F you, Pinkberry

So I haven't been keeping up with this thing. My time is mostly spent searching for jobs on mediabistro, journalismjobs.com, monster (which is usually disappointing), and Craigslist when I realize that I need to expand the job search to mediocre jobs that include a Pinkberry employee (I'm pretty sure I would be the most disgruntled, bitter employee in their history...they still haven't gotten back to me), a photographer's assistant (a random dude who asked me to go to his home studio in the valley for an interview...sketchy), and a sales associate at a thrift store. Each day I am gradually losing the feeling of entitlement that I gained from four years at Johns Hopkins. I even got rejected by a soccer mom who needed a chauffeur for her kids after school (apparently it would not be economically worthwhile to take the job if I don't live in Santa Monica).

So when I'm not applying to jobs, walking the dogs, or cooking dinner, I figure I should do some volunteer work. You know, give back. Of course, when it involves free labor, I always get a call back for an interview. Go figure. But I am actually excited to volunteer at the LAGLC. And who knows, maybe it will open some doors.

My brother (who I am living with for the moment) told me a few days ago that I need a job by the end of the month so I can get the hell out of his place. I feel so welcome. Don't my amazing cooking skills vaguely substitute any sort of rent that I could be paying? I guess not. It's not like I really dig living in a tiny room where the door doesn't close all the way. Not an optimum situation for love connections. Maybe I should have chosen New York. Sigh.