Well guess what kiddies? Go on guess I’ll wait right here.
(That was a dumb guess.)
(You are so dumb.)
(You are really DUMB.)
I kid. I kid. If you didn’t get that Antoine Dodson reference click here. The truth is you had no chance at guessing right.
(No, Mr. Bond….I expect you to die.)
AnyGoldfinger the answer was that since I was wrong about my phone interview being today I have no excuse not to blog. No I won’t say what (or who) the job was.
(You can flutter your eyelashes all you want. I’m not saying.)
The point is since I was all #JimiFail on the date I had time to write a post and something happened yesterday gave me a story to tell too.
(Yes I did just use a hashtag up there.)
So without further delay….This is what happens when you deliver shit to our apartment. There I was sitting on the couch. I had my unfinished poem folder open on the computer. Kanye West was pumping in my speakers—A fact I shared only to up my street cred.
(I’m Harrd boy!)
Door buzzer: BUZZZZZZZZZZZZ
I knew the wifey had ordered a new couch cover and that it was due to arrive that day. I got up and grabbed my Nirvana hoodie. You see I got a package (That’s what she said!) yesterday and I was wearing the same exact thing. I was afraid that it would be FedEx and the lovely Margery who is usually the one who makes their deliveries for us.
(Truth be told her name isn’t Margery—or at least that I know of—I just thought that’d be an awesome name to use.)
(Also though nice enough I have no real reason to state she is lovely.)
(I just wanted you to understand how likely it is that women fall for me.)
(I’m dead sexy bitches!)
(Don’t make me gat you.)
AnyChannelingEminem it was UPS. As he came down the hallway he called out “Delivery for Remick.”
“Okay sign here for me.” He said handing me their little electronic thingy. “What’s your last name?”
“Remick.” I said handing him the electronic doo-dad and grabbing the package.
(Sexual harassment FTW!)
He stopped and looked at me skeptically—perhaps due to grabbing his Johnson—and cocked (haha) his head.
“You aren’t (looks at bill) Catherine Remick.”
“Is that so?”
(Beat. As he looks at me confused.)
“Have a good day.” I said as I closed the door.