Alls I want is Tom Cruise to play me inthe film versien.
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I dont know abuot you but I hate talkin about money. Mabye thats why I have so little of it.
He starts rambling agian on how great he is and quotes this hourly wage that is so danm low, well, I might as well be workin for minunum wage, because he thoght that people who do my type of work (entry level HTML in the middle of nowhere) were worth only that much.
So I treid to make a joke out of it.
"Mrs. Robinson," I said, "Are you trying to seduce me?"
The problem with me is that i am much more funnier in print than I am in persen. Plus, allot of people dont even think Im funny at all in persen, so if you are one of those people you coud imagine how unfunny I am in persen.
I said that i coud probly make more in McDonalds and he says, "Then what are you doin here? Go to McDonolds! I do not even have any open jobs!"
"Your resume is nothin special!" he said, pushin the envellope, the Second Day air envelope which held my resume, over to me across the huge emptey table.
Not just any hair, but one of Granfather's huge black coarse wiggly disgousting revolting reppulsive horroble horrid horiffic (did I say wiggly?) bodily hairs.
I have wrote about Granfather's hair in the past about how it is not human hair, it is not even alien hair, but I canot discribe it. Plus down at the roots there is allways this awful white and pink and very alive looking bulb that looks like some sort of scallion. Yes, there was one of his HAIRS, right there undor the label.
The way it was positioned undor the label you know that Granfather did it on purpoce. Yes there was no way this coud be an acident.
"My ass hurts from sitting on the Concorde," he said abruptley, and withuot inviting me, he got up from his dining room chair and huffed somwhat inpatietly into the living room. I was feeling very unconfortable and so I folowed him.
"No shoes on the rug!" he said. "If you want to finish this...this conversation, this interview, whatevor it is, then take them off."
The point of this is that I have to wear speceil socks that are like mittens to keep the toes sepparated and this morning I did not know I woud be on a job interveiw, (nonetheless taking my shoes off) and so I forgot I was wearin red and white striped toesocks. What is that word they use when you are more than houmilliated: I was mortified.
My host, looking at me like I was an ass, then began to wave arround in his hand the Second Day Air envelope (the one with the hair on it) and adressed me sternly, (withuot mentioning the hair, but you know that was on his mind), "You know, I got this in the mail just this morning."
"I just didnt see any reason to call you, but someone who I dont even know gave me a follow up phone call urging me to call you...
"And so, before even opening this envolope, or even looking at it closely, and against my better jugdement I did call you.
"Now tell me, he said to me almost shoutting, "WHO is your boss again?"
I told him her name agian, but he was still drawing a blank. Then I explainned what she looked like. And when he figuored out who she was, he was no longor almost shouting, he realy WAS shouting.
"Oh, HER!! The perky warty, toadfaced little woman! Listen, Mr. Miller, I met that little hag at Internet World once, and she latched onto me.
"She's been practicaly stalking me. She is NOT my freind, and I'm not her freind, and, hey...HEY...HEY!!!!!
All of a suddon somthing bad hapened. We both heard a noise from a few feet away, an odd noise. I tell you on first inpression it was the sound of someone crumpling up a three-by-three foot sheet of holiday cellophaine into a tight ball. You know the crinkley sound. We both turned arround at the same time to see the dog, that giant dog squatting right on the rug. He was such a big dog that when he sqautted he was still almost as tall as i was. His ears, which had been pointing up the whole time at atenttion, were now flat and perpindiculor to his head. He was letting go the most giant crap I have ever seen come out of a dog. He was stairing right into my eyes. You know how dogs are. He had the look of eager concern on his face.
I treid to ignore what was going on. Glancing out of the cornor of my eye I saw that it was atleast the size of the thing that came out of the Tricerotops in Jurassic Park that Laura Dern stuck her arm in to feel arround for berry seeds. Exept a diferent shape, (I will not go into it), but Damn. This was one big, one big ass, honkin load.
I said to the guy, agian, tryin to avoid the sitaution, "So, you dont KNOW my boss?"
And he said to me, his face now purple, "You know, you are on a danm job interview for cryin out loud. And you bring your danm dog. You damn hick. Who brings his dog to a job interview?"
I said to him, "This is not my dog."
And he says to me, "This is not your dog?"
And I said to him, "NO, this is not my dog: I thoght it was YOUR dog.