Monday, June 20, 2011

♫...na-na, Why don't you get a job?...♫

INT. RUBY'S BEDROOM -NIGHT

Three of the four walls are painted light blue, the remaining wall is painted TARDIS blue. The bed, a mattress and box spring, is pushed against the wall. The sheets on the bed match the darker blue. Several pillows are thrown haphazardly all over the bed. In the middle of the bed rests ASLAN, a long fluffy orange cat. He is stretched out across the bed and is very long. One of his paws rests on a green leather binder. The inscription reads:
University of Alabama at Birmingham
Birmingham, Alabama

RUBY LEBEAU sits at a small black, wooden desk that is pushed up against the other side of the bed. RUBY looks tired and defeated. Her dark hair is a mess, as if she had been running her fingers through it in frustration. There are dark circles under her stunning green eyes. 

RUBY sneezes.

RUBY is slumped over the desk. One hand rests against her cheek and the other is permanently affixed the the computer mouse. 

ON THE MONITOR

We see a Google Chrome internet browser. The open page displays a Job Vacancy website. We also see five other tabs open, all displaying various Employment services.

BACK TO RUBY

We watch as her face continues to drop and the light fades from her eyes. She is utterly without hope. Slowly, blood starts to seep from her eyes and nose. As it runs down her face, her eyes roll back in her head and her face comes crashing down onto the desk.

THE END

So that's how the job hunt is going. I'm thinking that becoming a middle class call girl is not such a bad idea.
It's frustrating...and if I'm not careful I end up getting extremely forlorn and develop the overwhelming urge to wander the moors shouting for Cathy or Heathcliff or a cheeseburger. 
Even though this little redneck town doesn't have any moors...but wandering I-65 shouting for a job just doesn't have the same melancholy effect that the Wuthering Heights imagery does. It rather has the undeniable symptoms of a nervous breakdown written all over it.
...and we simply cannot have that.

To keep myself from doing this...or doing a spectacular imitation of Virginia Woolf or Sylvia Plath...I pretend I'm River Song:


...and if that doesn't work I get on the Bowflex and then the treadmill.
I've lost 16lbs so far....if that tells you anything.
So now I'm going to say ciao...because my life has become so dull that watching grass grow seems like THE MOST EXCITING THING EVER!!!! in comparison. I'm off to wander the moors cursing my lost love to an unpleasant afterlife...or to stick my head in our stove...though it's electric and not gas so I'm not exactly sure how that's going to go...
I leave you with this thought:


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