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July 08, 2005
God Damn It.
So the husband explains very carefully to the freelance agency that he will not be available next week from Wednesday to Friday.
"I will be in San Diego," he says. "I have been planning it for a year. Don't call."
"Okay!" says the freelance agency. "Gotcha!"
Moments pass. A leaf falls from an aged oak. A drooling, apple-cheeked infant smiles his first, gummy smile. And for just a second, a fraction of a second, the world remembers how to follow simple instructions.
Phone rings.
"Hi, it's me, the freelance agency. Sup. So, uh, I'm here to offer Matt a four-month gig with excellent pay within walking distance of your apartment. It will rock his cock off. To Mars. But he has to start next week. Has to."
Buh.
"Oh, and two job interviews. He has two interviews for two different fulltime positions. One of which would mean roughly a 2/3rds increase in pay. Next week. Date nonegotiable."
Guh.
"You can do that, right?"
....
Yeah, so.... looks like I'm doing San Diego alone, folks. Cough up your phone numbers and sitck 'em in an email to me sometime this weekend, cuz for four days next week, I'm gonna be one lonely sumnabitch.
Anyone in Chicago need a plane ticket to San Diego, nonstop, leaving Wednsday evening, returning Sunday evening late?
Fuck.
Posted by Spike at July 8, 2005 06:23 PM
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