Unsurpsingly, I am not being hired as a journalist. Since I have no training as a journalist I am not especially disappointed. They did send me an email that mentioned how much they enjoyed reading my writing samples, though, right before mentioning how unqualified I am. I’m comfortable with that outcome. My writing samples were fucking awesome.

Now I’m after a job at a battered women’s shelter. I also have no training as a social worker.

Do you know anyone who needs a hand identifying literary allusion? I’m highly trained in that field. And I’m cheap to hire.

Lately all I can think about is vacationing and David Sedaris. You know what I realized? David Sedaris’ twenties were way shittier, professionally speaking, than mine. And he’s on NPR all the time. Sometimes when I’m driving I practice being interviewed, just in case.

I was reading Naked the other day and realized that the nudist colony he visits is way cheaper than any vacation destinations I’ve been considering. I need a fucking vacation, one way or another.

Last night I went to a church council meeting. I hate meetings and believe they should be conducted via google documents. All meeting notes could be submitted and then edited for length. Then everyone could collaborate online. Also, I could wear pajamas. Or what passes for pajamas in my world. Wink, wink.

People prattle on much too much, and I begin to lose my temper at meetings. My mom, who also went to last night’s meeting, packed me a little lunch to eat because I was coming from a nice long (terrible) tutoring gig. Being hungry while my time is wasted makes me more prone to hulking out. I was supposed to be acting as proxy for my friend the Old Man who’s Into Youth Ministry and New Electronics. My plan was to read his proposal into the record and get the hell out. He was there, though, and thought his proposal was a joint one. It was awkward. If I were going to go around making proposals, I can think of several I’d make before his. His proposal was great, but it wasn’t mine. There was discussion. There were questions. Many of which were directed at me. It felt disingenuous, and the whole exercise took nearly an hour.

Then I went home and played with “my” dog for an hour, took a bath, and played with my cat for another hour. Today I put a note on the church’s Facebook page asking if anyone could help find the dog a home. So far my efforts in this regard have been unsuccessful. I am not, theologically speaking, above seeing this as proof that God wants me to have a dog.

A song about a hotel to express my enthusiasm for vacationing. I really need a break from this job and everything else.

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