Well as I've said some times before, if I needed proof of my life's weirdness… well life never fails to provide it.

I sat down with my boss yesterday to be told that they no longer have the budget to keep me on staff full-time. This wasn't unexpected, what with the firing of the other gay guy and all, along with how I know they're making no money at all, but all the same I was taking a little aback.

So they said they wanted to keep me on part-time. However, unfortunately, their idea of part-time is my idea of unreasonable and I said no. We're not even talking of half a salary pay-cut, we're talking something like ten hours a week. That's not even worth me getting up for, especially as I work nine hours a day. So I told them no. I'm staying until the end of the month. Then, once again, I'm out of a job unless I come up with something else first.

So, not to be downtrodden, I revamped my resume and went to searching. I found an ad. It was weird. So weird, in fact, that I elected to PDF it and post it online for all of you to read. Read it, then come back here.

So I read that ad and it reminded me of my current boss. Not the Chinese one, the bizarre aggravating gay one. So I figured what the hell, I'll send an email.

I decided to stay home today. Chinese boss gave me a cold plus they fired me so really, what've I got to lose? Being fired… twice?

Lucky for me, I got a call from the guy's vacating assistant, wanting to set up an interview. So I went today at 5 PM to visit him at his apartment in Chelsea. The place I was supposed to go in particular was apartment 17A, however when I got to the 17th floor there was no A… Confused, I called the number for his office.

"Hi, I have a 5 PM appointment and I'm having trouble finding–"

"Oh, right, you're with me," says a voice behind me. I turn around to see some 5'4 twinkie kid standing in the hallway. My immediate thought is, since it was obvious from the guy's ad and Chelsea location that he's homosexual, he likes to hire twinkie boys. Uh oh. So I follow him into this huge office. I mean huge. A mahogany desk the length of my kitchen set, two widescreen, flat-screen, wall-mounted television sets, a row of leather seats; it was the epitome of rich executive.

The kid sat on the other side of the desk.

My jaw must've been on the floor somewhere because he said, "Yeah, I get that a lot."

"How old are you?" I ask bluntly. 22. Twenty-two. A year and a half older than me.

That, however, isn't even the aforementioned proof of weird.

Throughout the interview I noticed that he looked very familiar, but I couldn't place his face. I was barely paying attention, just trying to place who he was. He turned to me at some point and said, "You know, you look oddly familiar somehow." And then it hit me. I slept with him somewhere in the barrage of gay boys I slept with when I first moved to NYC.

[20:22] brian: well what's his name?
[20:23] mixvio: you know I doubt I knew then and I don't remember now.
[20:23] brian: slut

That should say it all.

Entry last modified: July 2, 2007 at 2:28 pm.

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