This past summer I took two trips to NYC.
The first was for an interview / day in the city.
The second was for a week-long freelance job
Get over it.
The first time I was all hot (it was like, 1000 degrees outside)
and nervous for my interview. I felt very out of place and
oh-hey-check-out-what-got-brought-in-on-the-cattle-truck
and country bumpkinny... not to mention very underdressed.
And then, I got a week-long stint as a freelancer ...
yeah, I'm still bragging. I know, get over yourself, right?
Nope. I'm good ... still basking, glowing ...
Oh, hi. Back to the point.
So, then I went back, and that's where the love
story begins. This small (and I do mean small)
girl from Maine became infatuated with a loud,
hurried, stinky, and psychotic city.
And I mean that as a compliment. If you gave me
a job there right NOW I'd say "OK" and throw clothes,
my Mac, and the September issue of Vogue in a bag.
And some hair gel ... I have some serious curly
poodle hair that can scare the hair off a cat in
the AM. Point being, I'd go.
Oh, hi. Back to the point.
So, then I went back, and that's where the love
story begins. This small (and I do mean small)
girl from Maine became infatuated with a loud,
hurried, stinky, and psychotic city.
And I mean that as a compliment. If you gave me
a job there right NOW I'd say "OK" and throw clothes,
my Mac, and the September issue of Vogue in a bag.
And some hair gel ... I have some serious curly
poodle hair that can scare the hair off a cat in
the AM. Point being, I'd go.
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