Got a job interview on Friday. And thus and so. It begins. Have been working at getting everything done. Personal statement. Paying bills. Job applications. Resume.
The list seems to asexually reproduce.
Last night at the Latona pub, there was music. Live music. Swear to god in Himmel that the upright bass player was the bass player for Moonpenny Opera. Without the scary clown makeup. Swear it on Grandma's bible. Swear it on the little fontenelle of someone's precious baby. Swear it on Kenga's socks.
And the beer was delicious.
No chocolate cake for us, though. We had enough of that methamphetamine concoction last week. We just said no. And had quesidillas instead.
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