.... who lives with a sixty and thirty year old man. Grounds for epic tale to be told? Would it be wrong to glamorize such a life? Not that I'd want to encourage folks to quit their jobs - hell, when I walked in to visit a friend at work a few days ago:
"Four and a half more hours of this," he says to me.
"I'd work it for you if I could!" I blurt back.
Dessssperado.
I'm such a house mouse now, so silent. Every footstep and crickety crack reverberates so easily - while I got to roam free in Williams Street, I am extremely self conscious of every action I make here. J'detest being extremely self conscious. Seriously, to all you 'Eff it I'm going to say and do what I want!' people, I partially envy you. (50% envy, 25% can't stand, 25% try to understand.)
A large portion of time is spent SCOURING the vast information superhighway for even a SPECK of work - in my skivvies? well, and a top. a top, and skivvies. In a way, I kind of feel like Carrie from Sex and the City right now. but not as prolific, nor stimulating. So yes I just admitted to currently being in skivvies looking for jobs.
My stubborn butt refuses to collect unemployment or food stamps. People are really getting on said gluteus maximus' case to apply for those. Although honestly I think one of them was being so persistent about it (at a bar) because he wanted to 'help' me aka touch my butt. No thank you...
2 comments:
You need help.
So delusional.
Hahaahaha. Whaaaatever dude.
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