I managed to somehow miraculously get enough sleep last night and even beat the alarm clock this morning. It's like Jesus finally decided to stop shitting on my chest every time we'd make love and I'm crying for him to stop, I don't think it's sexy and it burns and leaves a ras...wait, nevermind, forget you read that.
There's a Post-It attached to my computer screen here at work that says I applied for a copyediting job somewhere else, since as I recall, I forgot to CC myself when I applied for that job and thus, when I eventually get the "no thanks you suck" email, I'll remember. Trying to get any sort of (copy)/editing and writing jobs these days outside of economics and music are almost impossible for someone who can't even be bothered to care that he looks like he should be shooting a family heirloom AK-47 from a mountaintop in what used to be Persia, at some poor kid from Milwaukee or whatever, who just wanted to get out of the 'hood and make something for himself in This Man's Army.
