09.08.01 :: 8:36 pm
So, yeah, the girls and I reunited and went drinking at Max Fish. Fuckin yeah. At one point, about three margaritas into her evening, she spots some lame chick wearing a beret and a white shirt tied at her belly button and goes, "What's up with the retarded version of Sarah jessica parker? I mean, she's cute and all...I wouldn't kick her out of bed or anything...unless I thought she'd fuck better on the floor..." Cue the deer! And the hiccups!
It's lines like those, delivered deadpan and drunk that make me love her so.
So, the news is that I no longer work at Basic, which is just fine by me. I was getting so fucking tired of waking up at 7:30 every Saturday and Sunday morning. And, you know, I like my stinky attitude. So pthbrthrhthrrtt!
And I exit, middle finger waving, cash in hand. Adios.
This can only be a sign from the Fates and the Furies that I'm supposed to get the job I really really want. So I'm going to kick some ass at the interview and accept no less than $45k and do my thing and be the most fabulous Sundaygirl and generally make their heads swivel. Done and done.
No more ramen or nights in because I don't have the cash. Fuck that. This is going to be my birthday present to myself: financial fucking freedom...okay, maybe not freedom just yet...financial fucking lenciency. Toot toot, motherfuckers.
I'm begin to roll. Fatsip, fatsip, fatsip...