion is northeast…damn Canucks). But why do I need an actual address? What if I’m homeless? I already can’t get a job without an address, or an address without a job for that matter, so why can’t I at least stoop to selling all I have, my body to whoever can use it? It’s bullshit!

Thank god I do have an address though, because it has allowed me to apply for jobs. I’m getting sick and tired of job hunting, so I’m getting serious. After spending some good time reworking my resume, after Corey ripped it a new one for sure, and dressed all perdy in khakis, a button-up, and black shoes, I was ready to turn my applications from Bayshore in. Barnes & Noble, Journey’s, Pacsun, Cheesecake Factory, H&M, American Eagle, Bravo!, Williams-Sonoma, and Kohl’s. All of them now know the secrets to my soul and can affect the outcome of my life. Oh god. I hope they all call. They want me. I know it. – Nic