"When a problem comes along you must whip it"
-Whip it, Devo

I heard this song at karaoke tonight.

I'm also drunk. Read this with caution.

I’m like the only person in the world who complains when a job interview goes well and I have the feeling I’m going to be hired. That’s what happened today on my Costco emergency back-up “I might need some money now” job. I’m so disappointed that I might actually get the job. I’m far too lazy for that. But I feel bad since my mom pretty much called them on the phone and said, “Hire my daughter. Please.” And it’s not like my mom is super nice and calls random places of business to beg for them to hire me as if I am an invalid, but she is actually gainfully employed by said bulk retailer. I have another interview with some sort of news centre and I’m not sure if it’s print or television news, and one to be a producer’s assistant at a television production house.

"When a good time turns around you must whip it"

I had another date tonight with my date from Tuesday, who, like the Old Man, is also called Justin. And I understand that that means taping Grey’s Anatomy. Fuckin’ make out city at the Gladstone. I’m typing this while more than a little tipsy, but at least that shows you I’m alone. If Kate taught me anything, it was not to shave my legs so I always have an excuse. Granted, it hasn’t always worked, but tonight proved successful. No washroom or back alley stories to tell you. And I already know that I’m typing this and am going to be totally mortified by it tomorrow. Maybe now I’m just your single dating friend who flat out tells guys that “I can’t take you home because I didn’t make my bed or shave my legs, so next time anyway.” Fuck going to the Dance Cave on Saturday to make out with random dudes. I’m still going to give the patented Mairin/me slogan “make out with me!!!!” as per Mairin’s underwear that I successfully and artfully designed for her. But given my disdain for strangers and new found make out friend, I don’t see the need. I’m not a whore (keep your comments to yourselves if they involve washrooms and alleyways after a few rounds). I’m fully aware that I’m drunkenly and incoherently rambling but it’s almost 3am. I’m shaking my fist at you all for judging me.

"Shape it up, get straight, Go forward, move ahead"

Earlier, I started to laugh on the subway because there was a sign for debt relief that said, “Grocery bills shouldn’t be eating you.” That’s not really that funny at all, but I just imagined bags of groceries eating people. Vivid imagination + lack of sleep + fear or work will do that to you.

Dan and Carrie-Anne are trying to get me to watch MTV’s Laguna Beach show. They forced DVDs of seasons 1 and 2 on me.
I’m fucking going to bed. I know I’m drunk. Once I'm sobe rin the morning I'll give an account of the cowboys singing country karaoke at the Gladstone. Actually, that's all the story is. This guy named Hank witha beard and cowboy hat sang all these country songs. then somebody sang "Whip It." Then I blacked out. Ladies, email me for gossipy details.

So drunk. But yet, I publish a blog entry.

"Try to detect it - it's not too late, To whip it, whip it good"