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Tales of a Post-Grad Nothing

Saturday, June 04, 2005

I have no idea about my family tree, but from way I've been acting this week, there's got to be some Jersey roots in there. The boyfriend is now in a culinary internship in what sounds like a delightful restaurant barring the fact that he works 75 hours a week for no pay. That makes me the breadwinner. Here I am after having won some bread:



Chris (the other one, now you can see why I just refer to him as 'the boyfriend') is a pretty capable guy and supposedly voluntary exploitation is a vital part of making it in the culinary industry. I'm a hard worker, it's one of my good points and I've pulled 75 hour weeks for little to no pay, but there's something about seeing someone you love do it that ignites some sort of ghetto fire from deep within my soul that quite frankly, I didn't really know existed. Chris comes home and tells me stories about wearily chopping vegetables and having people tell him to go faster and all I keep thinking is "oh no...oh no they just did-n't...don't even TELL me they did that sista...not to MY man they did-n't" [triple snap here]. When exactly I became a girl from the pro-jects or a star of anything on the UPN, I have no idea. Next time I hang out with Christina Aguilera, I'll have to ask her if she went through the same thing.

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