you already know how this will end

Filling out job applications always makes me cringe, usually because seeing the last year in such a literal context fills me with feelings of inadequacy. But the good news is I'm filling out a job app, right? My friend is working to jobpimp me a spot at a cool little coffee shop here, thereby facillitating my leap into the ultimate post-college professionally-disenchanted cliche. Which is not a fucking bad thing, really.

I need this opportunity to boost my local celebrity status. Not to mention, oh, ensuring my financial survival. Plus, word from my jobpimp is this place is quite the hotspot for young gay men. And if I'm going to embrace the concept of using my degree to sling coffee, I might as well take it all the way to service industry sleaze. In a classy way, of course.

This morning, I'm listening to my 'Smoking Out the Basement Window' mix, which is the soundtrack of my days back in Montana before moving to Texas. I spent many post-restaurant hours staring bug-out-edly into wood paneling listening to that mix. Odd to hear it again now, so much later, as I am returning to the world of working way too hard for tips.

Other news: my beautiful Agnes requires numerous repairs. My fear grows hourly. The time has come for me to attempt to bribe and beg my ex-neighb into doing some repairs for me.