Megabus, Micro-toilet, Medio-disappointment

On the Megabus ride back to New York after a fun-filled weekend with friends in Boston, I watched National Geographics: Nazi Super Ship on my laptop. The documentary was about the Bismark... Bismark? Bizmark? Biz Markie? Anyhow, it was not that interesting and I really had to pee. I usually try to avoid using bus and airplane bathrooms, but this time, I had to go like nobody's business. Those two coffees I had prior really wanted out. Freak man, bus bathrooms are half the size of airplane bathrooms! There was barely enough space for me to wiggle my jeans down. I have not had this little stall space since I was at that American bar in Mexico.

I got it to work.
Once I settled back in my seat, I checked my email (the free WiFi hardly makes up for the toilet situation) and found out I did not get the job I interviewed for on Thursday. Graduating with a fancy/expensive masters from an Ivy has failed to get me a job that pays $15 an hour. So, here I am, my hands stinking of hand sanitizer, trying to scribble images with MS Paint to pass the time.
If I do not get any good graduate school news this week I will most definitely go bonkers.

I good at work. You hire me, okay?

This morning I had an interview for the developer/coordinator position of an educational cartoon program. I did not have a suit, so two days ago I bought one at H&M. I looked like something between the Hulk, because the jacket was one size too small (yes, this was the best I could come up with on a budget), and Quasimodo, because I slouch and am usually unaware of it. Well, last night there was a huge blizzard that stacked up about 19 inches of snow. Not knowing where I would leave my boots after switching to interview-appropriate footwear, I traveled through the snow in heels. I am bad-ass. I almost slipped and broke my neck and died like... five times. I only got swamped in an ice cold puddle once. The further I marched on, the nastier I started to look. My hair was wind-blown in a non sexy way... a mangy way. My face was weathered with fear of slipping and breaking my neck. My right foot was cold and wet from stepping into a mound of snow when the path got too narrow.

I finally arrived with time to spare. The receptionist asked if I needed to freshin' up in the restroom. What? I am the sodden lovechild of the Hulk and Quasimodo... I am not sure how much freshin' can help me at this point.
The research director and grant writer took me into the conference room. I driveled on about myself... all of it is now a blur. I might not have been coherent. "I went to school. Yes, Columbia. I go there. I used to go there. Research. I know how to do that. Analyze the data, I analyze so super. Behavioral therapist. I did that. I know how to communicate. I communicate good to kids... children. I like conflict. No, conflict resolution. I do that good by not responding and strategizering. I can help your company like, ummm, become big like huge. Duane Reade is my future. I, uhhh... I mean I make you big like Dune Reese. Reese Witherspoon. Please gib me job. GIB IT OBER TO ME! I can help you... You got health care?"

The interview room made my face feel fat and my lips dry.
Holy crap man, Quasi needs a job. Quasi needs a job real bad. This is most definitely bonkers.

Applications are done... now I wait in agony.

It has been one painfully long process, but my graduate applications are done. I am waiting. I should hear back between February and late March/early April. In the meantime, I will be looking for a job.
I might not get into graduate school this year. If I do not... I will march into a Duane Reade and ask for a job application, go home, hold my fists up to the heavens, and yell, "WHYYYYYY?!" Then, after sobering up, I will go on Monster, Craig's List, and LionShare to look for something in market research or something with the word research in it because I know I can do stuff of that variety. Anyway, my stomach feels like crazytown because of either the breakfast meatball sub or the orange juice.

So I made a mistake... who else would have known?!

An e-corrigendum to in my previous post. The song "Allentown" by Billy Joel is in fact about Allentown, PA. Sorry. Good job, Allentown, the guy who wrote "Uptown Girl" gave you a dirty shout out, calling you failures... well, failures.

My Winter Holiday: a tale of magic and mystery

My winter holiday was of the utmost awesome.
I had booked my flight back to NYC from San Diego for the 29th, leaving me about a day before my next flight out to Prague. JetBlue decided that it would teach me a lesson on cutting things too close, so it canceled my flight back to New York, concealing its intentions with some lame excuse about snow or whatever.

Josh had to reroute me. In order to make it back in time, I would have to take a flight out to Allentown, PA with a different airline and have Josh rent a car to pick me up. Between San Diego and Allentown (why no, it is not the same Allentown that Billy Joel sung about in 1998, but it is the Allentown home of the 68th largest radio market in the USA!)--whatever, more like Allenhamlet--was a connection in Charlotte, NC... the strangest place on earth. From what I was able to assess during my layover, Charlotte carries two types of men: hot farm boys (well, who knows if they are actual farmers... they look like farmers because they all look like Chris Klein and didn't he play a farm boy on 2000's Here on Earth?) and LARPers.

Eventually, I made it back to New York in time and flew off to Prague.

Prague was great. However, in Zurich I was crowned King of Three Kings Day because I found a plastic king in my share of the Three Kings bread... and that was pretty awesome. I got to wear the paper crown and rule for the rest of the day (1.5 hours). With that taste of power still lingering on my improperly scraped tongue the next day, I decided that when I grow up I am going to become dictator. I will rule with an iron fist.

Okay, well, here is a picture of me with a swan: