So, yesterday, I'm feeling odd, but not in any sort of recognizable way. I head out for X-Files viewage. As the episodes go on, my nose begins to fill and things get disgusting. I pray that perhaps it will end and it doesn't. I grab Yoshinoya on the way home and die in front of the television for a few hours. When I go to bed, I take an entire jug of orange juice with me and suffer through the night. My throat burns and my lips crack because I have to keep breathing through my mouth or not at all.

I wake several times throughout the night and morning, either due to the aches, lack of air, or the need to piss.

My temperature goes up, but I'm not warm enough for much of the night.

At some point, I wake up sweating.

By 10am, I've gotten all the sleep I'm going to get. The rest is just rest; my mind replaying televisions and movies, re-displaying for me comic books I haven't read in years.

My alarm goes off at 1pm. I lay there for a bit, until the Foo Fighters drag me to the shower. I take my Braun to the stubble above my top lip; something I do whenever my nose is stuffed up to prevent tissues from shredding on my mustache.

The shower helps a lot. The steam lets me breathe and I feel somewhat like a human. I shave the rest of my face, because I have a job interview at 3:15 and I'm going to pretend to look like a human.

I stop at Sav-On to get some dope. Non-drowsy formula, so I don't die on my way to or from Burbank and so I can better tolerate the interview.

It doesn't help.

"We don't have a need for you at this time, but you're welcome to re-apply in 90 days."

Can't even get hired at a gig where I have experience. How pathetic is that?

Why it didn't occur to me that I needed to be some kind of dancing bear to outshine these young punks, I don't know. Maybe I thought my past experience spoke for itself. Maybe I thought I'd get a chance to actually talk about myself, instead of answering questions likes, "Tell us about yourself," and "What's something you've always wanted to do, but never have?"

How about, "Why should we hire your ass?"

That's a question I could have answered. Of course, thinking about it now, I could have just been aggressive and told them to to stuff their stupid questions and tell them exactly why they should hire me and not some wet-behind-the-ears piece of jail-bait.

Hm. Maybe I will re-apply in 90 days and do exactly that.

"Look, you may be a manager, but you can't speak for shit and you clearly don't know what you're doing up there, so let me tell you why you should give me this job and how I intend to eventually have your job."

Well, we'll see.

Tomorrow, I'll call Virgin and B&H. Maybe there's a prayer over there.

If not, I'm selling my body to California Clinical Trials on Wednesday.