Well, I don’t have any wild and crazy rendezvous with unbearably gorgeous and manly men, so I’ll just tell you about my job offers.

Why the hell are you so obsessed with sex, anyway? It’s, like, so prurient.

Anyway, my ’weetude went very well, if I do say so myself. So far I have one job offer and one second-round interview. (Second-round interview is at Auto Trader Magazines—can somebody please tell me what goes on at a second-round interview at Auto Trader? Do they make sure you own a monster truck?) The first job I like for two reasons: one, they have an Office Dog, which is just plain rad (I had to step over him to get into the publisher’s office), and two, the secretary wears knee-high leather boots and a miniskirt (and she ain’t that young). This is definitely an interesting place.

Ug. I’m tired of talking about jobs already.

So….

It’s amazing how many monster trucks there are in Arizona...

...I’m tired, ok? I had two interviews today! The second one was two hours long and they said I needed serious training in editing! How do they say that and then offer you the job? It makes you feel like you’re the least unappealing candidate instead of the most appealing one! Jerks. Who else but an incredibly talented and scrupulous and naturally anal editor would make sure that all the quotes in her blog are smart quotes and not straight ones? Who else?!

Anyway, I’m holding out for Hooters. I happened to talk to one of the waitresses there (when I called) and she said you don’t need any training (when I asked about available positions) and that you make lots of cash! But who knows, she’s probably 16 and thinks eight bucks an hour is a lot of cash.

I have a question, while I’m at it: does blogging fall within the F*cking Around category, or the Polishing Craft of Writing category? I tend to think the latter, but feel free to chime in.

...

I mean, I can’t help it that I’m bad at lying. The event planning people (the ones who are woefully unappreciative of my superior editing skilz) want someone to work there for a long-ass time, and I just want something to do until I split for California. Don’t tell me I’m afraid to commit! You would be too if you lived in a place that was hotter than a (…quick, what’s the opposite of colder than a witch’s tit??) …Gee, that would be A SUMMER DAY IN PHOENIX, ARIZONA. Or so I hear.

So, jobs, yeah. Woo.

God, I am so unfabulous. Maybe I should take a lover.