Today was, in a word, huge. I had an interview in NYC for an internship. I've wanted to work there ever since I've known it existed and I would give Kevin Federline custody of my children if that what it takes to work there. I met my idol without having a panic attack. My palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms were heavy, vomit on my sweater already--mom's spaghetti (Sorry, sometimes I break out into Eminem). Actually, my palms were only slightly damp and I don't think my shaking was too visible. I think it went well; even if they don't take me, it was a good experience and I got to meet some really awesome people.
Anywho, I got on the train back to the Dirty Jerz to conduct a couple of interviews of my own. The man behind me was coughing up some sort of disgusting, so after Secaucus I had to move. I got to the office, did my thing, then got in the car to drive Dreads home. Lil D came running up to me as I was pulling out of the parking lot with tears pouring down her face and paperwork in her hands. New Brunswick Parking Authority aka Satan put a boot on her car (seriously P Francis, if I ever meet you face to face you will pay for that ticket you gave me when I was in my driveway with the hazards on...you will pay). Turns out, she had 14 outstanding tickets. Granted, I am not one to talk. But my tickets are at least on the single digits side of town. Anyway, talk about lesson learned. Before she can get the boot removed she has to pay all of the tickets, plus a $50 boot removal fee. If you've never understood the concept of adding insult to injury, herein lies a perfect example.
To help Lil D out, I called the number listed, and then the number that the recording I reached told me to call. Whoever picked up had some sort of crush on my voice, so I milked it for all it was worth. I got pretty serious with his supervisor, not even gonna lie. I wound up going to NBPA (lucky for P Francis s/he wasn't there) to take care of everything in person. The man I talked to on the phone was so happy to meet me and took me directly to the person who deals with boot removal. I pretended to be Lil D. I think I got it down, except for the "lil" part seeing as I am approximately a person larger than she is.
I argued, I plead, I cried, I begged. The boot is still on, but I convinced him to release the boot tomorrow even though they don't usually do weekend releases. It worked out well, because I said everything Lil D said without getting emotional.
Currently, I am exhausted and feel the pangs of sinus pressure welcoming a winter cold. Awesome.
Next time: bar fights and prostitutes.
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