I’m a 28-year-old, underemployed librarian.

I spend all of my time at home, waiting to be contacted about the various resumes and cover letters I’ve sent out, doing odd jobs for a very benevolent former professor of mine.

I watch a lot of cooking shows, drink a lot of tea, listen to a lot of NPR, and spend a lot of time fighting with people about politics on the internet.

This morning, at 11:30 a.m., I was sitting here in my pajamas*, trying to convince myself that I’m not an enormous failure, when my upstairs neighbor starting blasting “Kung-Fu Fighting.”

Kung. Fu. Fighting. Followed by “Africa.”

I promptly abandoned my chair, took a shower, got dressed, and decided I have to leave the house, to go somewhere, anywhere, as, given the introduction of absurd 80’s pop kitsch, I assume I’m probably about an hour away from making a comically long phone call to a phone psychic and trying to live on a gas station credit card. Buying Ethan Hawke’s unbelievable line of bullshit couldn’t be that far behind.

 

* Yeah, you read that right. Wanna make something of it?