It's time that we (specifically, me) grow old and do some shit.

I saw Peter, Bjorn and John last night at the Empty Bottle which was a lot of fun. Unfortunately, the Empty Bottle is in Ukrainian Village, which is really far from my apartment in the land where there cabs stop cruising at noon, and the show was at 10:30. I expected to get home around two, but lucked out and caught a cab and got home around 1:15. Adam took today off, so I knew I had to actually get up this morning and come to work, but I remembered that in college I'd drive to DC to see shows in the middle of the week all the time and get home at three in the morning after driving two hours home and still manage to wake up in time for my morning classes, so a few hours of sleep and waking up to go to work at eight wouldn't be a problem, right? I'd totally have time to wash the Empty Bottle out of my hair and everything.

Ha. Who are we kidding? I woke up at seven and said, "Fuck this shit!" and called my manager and told her I'd be late. At this point, I could care less, since showing up is pretty much the only expectation I have to meet.

I get more and more frustrated with this job search thing every day, especially since I keep applying for the same shitty jobs that, really, shouldn't require MUCH experience. Yet, I "don't have administrative experience," which is something I don't accept because what have I done for the last year? Just because I haven't made travel plans for someone doesn't mean I can't. I have a college degree, for Christ's sake. This reminds me (and I'm sorry, I hate doing this, but please, it's fitting) of the scene in Reality Bites where Lelaina goes to her parents for a loan after she is unsuccessful at finding a job. Her mother says, "Why don't you get a job at BurgerRama? They'll hire you! Just the other day I was watching the TV and they had this little retarded boy working the cash register!" Lelaina replies, "Because I'm not retarded, Mom." I feel like that's what I'm thinking every time I check in with a staffing recruiter. "Why don't you take this job at a car rental company?" "Because I'm not retarded, Mom."

I got an email this morning from one of the counselors, announcing that she'll be out on maternity leave starting Monday. I'm not really torn up about it, since she's one of the group that actually have salaried positions and therefore don't speak to me because they assume I'm as dumb as the rest of the people I work with (in other words, retarded by association). (I take it back; she spoke to me once when I was accused of fucking something up, and I had to march into her office and show her that, no, it was one of her salaried counterparts that Anyway, fine: go and have a baby before your "hot mom" status can be revoked. But let me tell you one thing: if I'm here when she comes back from maternity leave, I'm going to kill myself. Srsly.

It's kind of funny, but this stupid job thing is taken over most of my neuroses recently, which is a nice change from constantly thinking that I'll never date anyone or be in a relationship. I've realized lately that it was silly for me to think that I'd be alone for the rest of my life (which I kind of decided in high school), because I am, apparently, attractive and can attract others, so at least I'm doing okay in that department. I don't even have to resort to organizing a "hipster consortium" to find someone. Thank God.