A Rough Go...

So, a week ago I decided to start a blog. Today, I did it. That right there tells you something about me. However, even though I can procrastinate with the best of them, I actually had things happen to me this week, leaving me with little time to start this little bugger. Would you like to know what happened? Let's start last Tuesday at about 1:30 pm.

Phone: Ring Ring!
Me: Hello?
Library Lady: We're tired of you bothering us with your resumes and other such nonsense, come in for an interview already!
Me: Yay! I'm so there!
Library Lady: Good, then will you leave us alone?
Me: Definitely maybe!
Library Lady: Ugh, goodbye already.
Me (while jumping up and down): Goodbye! Goodbye, Library Lady, goodbye! Thank you! Thank you!
Phone: Click

Let's now fast forward to Friday

Interview Lady: Oh hello, we'll be right with you in an hour and a half after we told you to be here, we've been interviewing all day and are totally drained and have no energy left to talk to you but you're here so, you know, whatever
Me (annoyingly smilely and happy and other such nonsense): No problem, thanks for calling me in!

Hour and a half passes

Interview Lady: Alright come on in and sit in this hot room and stumble through these questions while the four of us pretend to listen
Me (see above): OK, great!

Questioning begins, my answers go as follows:

Me: Um, well, maybe, perhaps, sometimes, only on Flag Day, ok, ok, ok, ok, ok, ok, ok, ok, uh huh, of course, right, right, right, really, huh, um, well, maybe perhaps, sometimes
Interview Lady: Alright spaz, that's enough, you can go.

So, not my finest performance. And it was only an interview for the job that I went to grad school for but who wants to work anyway, more time for Judge Judy this way.

Putting my crushing disappointment aside, I gamely pull myself together and head over to the lovely Georgetown apartment of my lovely friend for the going away party of her lovely boyfriend. Good time is had by all, especially by me because I drink lots and lots.

The next day, let's call it Sunday, I am driving another friend of mine back to the party apartment where we have left her car in the name of safety. On that ride I look in my rearview window and notice that there is a weird smudge on my back windshield. Then, I notice there is also a footprint (Timberland bootprint, if we're being specific) on the windshield. Then, I notice that ceiling of my car (is that what you call it? I know it's the roof but what do you call it while you're inside?) appears to be sagging. Curious, no? I immediately start to freak out, but I am driving, so my movements are limited. We get my lovely friend to her car and I get out and yes, half of the roof of my car has a gigantic dent in it. Sad, no? Well, there are also five other dents on my car and fucking Timberland and hand prints all over the place and I want to cry. I feel only slightly better when my friend notices footprints on her car and a little dent as well, but still, my car is fucked up.

So, not my favorite five days, but I'm sure things will look up. At least once they call me to tell me I didn't get the job, I can move on.