Remember when I mentioned that I am sweaty, for a girl? (Hell who am I kidding, I’m sweaty period.) Well if I thought it was bad before, it was nothing compared to the stickiness of running back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room for five straight hours at work. Damn you, dishwasher steam and hoe-cake grease! Give me a break already; my skin had just gotten consistently clear! I shake my fist at your grossness.

Shockingly, a middle-aged man flagged me down today while I was running around and pulled the old, “Where are you from, because I could SWEAR I’ve seen you before” bit. After giving him my life story and ruling out us ever having met, he told me I was “striking.” Some guys like a girl encased with a thin sheen of fry grease, I guess. There’s something for everyone.

I feel so much better now, having a job. It’s very weird, but even being in school full-time I felt lazy, because I wasn’t pulling in actual money. Not just because the tuition here is crazy high, or because I am on the largest amount of federal loan that a grad student can take out, because it is, and I am, but I enjoy having a job and a source of income, no matter how small. I think the whole American capitalism/work ethic thing definitely took effect in me at some point in childhood.