Recreational Slumming*

*title is a neo-logism that as good as any other I can remember and I'm too lazy to look for another one, to describe my Thursday evening---not saying anything particularly about anything so you know. not that you were wondering


Last night, as one person made popcorn. I was standing by the steps of the second story apartment porch drinking a Killians and smoking an off brand cigarette discussing something obscure. Someone on the other end of a cell phone was shopping for music.
We're the office temps. The artists/writers. The waitress/bartenders. We even have character type names. Welcome to my life as a generational cliche. Generation X. Over-educated, under-employed, thoughtful types with impressive record collections.
Awesome.

I've got one of three essays for my take home final done.
WOOT.
Only one book review, one final, a rough draft 8 hours of internship and that damn grant class to go. I'll have all but the grant class done by the time I walk across that stupid stage in that damn ceremony this time next week.
I'm not going to wear shoes.
That's as subversive as I'll probably get.
What with the work I still need to do.
Stupid bad planning ruining all my evil deeds.
Mostly.