I like pooping

Well, okay. So, here I am at 4am, up with the laptop and HBO. “Punchline” is on, and again, it's another movie about one's career shaping one's existance. What do you do if you don't have an active career? I think that I was okay with all of it as long as I had cash flowing in and out, but all of a sudden there's no more give. I've stretched the cash as far as it will go, and now I'm gonna start selling plasma.

It helps, I think, that I didn't take up my father's awful habits like drinking and drugs. You can keep a few hundred bucks going a lot farther if you aren't snorting it up your nose.

I was almost working at the plasma place. I made it through two behavioral interviews, which were not quite as grueling as was promised to me by the friend who referred me. If you ever get the chance to be- uh- behaviorally interviewed - I highly recommend it. It's… fun.

So, after making it through two interviews and being promised a third (with the regional director), I suffered through insomnia until 7am. My vibrating alarm clock shook me into awakening and I jumped into the shower. The phone rang, and my friend informed me that I would not be interviewing with the regional director on that day.

I was offered the opportunity to interview for other, lesser positions, and I almost jumped into the fry vat with both feet. Ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to make the commitment. Who can promise two years of their life in the salt mines when salvation could be just around the corner?

My roommate said that he wouldn't be able to blog because he would spend hours worrying over every word. I've spent an hour on this. Sonofa.

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