Shu'up, I'm not a child!

Today I had an interview with a recruitment agency. It went pretty well, even though I forgot to bring my passport, and I was wearing really scruffy clothes in clashing colours. I've got to say- and this sounds so wank- the public/voluntary sector fucking LOVE my ass! Everything I said, the guy was like ooooh that's really impressive. He asked what kind of job I wanted. Instead of saying "don't know, don't care, going to uni in September" (which is the WRONG answer), I said some rubbish about being young and wanting to expand my knowledge base and (get this) diversify my CV. God, I am full of shit. But impressive sounding shit. He asked what I wanted to do career wise and I said that I wanted to work in international development, but not for 5-10 years as I wanted more experience/maturity etc. He nearly fell off his chair. "Oh my god!" he said. "No one ever says that! You're very mature, that's such a sensible move, I have so much respect for you, blah blah blah". I didn't mention my hair brained plan to work in corporate finance (I went on Goldman Sachs website the other day, shoot me now). In fact I made him laugh with my comments on the private sector "with their shiny floors and bottled water and money spent on pens". Ho bloody ho. Yeah, but where's my job?

I have a great skill of impressing people at recruitment agencies. And then NOTHING. The tumbleweed of the job market sets in. I didn't get the hedge fund job but I don't really mind all that much but I did buy a suit, y'know, and like, people saw me in it and were frankly very rude to me.

Although it may seem like I am in a belligerant mood today, I am just tired and I am drinking. Earlier I had a nap (albeit 30 secs or less) and now I am drinking at my desk. Yes, drinking at work. Get me. You wouldn't get that in the private sector. Then again, you wouldn't get such shit wine in the private sector either.

Some fucker has stolen my chair and I am having to sit on a chair with suspicious "chicken soup" stains. Can I have my one back please?

Anyway, I found out on Wednesday that I am a rubbish friend. Yesterday me, R and C went for a couple of pints (at £1.50 a pint, I think binge drinking is more than acceptable) and I realised that anyone looking at us would think that we were such stereotypical late-20s women, what with our talk of erectile dysfunction (R's ex - I hope one day he finds out that we all know) and house prices and anal sex. But C also said how her brother beat her up the other week, so it's not all sweetness and light. Hmm, more beer, a bus, home, made supper. #4 tried to spit on me (long story) and #1's ex (ie the one who went to Dubai (and America) and had/has OCD and she's sure he's gay anyway) talked to her on msn. Sadly enough, it actually turned out that he'd gone to the cinema by himself and was on his mobile, on msn. It is really depressing. But you have to laugh, really. Then I went to Camberwell where I paid £2.80 for a pint (of the same beer) and some guy was really rude to me, and then back to N's, where the remainder of the night involved teenage lesbian drama, some comedy moments I won't share with you, other stuff and sleep.

Fucking hell, re-reading that, my explanations astound me. I'm like top spec Jackanory (ish). I would recommend sunglasses for the next installment. I'm THAT dazzling.

This wine is making me feel sick. I am not, repeat NOT going to Nando's tonight. I am, however, going to go to the park tomorrow. I'd say going to the park - literally opposite my flat- once every three months is more than enough.

Shut up brain.