I am failure.

My skirt an inch too high, my makeup an inch too thick: I was flippin' ready for this interview. The interview was for a teaching position at a private school.

Confident in my skills and impressed by my bubbly-yet-authoritative demeanor, they decided to hire me. 
I walked toward the subway, fantasizing about my new position. I was determined to become an obeyed martinet. I wanted to educate with an iron fist and produce winners! WINNERS!
...but much to my ignorance at the time, imminent misfortune was looming ahead...
As some of you may know, it is February. "Yes, we know, but what does that mean?" some of you might ask. Well, February is the start of a sacred time, a time of paradox, betrayal, surprise, self-deprecation, and mental haywire. Prepare the pyrotechnics... graduate school admissions will be announced starting now and into early April! Forget My People's New Years, Valentine's Day, and the Super Bowl, this is something greater than all of that combined. This time of the year is comparable to an apocalypse.
Well, apocalypse cometh. About an hour after employment, I received a personal email detailing the process that led up to my ultimate rejection from my first choice.

I did not take it very well. One down eleven more to hear from.
Josh, Kyle, Kyle's friend, and I went out to a fancy-pants dinner that night at One if by Land Two if by Sea. I might have been tipsy and took it out on Josh.

Sorry, dude.