August 13, 2008

i had a session with a guitar player

Why hasn't anybody told me that skinny tapered jeans make me look really short and stumpy? The opposite of skinny and/or tapered? Why! You are all silent accomplices to this disservice to my stature and grace.

That said, on a 50% off tip, I took B jeans shopping after our respective works and indulged in a pair of old school bootlegs. Good old universally flattering bootleg regular cut jeans. I'm also now a fan of "boyfriend" cut jeans. Girl pants styled from boy pants. See- they make boy jeans FOR girls, but guys just have to buy girl jeans if they want to look like they are wearing girl jeans (ie. really lean and snug hipster fodder). I feel taken care of by the consumerist nation. I feel that I am being catered to with all of these options. I feel my wallet getting lighter and lighter. Guh. This is a problem.

At work I was allowed to supply the playlist for the rooftop dining area and filled it with tons of Beirut, Gotan Project, Dodos, Rosebuds, and Bowie. Amongst many other dancey, epic jams. It was a hit among the wait staff. I'm in!
Now all I have to do is charm the pants off of the foreign grumpy gay manager and it's gravy. And know things when the other manager ambushes me with menu questions. And then gravy.
Most everyone there are struggling actors. Ugh. My dream of a cliche 20-something era is being encroached upon.

Afterwards, in which I successfully worked my own section, I met up with B at her apt and we drank wine until we were too tired for words and fell asleep.

Except that instead of falling asleep, I'm pretty sure I just laid in bed with my eyes closed in the dark for 7 hours and then eventually got up when it became time for me to go to my internship.
SO FUCKING TIRED. I can't even remember what I was thinking of, but I know for a fact that I literally did not catch one wink, not one single Z. The last time that happened to me I was having an anxiety attack in bed the summer I was 16 and about to go on vacation with my mom in the morning. And even then I eventually panicked myself into a state where I was too tuckered out to panic anymore and eventually passed out.

Last night, for 7 hours or so my brain sounded like this:

And I went to my internship a zombie and was told not to be on gmail chat twice because I am being distracted and apparently the other intern doesn't go use any IM services to reach the outside world and sorted twice as many emails as I did in half the time with the internet connection lagging. Clearly gmail chat is to blame. Not the fact that this is THE MOST MIND-NUMBINGLY DULLEST EXCUSE FOR "WORK" EVER.
Doesn't he realize that he gets what he pays for? Which is NOTHING. I am quitting.

ps. Lolita specs: Yay or nay?

I'm torn between believing they are endearingly adorable... or idiot skank lenses.

Summer Print lab privileges go 86 this Saturday. Urrrggg nooooooooo

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