Just Some Idiot Twenty-Something Chick

There's this tanning salon across the street with a now hiring sign on the door. I applied, and even went across town to speak with the manager, and yet, nothing. No calls.  She even said something along the lines of "I'll review your application and call you if I need to." Cool, not when you see it. Just whatever. Not like you're hiring or anything.

The fitness center across the street took my application, jerked me around for two weeks, with this "the manager just left" and "sorry, come back later" bullshit, only to find out that they don't have but two shifts available, and to "come back this summer when the college students are gone."

Subway isn't even hiring here, and the frozen yogurt place I applied at hasn't called back.

I'm trying to stay in the area because I don't have my own vehicle, but there is either nothing here or I'm just some dumb-looking twenty-something girl who isn't even in college. I have skills! I just haven't been working my whole life, or at least at enough places to make it look like I'm some damn workaholic puppet.

"Der! Lookee, I maka the job go good for you boss man! You likee me work hard like good monkey?"

I don't know what the world is looking for. It eludes me. If I'm doing something wrong, well, I wish somebody would tell me what, because I don't want to just be a cashier girl. I want to at least do something different for once. I also don't want to dance for money. I'm not talking as a stripper, but just as a 'model employee.' It would make me suicidal if I had to spend the rest of my life performing like a good little monkey for money's sake. It's useful, but not that important.

My Etsy shop is very close to being up and running. I just need my debit card from my new bank and I'll be set with that. Hopefully I'm not a failure at that. I don't know. Maybe I can just do that for now.

But currently, fuck college towns with a bunch of replaceable twenty-somethings.

Good Morning, Let's Start Over Tomorrow

Welcome to 2013, you potentially fat, lazy, potentially American blog viewer of mine. Welcome to the year some thought wouldn't ever come. It's late morning, or perhaps evening when you get around to this, and you've just popped some aspirin because last night we celebrated and it was super cool how Jessica did bong hits and keg stands and somebody streaked in the snow and 2013 started off so well. Until you woke up. And you tried to exercise but your head is spinning so now you're sitting on the couch under the covers listening to The Decemberists and trying to stay focused enough to write one fucking post for once.

Well. Maybe.

Maybe you're screwing around at work. In which case, quit screwing around. This isn't important enough for that. But if not, let's rap. This year you pledged to exercise or do diet better or whatever, I get that, but for those of you who drank themselves silly last night/this morning, I have a question. Is today a throwaway? You're probably pretty sore and tired and sick, so you can't get around to that routine til tomorrow. That's kind of weird, right?

I'm just dicking around right now, so I'm going to declare that this is the year of questions. Questioning authority, questioning the questioners, asking yourself stuff. Yeah. That stuff. Like, why did everyone just give up on Gotye? I liked his Making Mirrors album, even if his song Somebody That I Used to Know got super out of hand on the radio, and his other songs were really interesting. So what if everybody else likes the same song as you. If it's decent, catchy music, don't shit on it just because you remember it. I haven't heard anything about it since the noise died down back last year or whenever.

Also, what's with the underground 'anti-pants' movement popularized on Twitter? I really don't like wearing pants, but that's not because it's edgy or weird to take a stance against an item of clothing. They're just uncomfortable. I guess it's good that people are rejecting a rigid item of clothing for once. Maybe we can move past being frightened of nudity that past generations have instilled, for fuck's sake, but it just seems weird that people act like they don't like pants because it's cool.

Okay, I can't really think of any other questions right now, so, keeping with this unstructured mess, less talk about other stuff. Doug Stanhope is coming to the UARK Bowl in March, I do believe, and that's in Fayetteville, like three miles from where I live with Brandon. That's going to be pretty sweet. I've listened to every album I could find on the internets. Including the shit you can't get for free on Spotify. So that's awesome.

Whatever. I'm getting tired. I'm gonna try and write some stupid songs today, so let's conclude this weird dear diary entry blog. Have fun with your hangovers.