THE MODERN WORLD HURTS MY BRAIN SO, SO MUCH

11.2.10

GIVE ME YOUR MONEY

SERIOUSLY. I NEED A JOB.* I AM BEGGING FOR IT.
Not unlike my friend KFed here.


It's been a hard few years, living on a shoestring. First of all, it's difficult because once or twice a day, someone swings your home around with their big ass giantess hands and unlaces or laces your home all over the fucking place. Then you have to spend the rest of the day gathering your possessions like a peasant, and running as fast as you can back onto that shoe or it's back to Cardboard Shacks 'R' Us - although, I did hear that homeless fashion was back "in" again. 

No, but seriously. Being poor is exhaustingly boring and overrated. We all know it, at some point in our lives: having a car in a near-death state, stealing toilet paper from work or bars, getting overly excited over $2 drinks, always at the ready to ask your friends "are you still using that?", scouring restaurant alleys for scraps . . . Oh, wait. I actually don't do that.**

I'm already long passed the paralyzing fear of working in a new environment. It was always a struggle for me to try to get new jobs in the past due to crippling anxiety, but fuck that. I can bullshit myself long enough to finally achieve gainful enough employment that I could, I dunno, maybe pay my library debt off so that they don't keep following me around threatening lemon-juiced paper cuts? Sleep soundly a week through without thinking of grandma-duping and taking-candy-from-baby like schemes ? Go out to lunch and get a salad with my gigantor sandwich? Fuck. Yes. 
(mmm. sandwich.)

So, please, universe. Give me a job. Give me your money. Give me your money.
*A better job. I already have one.
**ANYMORE

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