My dad was interviewing with an agency for a new job. He figured it would be something small, like an underwriter, or something. And I figured that, hey, it would only be about twenty minutes and we'd be done.

Oh no, my friend.

TWO HOURS.

The Receptionists/Operators eventually asked me what I was doing there, since they probably thought I was a terrorist by then. I mean, I'd been sitting in their office waiting room for over an hour and I haven't said two words to anybody. I'd just been looking through the glass and staring at every person who passed behind it.

Gaaah. Insanity.

But TWO HOURS later my father emerged looking very pleased with himself, because apparently offered him some bigwig statewide job or soem shit. I dunno. It comes with a car and an eighth-floor office, that's all I know.

Go dad. You eat shit sometimes but you really know what the hell you're talking about.

He was so ecstaic that he insisted we go to the mall and shop for school clothes.

Mind you, I've been trying to get him to buy me school clothes since, oh...about two months ago. He's just now getting around to it.

So, okay, I take advantage of this. I brazenly parade around the mall with his credit card. I bought, among other things, a knee-length suede jacket. Real suede. Seventy dollars. Not bad.

By then he was getting scared because he thought I was going to become a member of the Drama Mafia or something.

There's a store in the mall called Vessie B. that advertises heavily on my favorite radio station and is generally very annoying.

Apparently, it is also a mecca for gay men.

It's a boutique, okay? Meaning, girls' clothes. But the gay men all work there. Every single one of 'em. I am on a first-name basis with most of the staff because I've met them doing theater.

Real sweet, huh? But no discounts.

I also had to go and buy all my dance shit. My shoes alone cost over fifty dollars. It's insane.

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I'm sitting here drinking a Coke and I realize that I have a dentist appointment in a couple of hours.

I bet it didn't help that I ate some ooey gooey chocolate for breakfast, eh.

"Ooey gooey." That sounds really gross. Sorry about that.

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The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!