Friday, August 14, 2009

Yay, Crazies!

Ohai.

It’s 3:30am and I’m still working. I haven’t left my apartment once since Saturday and now it’s Friday morning. Not once, except to go for a quick run on Tuesday. In the dark. Alone. Because I’m a gremlin now.

That’s almost an entire week. Wow. Ok.

I just finished my first article on food allergies. Now I have to write the second one. Like, right now. Starting at 3:30am. And it’s a full-length feature. Awesome possum.

It’s not entirely my fault. I only got my last interview at 10:00pm tonight. The thing about journalism is that much of it is out of your control, and most people do not answer their goddamn phones or check their emails or are of ANY USE TO ME.

So, my deadline is noon. I can squeeze in a few hours of sleep, but I don’t trust myself to sleep first and write later. I’ll wind up waking up at 4pm in a sweaty pile of sheets and then use them to hang myself.

Ok. That was graphic.

I’ve had a lot of work over the past week. I managed to juggle my 3 internships for most of the summer, but they all took a simultaneous dump on me 7 days ago. After I finish these articles I have 40 poorly written pieces to edit for the magazine I work at. It takes me over an hour just to do one, mostly because people do not know how to use basic grammar or write a clear sentence or are of ANY USE TO ME. Also, my bad for forgetting about the magazine internship when I booked my Portugal trip, because the magazine goes to print on the 24th and I fly out of the country on the 21st. Oops. Shorry. Maybe if they paid me I would have a better memory.

Other highlights from working 3 simultaneous internships from home:

- Not a single clean mug or cup or knife in the entire house. This is because all I live off of is coffee (mug), gin (cup), and peanut butter on toast (knife). Today I realized the bread had mould, so I guess I’ll be eating the pb straight from the jar (spoon/spatula/IV needle). Made tea at midnight. Drank it out of a bowl.

- Not a single clean article of clothing in the entire house. I have actually worn my entire collection of old lady underwear, long after the sexy thongs and then the non-sexy thongs ran out. Tomorrow I may have to fashion some kind of loin cloth out of dental floss and paper towels. Wait, I’m out of paper towels. Fuck it, I’m wearing a bed sheet.

- The cat might be dead.

- Last night I ordered in poutine for dinner at 11:00 pm. And a can of orange crush.

- TheAmazon is in Mexico for work. I just sent her a text message at 3am and all it said was “You’re a Mexicunt.”

- Anyone I interview comments on how upbeat I am. Any family member or friend who calls me asks if I’m perched on the ledge of my balcony, contemplating swift death.

- My grandpa called while I was on a caffeine high and now I have to spend my Saturday driving to a winery with him. It’s 2 hours away. Oh fun.

- Oh hey, there’s the cat. How long has he been passed out on the floor behind a tv tray? I just poked him. Definitely alive.

Ok. So, anyone who thinks being a freelance journalist is the bestest job in life (*coughTheQuack) should no longer have any illusions. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. I HAVE THE CRAZY EYES.

I can't lie. I still love it. But oh fuck this bitch is tired and needs a vegetable and some fresh air. Maybe some human contact. Maybe some internet television. Heroes is fun. So is How I Met Your Mother.

Oh my god it’s 4am.

This is the state in which I will be writing a national instructional article on anaphylactic shock. The magic of journalism, bitches.

ThePeach

1 comment:

quackattack said...

Nice try ... I STILL want to be you when I grow up! ;)