Living with a Vampire: Part 3- The Bed

bed

As published in Uloop news.

The next day, one of my roommates who I had met in architecture school approached me about the vampire. She told me that she heard the vampire’s bed slowly, but steadily, squeaking all night long. They tried turning up some music to drown out the sound, but the noise was so loud that nothing would help. A day later, my other roommate from architecture mentioned the same thing. The noise just wouldn’t stop.

Eventually the vampire tried to drown out the noise that she was making all night by blasting Death Cab for Cutie. It didn’t help a thing and, if anything, she only sort of ruined a few of their songs for me. The noise continued for a few weeks, and then finally the noises at night ceased. The vampire decided to make these noises during the daytime. Continue reading “Living with a Vampire: Part 3- The Bed”

Shock Wave: Part 3- I’m Just A Writer

In Defense of Journalism

Catch up before you continue on with the story.

Cindy and I ended up pulling over and driving into a gas station for a pit stop shortly after she had informed me that she would tell me why she needed to go to Oregon. I took the keys completely out of the ignition and grabbed my wallet out of my purse leaving nothing truly valuable behind—or at least what I considered invaluable.

I stepped out of the car to run inside the little mini mart at the gas station and use the restroom, and on the way out I bought a couple bags of chips and two water bottles for the long journey north. When I did make it back to my car Cindy’s face was contorted in a way that made her seem incredibly mortified by my presence. Continue reading “Shock Wave: Part 3- I’m Just A Writer”

The Hollywood Intern: Part 3- The Gas Bill

Click here to start from the beginning.

One the second day of my second internship I left the office early to go to my job at the department store that I had way across town. I had to leave about an hour and half or so before my shift began to get there on time and so I raced out of the office, paid for my insanely expensive parking spot and drove like a bat out of hell to work.

It was hot, and I was sweaty because I couldn’t really afford to tack on air conditioning prices on to my already crazy high weekly gas bill, and all I had was the toasty shift of wind that whipped my face with the stench of highway pollution.

When I got to work, I rushed through the back doors and clocked into my scheduled shift. I threw my badge on and walked to the section of the store where I was assigned to. We did our start of the shift meeting and I started grabbing go-backs to squeeze on the clothing racks.

“Hey you guys, what’s up?” I said to the girls when our shift manager walked away.

“I’m going to need you to start working on all of these go-backs over here while I get these,” said one of my coworkers who believes she’s in charge of everything I do.

“Okay.”

“And I don’t want you to do anything else okay? I’m working on these. Ask me if you need any help.”

“Alright.” She kept rambling on and telling me what to do, and so I decided to just walk away while she was expelling her diarrhea-of-the-mouth all over my already stressed out mood. I hid in the clothes racks and goofed off for a while thinking to myself how I really never liked this job. Continue reading “The Hollywood Intern: Part 3- The Gas Bill”