The horror, THE HORROR

Not only can I not quit my job, I can't seem to get fired, either. I've been really late. I've come without ironing my shirt. I've called in with ridiculous excuses as to why I won't be able to come to work. I've eaten a hot fudge sundae in the middle of the dinner rush in front of all the customers. And STILL management won't fire me!!

Because of the miniscule pay I receive, I've taken an additional job. However, this is a job that was meant for me. At an exclusive sports club in Beverly Hills, I am the concierge. I greet the rich and fabulous before and after their work outs. Basically I stand around and smile and watch the collagen flow in and out of the gym. I'm also blessed with a free membership to this hot spot.

In what little free time I have remaining (aside from my God-send acting classes), I'm looking for a job to replace my first one. Any job. Even in (gulp) West Hollywood, home of the bitchiest men on the planet.

You can call that last comment ironic if you'd like. However, if you were an underpaid bus boy in the outskirts of Encino, you'd be in one bitch of a mood, too.