I had a fit of desperation the other day. It looks as if I didn't get that job, which totally BUMMED me as I was all excited for it, and I haven't exactly been excited about employment for a very long time. Like, I even told people I applied for this job! How embarrassing when they realise that I didn't get it! I'm going to look like a major loser. Ugh. I hate weakening myself by showing that I actually want something. I tell you: applying for jobs is for schmucks. I'm going to have to get a job the old fashioned way: meeting someone with a little power and then sucking the cum from their balls.

Simple.

Well, that's what I thought. But then I was having a total Reality Bites moment (you know, when Winona is all comatose on the couch watching Oprah and she's just smoking and then the camera pans back to the ashtray and it is, like, full? That was totally me, except replace the cigarettes with Diet Coke cans and Oprah with gay porn and Australia's Next Top Model), and I suddenly worked out what I would do. I'm seriously considering enrolling in architecture school. Of course, by the time I graduated from that I'd be, like, thirty-ish. But I always regret not doing that from the get-go. And education is always good, right?

Okay. So. I either enroll in architecture, or find some hot Swedish power guy who can give me a cushy job. Simple! But only if he is one of those tall, attractive ones. Those ugly gnome-y Swedes freak me out.