One Does Not Simply Get an Internship

Yesterday I had to walk a mile and a half with cold mashed potatoes in my shoes. No, I have not pledged to some sort of strange fraternity or sorority or whatever. It's just another side effect of my lovely job. 

My paycheck is another side effect, but that one is one I actually, you know, like. 

So here's what happened. I was just chilling, doing my thing and putting dishes back. Then, some puny little high schooler tripped and dropped a plate of mashed potatoes on my shoes. 

I would just like to ask...

Why do you have an entire plate of mashed potatoes??? Are you a hobbit or something? An Irishman in the 1800s? An Irish hobbit? No one likes potatoes that much. They're awful and starchy and the ones at my work are not made from real potatoes, they're made from awkward potato flakes that come in a big box. 

The worst part was what the kid said afterwards. He just looked at me and went, "looks like you got potatoed." 

Potato is not a verb. It is not even sort of a verb. YOU CAN'T JUST MAKE UP WORDS LIKE THAT. SOCIETY HAS RULES FOR A REASON AND ONE OF THOSE RULES IS THAT YOU DON'T JUST MAKE UP WORDS LIKE THAT!!!!

It isn't a verb. 

I, he, she, we potato. 

Just...no. 

The worst part was walking home. I am too stubborn to take buses. I am too stubborn to accept rides. It's a character flaw. I'll admit it. 

And it led to me walking in squishy mashed potato shoes. Ugh. It was horrid. 

Speaking of things that are horrid...I have to talk to my internship coordinator this week. Here's the thing...I don't want to coordinate an internship. Last time I interned, I ended up hiding in a warehouse, stalking a hot boy and being renamed Jennifer. 

It was a weird time in my life. 

But, no. They're going to ask me what I want to do with my life. I don't know. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Um...finish my degree? I guess? I'm not actually all that interested in it? 

Yeah, this is going to go really well. 

And by really well, I mean I'm probably going to get yelled at. I hate getting yelled at. For whatever reason, people just seem to like yelling at me though. Do I just have one of those faces? One of those faces that you just want to yell at?

Ugh. I really don't know what to do here. My life is stupid and college is stupid and internships are stupid and I really don't want to sell lawn mowers again. 

I was so bad at it. 

I built a fort, hid in the warehouse and played games on my iphone. I did a terrible job. I can admit that. That's something I can admit now. I was the intern from hell or at least somewhere hell-adjacent. 

I don't want to inflict myself on anyone. 

I also don't want to leave my apartment. I like my apartment. There are waffles there and tea that I ordered from teavana and my best friend/xbox. 

Anyway, moving on from all of that bound-to-be-unpleasantness...more unpleasantness! 

There is supposed to be some sort of all-the-snow storm tonight. While I'm at work. And, because of my aforementioned refusal to take the bus or accept rides, I'm going to have to trek home in that. I DON'T WANT TO. I REALLY DON'T WANT TO. Also, I forgot my hat so my unnaturally small ears will be sad and cold. And sad. 

You know, once winter is over, I am going to have literally nothing to complain about. 

I should go. 

The snow awaits.