  Again with the bleeeccchhh. Still sicky, still concerned about the Late Night Phone Call, and I feel as though I really ought to stay away from books I know will stir my righteous ire.
Right now, the literary culprit is "Stupid White Men" by Michael Moore, the duder that brought about the movies "Roger and Me" and "Bowling for Columbine". Moore is brilliant, pithy, and has me convinced the world is going to hell in a handbasket, with the US being the chief weight of said handbasket.
(Sorry Komnith, but your country is entirely un-sane) Passed out resumes today: Two bookstores, two restuarants, and a re-application for the Infamous Baker job. I managed to apply last time, but, alas, did not get hired. The job is open again, so again I trooped on in, gave them another copy of my resume, and now the waiting begins. There's a larger sized job I'm going to apply for tomorrow, that of Editorial Assistant. I'd be good at it, I'm sure, but I've not any experience in a publishing house.
But man, oh man, this is indeed something that is of Career status, so i'm not going to let silly underexperience stop me, oh no sirree. I entirely missed St. Pat's this year. Peculiar, usually i head somewhere to get the irish groove on, but this year i had no idea even what day it was. Best St. Pat's was two years ago, Pol, Hee Soo, and other assorted Canadians and Koreans boogied the night away at the James Joyce. Hee Soo got kissed, something the rest of us found hilarious, and Hee Soo found it, well, disturbing.
Especially since the kisser had questionable hyigene, and was a man about forty years Hee Soo's senior. Gratitude, we all discovered that evening, goes a long way. 
