One down; one to go

So it all started on the toilet. Let's be honest here, most things do start on that magical, porcelain thinking chair. I was reading the paper looking for jobs when I discovered that a Physical Therapist had a job opening for an assistant. "That sounds like fun," I said out loud, which probably made my co-pilot a little uncomfortable. I send them my resume and cover letter and the next day I received a phone call from a nice girl named Kim asking if I would come in for an interview. I of course said yes. I called Kim for directions and at 2 pm the next day pulled up and parked and walked in to the PT clinic. I told the front desk I was here for a job interview and a lady walked out and told me to come back. It was slightly awkward, as most job interviews are. She made me then fill out an application; I thought this strange having already sent a resume. I received a call the next morning from a guy name Darin telling me that I got the job and that I could start whenever I wanted. I thanked him. A couple hours later Kim called me. "We missed you yesterday, is everything okay?" She politely asked. "Oh Kim, you're silly," I replied, "I was there and interviewed with Linda and then Darin called me this morning saying I got the job." She laughed, still a little confused and said, "there is no one here named Darin or Linda." We then reached the conclusion that I went to the wrong PT clinic, applied, and got that job! It was the most ironic thing ever. The irony of all ironies. I went in to my "real" interview the next day and the PT turned out to be a great guy. After we talked he told me to hang around for a little while and we chatted. He likes photography. It was a really chill place where everyone just talked and joked around. I liked it. I told him if he offered the position, I would take it. I am waiting for a phone call. But if not, at least I have a fall back job now. HA

My Head Doesn't Hurt Anymore

There is one thing that my house of six guys is never lacking: Dr. Pepper. The problem with Dr. Pepper is that it taste so freakin' good, but I have recently found that if you have seven cans a day for about a two weeks and then when the day comes that there is no time to drink one or if I can't escape the campus that when I sometimes blink and look at my watch, I have found that I have been there for 16 hours. There is no Dr. Pepper on campus, except the cans that are smuggled on by the underground network of rebellious students, but I would never buy those cans...I have no idea what else they would be laced with, but that doesn't bother me too much. They are way overpriced and anyone that is familiar with my taste in prices knows that I would rather not eat for 2 or 3 days than pay 3 dollars for a hot dog or 5 for a piece of pizza. Okay that's a lie, not the part about prices or underground network, but I don't have a watch. That was kind of a tangent, but it serves a purpose. Trust me. So one day I was in the library and I got a massive headache. At first I was like "what the crap?" But then I realized that I had not yet drank a Dr. Pepper. I called my friend Krissie, who I was going to a movie with later that night and said, "I need a Dr. Pepper now." She came and got me and I bought a liter and drank it all in about 10 minutes. Almost instantly my head stopped hurting. It was magic. And the cashier at the gas station was flirting with me. But there was no way I would hit that. She worked at a gas station. The End.