I just had a phone interview for an internship, and it was going pretty well, I guess, until the woman asked me who my favorite artist was. It changes frequently, so I told her I had recently been listening to Rancid a lot. She then asked me what I would do if I saw Tim Armstrong, who plays guitar and sings for Rancid, and I said "I'd probably soil myself."
I've never felt a longer pause in my entire life.
My thoughts were racing; "Shit, was that the wrong thing to say? Is that not cool? Too vulgar? Fuck, now what? How do I salvage this? Should I offer her money? Sex? Should I offer to pay her money for sex? No, that's prostitution; the implications would not be flattering. Well, I may as well kill myself now."
Just as I began to pull the trigger, she started to laugh. The small chuckle turned into a loud, full-on-riot-laugh.
Crisis Averted!
And later this week, I'll be paying her money for sex!
Monday, May 12, 2008
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