I’ve got to get a job. I don’t care about the application from, I’ll just put a bunch of crap on it, I’m good at making stuff up. I’ll apply to work at the Thrift Store, the Donut place (overnights – I might as well get paid to stay up all night) and the discount movie theater at the mall.
I bought a couple of $1 and $2 shirts from the Thrift Store, just to change things up with my jeans (Morgan’s jeans, which I no longer intend to return), and a pack of discount underwear at Walmart (supermarket), so now I’m officially broke again. Hence the need for said “job”.
Morgan’s been looking at me. I mean like “side glances” from his desk or in the hall. I’m not sure why. Maybe he feels bad for kicking me out back onto the street last night. Maybe he thinks I’m all wild and dangerous because I’m homeless, and he should keep FAR away from me (and yet he can’t help but look). I’m just glad he hasn’t gotten all self-righteous on me and called the cops or some social services agency.
Looks like lunch break is over, way over, so I’m kinda late for class… NO SCHOOL TOMORROW! BOOOYA!