Am I a complete bitch for hating everyone and everything in sight right now? Don't answer that question. (Ha! Without comments, you don't even have the option, do you?) Anyway, a day without whining is like a day without sunshine, so let me indulge.
Our electric bill this month is over $120. I don't understand how this can be the case. We turn off the AC when no one is in the apartment, and I leave my vibrator unplugged when not in use. Damn you, Pepco. Electricity should be free, like music and porn.
I hate my internship. If you have ever interned anywhere, this should not come as a surprise. An internship is an inherently tedious and dehumanizing experience. Typically, for every over-eager douche bag intern with a pitifully hopeful eye on the future, there is a budding alcoholic intern with an eye on 5 p.m. You can guess into which category I fall.
(To clarify, I am interning for a well-known media outlet. I won't go into further detail, because we all know what happens when you bitch about your crappy job on the Internet.)
I am also still waiting tables on the weekends, since my aforementioned internship pays only in promotional garbage from "A Cinderella Story" and the occasional managerial half-smile (You know, the acknowledging glance offered by a salaried employee to an intern that is one-part empathy and two-parts uneasiness). In keeping with the recurring trend of discontent, I hate this job, too. Do yourself a favor and never sit in my section, unless, of course, you are a rich, generous, thirsty (And I'm not talking iced teas and water with lemon, people) gay male.
All this working (and the mounting resentment that goes along with it) leaves me very little time to eat, drink, "drink", play, workout, date, fuck or blog. Sigh. The boys of summer are, indeed, gone.
