Hey doubters! I'm feeling bummed. I've spent my last two afternoons calling places in Melbourne, trying to get a work experience placement at somewhere cooler than Maccas. How come all the coolest places don't take work experience people? I think it's a ruse. I think they just don't want to have to deal with the inevitable sullen teenager in ragged jeans and baggy ripped jumpers and trilbys. Okay, so that's just me - minus the trilby, my hair doesn't agree with hats - but at least I don't wear my pants halfway down my ass with chains hanging out of the pockets. Unless it's for a pocketwatch. I'm such a dork. I got a couple of responses from a couple of good places, but it's looking dubious. I might end up working at my dad's scientific institution. Blech.
Okay, I fold. I have to admit it. It's partially my own fault. No, I'm going to be honest here, if it kills me. Which it probably will - I must be notorious in hell for all my 'little white lies'. At least none of mine have brought down any major corporations or spiralled a nation into ruin. Yet. So: it is my own fault. Completely. Ahhh, that makes me want to smash something. Not my laptop screen - I need this baby, His name is Benjamin, after Breaking Benajmin, one of my favourite bands, and we're in love. True love... so sweet. Anyways, because I only started calling people this week, everyone has already taken people, and I'm left outside, in the cold, face pressed up to the glass like a lonely hippy orphan... Sympathy vote :D Lol I'll just be a broke hobo busker in later life. Throw me money!
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