While returning home from a trip to the college, to fill out paperwork and collect my belongings, my Step-Dad (who’s helping me with this depressing maneuver) decides to take a pit stop at a popular local sporting goods shop.

We found ourselves quickly wandering into the firearms section of the store and I noticed a major ideological rift between him and I.

He’s all like: “Barrels, caliber, magnum, blah, blah, blah.”

And I’m like: “Hey! This is the rifle that Max Brooks said would be good fighting zombies with!”, and “Is that a ‘Walther PPK? That is James Bond’s gun!”

It’s good to know that even in the worst of times I am still nerdcore.

Remember that interview I had on the 13^th? Well…I missed it.

A whole hour before I was supposed even show up I decided that I should get some food and eat it in the parking lot. I ran inside the local Burger King and ordered a classic chicken sandwich with just ketchup, cheese, and bacon (a remnant of the 2 months I worked as a Burger slave) to go, and I rushed back out to the car. Unfortunately, after a quick survey of the area I quickly realized that my keys were not in my pocket where they belonged…they were in the passenger’s side seat.

After a minute or two of artful cursing and maybe a little crying (I’ll never tell.) I spent the rest of my day hiking the handful of miles to my Dad’s place and making frantic phone calls.

The next day, after a lot moaning about how the universe has let me down, I was lucky to get a call back and was shown mercy in the form of a rescheduled interview: Monday at 3.

If I get this job I am going to, as the kids say, “make it rain”.