My Inner Sitcom

I don't watch sitcoms... don't own a T.V.. But sometimes it does seem like there is an inner need for silliness that without a proscribed outlet (such as T.V.) life will mimic absurdity at the most inconvenient of times. *sigh* Like the other day.

I'd a couple of job interviews lined up. The first challenge besides getting out the door was finding the place. Okay I should've used google but I thought I knew where it was in my scribbled on one page notes kind of way. But it was on WEST Exchange St.. Not Exchange Street. I went to Exchange St downtown... WEST Exchange St is a few blocks away... does not touch Exchange St, nor does it run parallel or perpendicular to it. I found it by asking a couple, a court official, at the post office on Exchange St. and then a limo driver (who was on an unlabeled unsigned WEST Exchange St when I asked him.) By running I arrived only 5 minutes late to an empty office.

The day proceeded from there. Honest, I need to win the lottery.

And the next interview was one of those times when you've forgotten the tape recorder you didn't know you needed because nobody in their right mind would believe the slush being uttered by, well, me. I need a fall back joke list like any struggling comedian in front of a reasonably intelligent mildly judgemental audience who finds you less interesting than road kill. *I do prefer to laugh than to cry even if I'm the only one in the room doing it.*

Now to follow my logic which may, actually, make more sense than New England roads... if I owned a T.V. I'd have a job! Yikes!