I found out I look good

In a bookbag, hoodie, jeans and converse.

My work day starts whenever I get up. Drink some coffee, read me some Bible (Yes, God is first) argue with my room mate about the ethics behind asking permission prior to consuming my food, bang out a half-hearted letter to my head hunter of choice, and then browse the boards to see who needs some cheap labor.

I don't consider myself cheap labor. Just smarter. I don't have a secretary, classy office, I don't even have a printer. That's what my roomie is there for.

Morning goes on, phone calls trickle in. Jane from Acme Staffing* calls, Sony wants to interview. Ehh...ok...they better be playing the song I want to hear. John from Top Dog Search* saw my resume online...problem is...he is calling from Wyoming (Are IT people that hard to find?) and he wants me to be some nameless peon at some nameless corporation in the middle of the Boonies in NJ. (AKA Nameless Junk)

Then some smart aleck emails me from two weeks ago, to pick up our conversation as to where we left off. Contracts are discussed, prices are kicked higher and lower, and then...a meeting is set up.

I look up at the time, o crap...it's 11:00 and I am meeting a client for lunch....

Shower, change into a choice pair of 30 dollar jeans, throw on my Phat Farm hoodie (Just the way it slinks on me, makes me feel like one of those cool kids from campus!) and head out the door.

Usually it's a woman I am meeting up with...and I don't mind that at all, except when we sit down she wants to talk about matching "the exact shade" of color that she picked up from a paint swatch at a Benjamin Moore store. It irks me just the slightest bit because as much as I want to please her (as a customer, you perverts!) it sucks that I have to rely on a non-calibrated monitor to do only what a calibrated, 5000 dollar machine can do.

No matter...

Moving along, make sure she tips my bill for the coffee I drink, head out...with a check in hand, no less, and then head to a bank to deposit.

I wish it would all sit there and vegetate and triple in a months time...but no...it's going to have to go for bills. Groceries...rent...light...and when my roomie decides that he needs to hit me up for a loan for gas.

Come home...by now it's dinner time...having spent the entire day meeting with people or hanging out at Barne's and Nobles on 34th...so I fix myself some quick spaghetti, avoid my roomie yet again, slink into my office, and then just hunker down on my laptop.

By this time, my inbox has filled up with headhunters desiring me to meet them, or head hunters pissed that I blew them off and didn't meet them, or clients asking for updates on their projects.

I especially like those emails from elated people who say they LOVE their site.

Makes me feel halfway important.

Anyway, I can only put in two hours of usable work, so I blast my Crystal Method to get me in the juicy, bass-line induced state of mine to stare at endless strings of code and figure out the hexidecimal value of London Fog paint.

Lights out. Sleep. Repeat.