Beep Beep. Sun’s up 9:32. Ugh. Going to hit snooze button—where is snooze button? Let’s just palm entire alarm clock and see what happens. Beeeeeep. 9:41. Was that really nine minutes? Nine minute siesta did nothing for general outlook. Oh my god there is this naked dude in futon next to me. Why is he making that face is he waking up oh no is he smiling at me—stop smiling at me! Pressed for time. Go to sleep. You didn’t notice me: no. Are you pulling me in for a kiss, oh man, paws off I’m in big hurry. Okay I kissed you now fall asleep. Need to figure out what happened last night. Will do later must go now.

Crawling over this naked dude is real stretch. Balancing on my left leg and arm. Oh, there we go. Standing up. Oops—where’s my underwear? Thought it was on whole night—but lo! Not on the floor. Maybe on the—nope. Is it under futon? Can’t collapse futon thanks to naked smiley dude. Whatever don’t want to search too late really important people can’t stop for underwear.

We’ll go commando then. Me and the bits. What the interviewer doesn’t know…

Fuck it walking through FitzRandolph Gate feeling irreverent no time for superstitions when barely scrubbed face with pocket tissue. Orange hand flashing on other side of crosswalk fuck it will I make it in time yes old lady inching across with walker. Will sufficiently hold up cars. Thank god for slowpoke. Heh. Old lady helps me cross street I don’t help her. Reverse Boy Scout! Big rush. Remember to laugh at this later. Approaching Small World Coffee long strides so much air space inside trousers. All my junk jangling around. Lady walking corgis has no idea! Just smiled at me so did corgis. Smile back as I open Small World door oh—it’s a push door even says it on glass how stupid I can be sometimes gosh moments like these make wonder how accepted to Princeton bet Rider kids can even push door correct way.

At least will make Hilarious Story later. Potential to amuse suitemates. Shit. Woman in pantsuit waving – think she saw me pull door is that my interviewer? Hilarious Story suddenly more tragic.

Optimism! Shake interviewer’s hand with confidence as if I know where my hand has been and am owning it. Truth is last night hand all over smiley dude and conversely smiley dude all over hand? All too likely. Woman looks much more overweight standing up. Still chubby when sitting but severely hefty when upright. Good she sat down again. Can’t look at butt and thighs. Is my professional fate really in the hands of Little Debbie? Interviewer asks if I want coffee I say don’t drink caffeine why did I say that? Biggest lie I will tell. Actually no. Watercolor of horse wading in shallow pond hangs on opposite wall.

Horse is peaceful and all but like really $375?

Interviewer asks me to tell her about self but is like staring right at my resume. Gotta say something off the paper say I like ethnic cooking? Tell her I made Pad Thai once. With plethora of Thai friends. She smiles at this she’s eating it up! But like what doesn’t she eat? Okay that was stupid. Force back chuckle.

Now woman gets all, Why do you want to work for Children’s Dramatic Arts Program? I tell her because the only thing I like more than dramatic arts is children? Want to be child actor when graduate? Miss bygone boyhood despite memories of bitter, screaming divorce in which mom pelted dad with teacups?  Instead rant about my background in mask-making. Really only did it once as camp counselor but who needs to know? Not her. Answer received swimmingly. Lady says kids love masks—like I don’t know that! Refrain from implying perhaps kids hate own faces. Lady assumes I used plaster molds when actually used paper plates and glitter glue? Do not correct. Play along like yeah only thing more fun than making masks is spending the nine-to-five covering kids’ faces in plaster strips! And then using child artworks as storyline for original dramatic production! Always a unicorn in every plot. If too many unicorns start killing off in first act.

Little Debbie seems totally impressed with my credentials since she’s still smiling and hasn’t even asked my quintile! Who said need above 3.5 to play with kids? Not this woman. Now she’s talking about super cute outdoor amphitheater built from logs and something about puppeteering? No money in that. But I sit and smile and nod and I think classic smile-and-nod-routine we all know we’ve done it sometime, admit it, at least once.

My balls are sticking to my thigh and I totally think I’m hired because a half hour went by like nothing at all, like me and Little Debbie were soul-mates or mildly compatible in past life, and she says it was a pleasure and expect a call in the next few weeks. And I’m like yeah cool but how do I not smell like vodka right now and suddenly I can feel all the plaque on my teeth. I rub it with my tongue as she asks Any more questions? And I want to say uh yeah, what kind of car do you drive but instead I point to horse painting.

How much worth? I wonder.

If you had to guess, how much would you estimate that painting cost?  I say.

Add comment to list of immediate regrets.

She laughs but doesn’t answer and might not understand joking so I just shake her hand and say goodbye. Fuck. Might have ruined job chance. Probably did not because so personable. Head out door and goddamn, push door is pull from inside and woman saw me fuck up twice. I’m like literally only person makes this mistake. Still can’t believe got into Princeton. Hope smiley dude deserted futon. Hope didn’t steal underwear to indulge perversion. Hope has no perversions. Need to call mother because love her. For valedictorian can sometimes be such doofus.