Fade into the wall

Today was a rough day. And by rough, I mean absofuckenlutely boring. Our instructor wasn't there, so we got shoved upstairs to sit around and apply, apply, apply cholestoral on our heads (read: mannequin). And it sucked. So I left early. No appointments and a bad sinus headache make Mal a grumpy girl.

In lieu of sitting around school with my thumb up my ass, I took a field trip to the mall *gasp* to look for a new job. Ugh, I wish I could be done with school already so that I wouldn't have to find some minial, minimum wage paying, I'm totally older than everyone else job. But I digress. I went to forever 21 and Hot Topic. Both illustrious in thier own right, I know, but I need a job and I'm desperate. As I was walikng into the consumerism conglommerate, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a man and a woman. Both with huge, fake smiles superglued to their pale, zombielike faces. I knew what they wanted. I could see the look in their soulless, blank stares. But there was no way for me to escape. So I tried to blend into the Forever 21 windowed wall. I slid across it, walking sideways. But it didn't work. They spotted me. Started walking towards me. I tried to avoid eye contact. But then it happened. The man started talking to me. Words spilling out so fast, all I could make out was "survey...$15.00...quick". I shook my head and said no thanks and sped walked out of there as fast as I could.

In case you didn't notice, I hate those people. Right up there with Kelly Clarkson's 'Since you've been gone'. And for those of you who know me well, that's a hatred that's pretty deep. And I mean with a fiery passion.

So the applications are dropped off and now all I have to do is wait. I don't like waiting. Guess I should have thought of that before...well, just before.

Ok, I'm done. It's hard for me to concentrate. I've decided I've pretty much become like a man...in the thinking about sex every 2 seconds way, not in the growing a penis way. Five weeks and counting. Another thing clouding my concentration are, not surprising at all, boys. Well, I guess that goes hand in hand with the whole thinking about sex all day. Why is it that girls have to overthink, analyze and obsess over everything having to do with boys while THEY get to just sit around scratching their balls obsessing over what they'll eat next. Oh, to have it easy. But I guess the grass is always greener on the other side.

Bombarded isn't the right term, but it's the first that comes to mind.