Oops, I Slept With My Intern!
I screwed another one of my interns. No wonder I can’t keep them around for very long. It’s awkward to ask someone to organize your external hard drive after you’ve had their genitals in your mouth. That’s just a fact.
If you remember, a few years back I had that goofy teenage boy intern, Stan, who I met at my local supermarket and who ended up briefly moving into the squat I lived in in London. When we met he was living in a depressing, one-bedroom council flat with his grandmother, and I said he could crash with us on account that he did random things for me for free whenever I asked him to — update my blog when I was too drunk to type, organize my underwear drawer, act as my human foot stool, insert my tampons, etc. It was cool for a while, but then I ended up half sleeping with him — or more like quarter sleeping with him, really (I never properly finished anything back then as I was always on so much ketamine) — and then everything went to shit. But then even after he stopped working for me I never kicked him out, because I’m too nice, and so he just stayed around and went on to sleep with practically everyone else we lived with, both male and female. The dirty little whore. (Keep in mind that there were 12 us of living there and we didn’t have a shower.) So he essentially became our squat’s personal, teenage sex slave. But whatever, that’s another story. And one I’ve already told.
My new intern has been working for me for about a month. She recently graduated from NYU, after which she emailed me saying that she would love to help me out in any way possible, noting that she was looking for a fun way to fill her free time before attending grad school at Harvard. At first I rejected her, as she is obviously under-qualified for the job. However after she begged me (and showed up for our first meeting covered in bruises left by a fuck-buddy who likes to bite her), I gave in and said OK.
The intern is an extremely upbeat, busty 22-year-old with the sort of long beachy hair and bright white American smile that makes it painfully obvious she grew up in California. She talks really loud and fast, most of the time about her future goal to create a cosmetics line free of unsafe ingredients, that doesn’t test on animals, and that contains some sort of nut butter that will benefit the economy of various poor areas of Africa. Or something. Sometimes when she’s talking I think, “Wow, she’s such a good person, I wish I cared more about Africa or whatever.” But then like five seconds later she’ll start rambling about how she recently puked on someone at a rave and I’ll think, “Actually never mind, you’re just as disgusting as everyone else.”
I like her a lot and we’ve become good friends, but to be honest she doesn’t even do that much work for me because since she only graduated a month or so ago she’s always too busy partying to care about transcribing my stupid interviews. Normally our text convos go something like this: “Hey Intern, I have an interview with an adult baby for you to transcribe,” and then four hours later she’ll say, “Sure, no problem! I have plans for the next eight straight days but I can totally do it afterward,” after which I just give up and do it myself. But then last week when I texted her “Hey Intern, your assignment for this week is to help me fuck my boyfriend,” she immediately replied “OMG sounds AMAZING! When? I’m totally availz whenever!” to which I responded “You’re an insane whore,” followed by, “No offense! That’s why I hired you, duh!” to which she replied, “OMG obvs NBD!”
The threesome was a going away present for my boyfriend who just a few days ago moved away to Boston for the entire summer to study some complicated science stuff at Harvard. (Apparently Harvard is “in” right now.) So now I’m sad and alone at my apartment staring at my air-conditioner, feeling depressed about the fact that I’ve literally already watched every (good) porn movie on the internet multiple times over. No but seriously, I’ve been feeling sort of like a desperate, dependent loser these past few days. When did I become this person? Like I keep going through the same thought loop over and over where I’m like, “Oh my god I’m so lonely, this summer is going to suck,” to then later thinking, “Hold on, I’m a powerful, independent woman who doesn’t rely on anyone or anything, I haven’t even thought about my boyfriend in hours!” and then looking at the clock and realizing it actually hasn’t been hours at all, it’s only been 20 minutes and I was napping during the entirety of it. Tragic.
But anyway, those are my feelings. I feel a lot better now that I’ve put them out there for a bunch of internet strangers to read. Feel free to vomit your feelings into the comment box below if you feel so inclined.
A | A | A
But you cannot be the exception to the rule. You cannot try to use your love to fix someone who is broken.
The first dilemma of the day is whether you will eat breakfast at home or in the office.
1. Melodramatic cataclysmic 6-year-affair. Thought he saw tattoo above my ass, it was really temporary glitter. Pencil dick. Masturbated into black dress socks only. Wrote a screenplay about me. 2. Psoriasis-ridden.
My parent’s divorce has played a huge role in my life, as it usually does for all divorced children. The effects have been both quite obvious – like being really good at packing an overnight bag – to almost subconscious.