Professions.

I had a job interview today. And it was preceded by some of the worst days of my adult life. Not literally, but I have been way stressed out. I have smoked 3 cartons of Lucky Strikes in the past 48 hours. I don't really know where to begin, because this whole week has been a shit storm.
I guess it all started when I shaved my face. I feel like most traumatic stories should begin this way. The best way to ruin your life, is shave. I shaved on Thursday night so I wouldn't have to go through the trouble of hacking away three inch long hair at 7 am, and accidentally cut my throat then bleed out doing the least manly thing possible. I ran around showing off my mustache for a while since now that I am 22, it's finally a respectable mustache. Then I actually shaved with a razor. It was then that I saw that I had a very noticeable tan line from where my beard used to be. I also realized it's the first time my face has been beard-less since March. Needless to say; I panicked. I was trying to impress these people, and I officially looked more like a jackass than I ever have in my whole life. I didn't even look this bad when I got arrested for public urination.
So, I finally calmed myself down enough to lay in my bed and stare at my lava lamp for a few hours while the moon went down. Then got up at 7 am, and started what is now today. Last night I went to Wal-Mart and purchased myself a sweater. I wanted a sweater that looked like something that a dad would wear. Mostly cause I think it's funny. So I went and bought me a sweater that is much too big for me. Which seems like a contradiction. That would basically be a tent. Only a tent would be too big for me. My day officially started by me waking up with a One Direction song being played in my head. ONE DIRECTION. So I screamed as loud as my lungs could muster, and put on some sister raping, village burning metal to drown out the sound of 5 English butt touchers. So, After this I went to work and shotgunned a Rockstar to try and compose myself. The next few hours consisted of a constant stream of idiots making remarks about my naked face in a manner such as; "I BARELY RECOGNIZED YOUR STUPID IDIOT JERK FACE NOW THAT IT'S NAKED HAR HAR HAR HAR HAR!!" "LOOK AT YOU WITHOUT A BEARD!! IT'S LIKE SEEING A HELPLESS BABY SWIMMING IN CLOTHES THAT ARE TOO BIG FOR HIM! HAR HAR HAR HAR!!" And so on, in this manner. Well, my shift was coming to and end, and the interview was coming up. But it wasn't the end of the shit fest. This lady came into the store, and wanted me to mix some paint for her. So, I started doing so. However, she wanted a black colored paint mixed, which translates to; I want to make your life as miserable as possible. So, I begin doing it as fast as I can. However, I got a messed up can of paint, that was overfilled with the base. So, when I try to hammer on the lid, It is much too full. So, I take it outside, put a board on it, and hammer it closed and get paint all over outside. Then I take the can to a hose and begin washing it off. When I started doing so, The water came back, with paint, and sprayed me right in my stupid face. So now not only did I have a white tan line on my face, I also had paint all over it. I said some swear words really loud, washed my dumb face, and gave the lady her paint.
The interview itself wasn't that bad. I had to wait in line with a bunch of people who were much older than me, and made me feel even younger than I now looked. I officially felt like I should be playing bench for the 6th grade football team. I was actually happy to be there, because it helped me not be wound so tight. I was basically imploding for an entire week. It nearly killed me on multiple occasions.
I guess in retrospect to all of this, I have officially landed on a career. I am applying to be a stay at home dad. I am as bad as all the girls at BYU. They aren't looking to get a degree, they're looking for a husband to pay the bills. And I feel like if they can do it, I sure as shit can. When people ask me what my major is from now on, I am going to tell them "I don't have one. I am just looking to get married and start raising kids while my wife works." It sounds like a dream. Playing Lego's, beating the shit out of my kids in Nintendo and real life, watching General Hospital and drinking enough Diet Coke to shower the continent of Africa for 45 minutes a year. (Think about that. A nice Diet Coke rainfall. Sounds awful. I shouldn't be so mean to those spear chuckers..) Thus explaining further my purchase of "Dad clothes." So, if there are any takers on this, contact me directly. My ideal date includes me eating a lot, and not paying for any of it. So just plan on that. 5 nights a week.