So, although I have a killer story to write for Saturday, I decided that this little glitch wasn't goping to fuck up my Friday night plans. Went out until 2:00 am. It was good, especially because Third World Ant was in town too. But remind me never to wear my special boob-revealing green top out to a nightclub again.
I went to the interview with bloodshot eyes and a headache that could've killed me. The editor - an asshole - I have decided, gave us a lecture on some marketing concept while we had to write a story on it. He is a slavedriver. He works 8-5 on a saturday. I cannot work for people like this, so even if I got the job, and my story kicked ass, I will not take it. Picky is as picky does I say.
Saturday we had to go out, because it was a..and I use this term loosely..friend's birthday. Laura's birthday. The girl that's so annoying, I'd rather be moored on an island with human-eating iguanas with Lorin and Paul rather than Laura. Anyhoo, we went home early, because this party lifestyle I am tending to lead is losing its lustre. I am tired and I look like death.
But I have an awesome interview on Tuesday - for deputy editor at some magazine. I know the girl who's interviewing me too, which may or may not make things easier.
In the meantime, I still hate my ex b ecause I love him but shouldn't because he's an asshole, I need to sleep and I'm clering out my desk today. It's my last day at my company. I'm past being sad, now I just need to get outta here and start afresh.
Read about Amsterdam on laurianclem.blogspot.com