8:12 p.m. - 2005-04-04
BFRB and I were at the Evil Empire, as usual. And as we were walking to the nail place, we saw an interracial midget couple pushing a shopping cart.
Now, on to the drunken pictures, which is why you're all here on a Monday.
Friday night, BFRB, Vix and I went out. They weren't covering anything for the magazine, so it was just pure entertainment. We went to see the second band that was playing: Star Crash Speedway. Unlike the crap I've been dragged to for the last several weeks, they are actually good. But of course, the first band almost sent us screaming from the room. Plus, they were totally not following the house rules.
They had too many guitars, too many singers, and too many costume changes for a short set. Seriously. Check out the guy in the yellow outfit with the weirdo bug glasses.
Then he took off the jacket, and put on his blindfold.
As if that were not enough, he put this preschool project on his head. I think it was supposed to symbolize clouds. Or something. But really, all it looked like was a two-year-old's rendition of Santa's beard, comprised of a piece of cardboard, some glue, and some cotton balls.
I guess all those costume changes made him like, really hot? Because then he took off the t-shirt underneath his yellow plastic overalls.
I could have forgiven all this nonsense if the band hadn't sucked. But they did. So Vix and I decided to serenade Trix. Our karaoke rendition of "Build Me Up Buttercup" didn't really go with the music, but no one really noticed.
A good time really was had by all...once we had consumed enough liquor and listened to the real band, that is.
Oh, and some dude had this t-shirt on...
After a hard night of drinking, we were in need of nourishment. So we head on over to the IHOP. At this point, Vix and I were way more drunk than BFRB, and we were playing with my new pen. It's a furry yellow pen with a furry yellow Marshmallow Peep Bunny on top. (I love post-easter clearances at SuperTarget, yes I do.) Vix and I had fun with our bunny. BFRB had to be persuaded to pose for HER photo.
Anyway, I had a job interview today. It was all well and good, until, when we were almost done, the woman asked about salary requirements....and when I told her, she flinched. I'm not asking for any more than I made at my last job, for fuck's sake. Really. I wanted to yank out my line about not being able to buy Gucci at Wal-Mart, but decided against it. On a positive note, I do have a temp job for the next month or so, and it DOES pay well.
It was so weird today.
Let me back up a little. I left FHH on fairly good terms. Gave lots of notice, stayed for a big trial, yada yada yada. However, after I left, they owed me for seven days of vacation. They only wanted to pay me for three. As a result, I sent a not-very-nice e-mail to them. I figured this would kill any chance of a reference from some of the senior partners, but I'm still friendly with enough other people there that I decided that spewing forth some bile would not do any harm.
I knew the office manager would give me a good reference, so when the temp agency lady told me that, I was slightly surprised (I didn't quite expect "glowing"...I was not a happy camper at that job, and as a result, I was occasionally a complete pain in the ass about things that pissed me off). However, when the chick I interviewed with said she called the senior partner, with whom I did NOT get along, I figured I was completely screwed. However, he gave me a good reference. I was shocked. I almost take back some of the mean things I said about him. Almost.
So, I suppose I ought to be getting my shit together for (gasp) work tomorrow. It just feels so surreal to be thinking about getting up in the morning and putting on makeup and something besides gym clothes or jeans. Don't get me wrong...I'm glad I'm going to be working...but after almost two months of NOT working, it's an adjustment.
And of course, it's like 80 degrees outside, and most of my nice work stuff...is more appropriate for winter. Go figure.
Oh, and one last thing...thanks to twobadddogs for the time waster.