I suppose the advantage of knowing that you did not get the job before they inform you is that it gives you a little time to let the rejection sink in, so that when they finally contact you, you will be able to thank them graciously without a lump in your throat. Thanks for hugging back, M.

The search continues.

Things aren't too bad right now. Between spending 20-something hours a week at the restaurant and two nights a week in the suburbs, I have watched many many episodes of Jerry Bruckheimer awesomeness, fallen in giddy like with the Venture Brothers and earned my SmartServe certification. Eating out has mainly been reserved for the Saturday brekkie and I have grown comfortable with my Saturday screenings at Jackman. I started to make an effort to eat fruits and vegetables, but gave that up after a few days.

"So what do you do for a living?" I have stopped justifying why I am a waitress. When I simply say "I am a server," people often lean in, expecting some kind of explanation. If they want to assume that it's just a part-time thing while I finish my undergrad, so be it. I kind of miss my EI days and that feeling of smug satisfaction when I could honestly respond with "What do I do? Dick all."

I am making enough at the restaurant to get by and I can sleep in/lounge about in my underwear as late as I want (except on Sundays). I have my days free to hang out with T (when she's not in class) and I don't have to line up for the washer and dryer. Retail store hours coincide (conveniently) with my free time. The trade-off is that my already irregular eating habits and patterns are further messed up by this crazy schedule; just the other night my dinner consisted of a bowl of sausages and a bottle of Yop. I have also added the ever-so-tasty and creamy (I can't believe it's lactose-free!) Ensure to my diet. (It would break my parents' hearts to read this posting). Moreover, I never get to see my dear Chateauvians, since I get home when they're asleep and wake up when they're gone.

Meanwhile, I am relying (a little too heavily) on retail therapy to keep my spirits up. As difficult as it was to justify the purchase of a belt which cost more than a pair of pants, I must admit that the girl at Banana Republic is fabulous at her job. Equally fabulous is the lighting in the changeroom.

Som is trying to convince me that I'd look great in this suit. Gorgeous and stunning. At $30, it's quite the steal.