So yeah, I mustered my meager troops to invade central campus and apply for the loan of money that is rightfully ours, which we may or may not use, but will most certainly have to pay back in 3 equal installments from Nov. through Jan.
I fear my spite might take me so far as TJ Maxx, where it will suddenly realize it requires more angry black and red clothing with which to adorn me for the fall and winter months, not to mention more deliciously pointy shoes in which to click madly down the halls. But then where will I be?
Well. Perhaps this is where today�s daydream comes in�I think I shall investigate law school. Perhaps I�ll take the way things have shaken out as a sign and make something of it. Intellectual property can be my bag, because lawn mower repair is not in the cards. Of this I am certain.
Ah, well, I see there�s a big brouhaha a-brewin� online regarding a new dress code for DJ/dance nights at the big club here in town. Sure, it smacks of profiling, but in light of recent events in the downtown scene (firing the entire staff of a bar because they were having problems with a cash drawer when they were without a manager, since the manager quit when the owner punched him), I�m not surprised. It�s an incestuous business, owning a bar downtown. Thank god for the independence of the mother ship. Maybe I�m not mustering righteous anger simply because I believe the DJ/dancing nights there to be the worst thing to ever happen to downtown. It�s a lovely club, and touring bands never fail to mention how grateful we should be of such a marvelous space. But it�s the DJ/dance crap that brings in the scantily clad bimbos and frat boys there to get loaded and hook up, and hence more dough than most band nights, so you can guess where their priorities are.
That said, I�m off to happy hour at yet another bar owned by the same people, where I will be ignored by the seemingly beautiful wait staff.