Can I list "working on my resume" as a interest on my resume? I seem to be doing an awful lot of it lately. Except it's really not very interesting. It's painful. My life in paper form sucks ass. Technically, I guess that means my life so far has sucked. But I never really realized how pathetic it was until I saw it all written down in front of me.

It's not pathetic! It's...Um. Er. Yeah.

Wait. I've got it. I've LIVED, damn you! LIIIIVVVEEDDD!! OK. Not really. But I've been reasonably content for most of it. That should count for something. I've read a lot. That should count for something. I've thought a lot. That should so totally count for something.

"Hello, Mr Employer. This is where I've come from. I know exactly why I am where I am, and given the opportunity, I'll tell you all about it, with diverse and entertaining literary allusions. GIMME JOB NOW!"

Hee. Actually, "GIMME JOB NOW" has a certain ring to it. Maybe I'll just start using that.

"Sirs:

GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW. GIMME JOB NOW."

Am I hired yet?

***

My grandma gave me a bag of carrots today. Apparently, at some point today, she thought to herself, "These carrots, they have been in my fridge since Christmas. Perhaps Ana would enjoy them." She grabbed the carrots. She drove the carrots 20 miles in her car, to present them to me at my dad's birthday party. At no point during the proceedings did it occur to her how totally INSANE this was. Carrots. Month old. Received as a gift. I'm really not sure how I feel about this. I'm pretty sure it's not funny at all, though.

The funny part is, I then left the carrots at my parents' house. I didn't mean to.

They aren't going to know where these carrots came from. Grandma and I were alone when she handed me the carrots. My parents might not even have known there were carrots on the premises. They're going to have to deal with a random bag of carrots in their living room for no apparent reason. That's good stuff. Any time you can make someone else's life surreal, do it.

So, wait. How come it's messed up in a bad way when Gramma gives you carrots, but when you share the carrotty goodness, it's Erisian hilarity at its finest?

Maybe Gramma was just fucking with me.

***

And this is going on in my living room right now...

KC: I couldn't help noticing that you had chocolate and strawberry Quik...

D: Are you seriously drinking that shit?

KC: Is there something wrong with it?

D: Not really, but there's a really good chance that Dante and I made that particular batch.

Dante: Oh, god. That's the Bunny, isn't it? She's drinking Bunny.

D: Last summer, we were making strawberry Quik. Red dye everywhere, strawberry powder death to inhale, the bunny shaped jars didn't really fit in our machines...

Dante: And the stinging. Don't forget about the stinging.

D: You are drinking our tears!

KC: I don't want it anymore. (To Rigid)You drink it.

Rigid: Wow. Your tears taste pretty good.

Hee. Maybe I should go be social for a while.

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