I kind of feel like Montreal's become a convection oven. Even my sweat? Is sweating. I tried to do some statistics homework last night. It's an assignment that counts, sadly, as I'm sure it doesn't make any sense at all. Stats homework in the middle of a heat wave? New torture in Hades, yo. I also choked down some Forster for my 20th Century Lit class. I'm not a big fan of Forster- his philosophy seems so fuzzy, like he's trying to articulate something that he just can't reach. And his characters could succinctly be described as nutbars. But I get to read Mrs. Dalloway next, which is... better.
The job situation is also wilting in the heat. I am, by nature, incredibly shy when it comes to handing in my résumé, which means that I manage to hit one or two stores before scurrying off to home. Yesterday, I tried a card place in the mall, in spite of my horrific availability. I was foiled in my attempts to scuttle away so they could interrogate me on my hours. Then they asked me why I wanted to work in a card shop. After babbling something about how it looked like fun (lie!) and then something incoherent about how people are usually buying cards for happy occasions, but sometimes they are buying cards for sad occasions, and it would be nice to help people (you're doing it wrong, brain!), I then proceeded to spit out the lamest thing in the history of lameness: "Cards... bring people together."
Gah, well, if I can't get a job working at a card shop I could probably get a job writing them. The person interviewing me then complained that men were the worst interviews, because they always say something like "Derrr, 'cause I need a job." I didn't tell her that I admired the honesty of boys in this instance. Today I'm hitting up at least three cafés, and if all else fails, I'll become the most practically dressed hooker in history.
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