UPDATE: After all of this stress over the stupid suit, my interview got cancelled. In other news, I made it to the final round in the interview process for the D.C. job.
I am heading to the drycleaners right now to pick up "my blazer." We don't actually know that this is my blazer, but that's what they told me on the phone last night. Of course, they also tried to tell me that a Nabisco Sweatshirt was mine too...as if.
I'm hauling my suit to school today and I'm going to change right before my interview...I just can't face a whole day teetering around on high heels and running my pantyhose. I'm in no mood, as my mom would say.
Also, when I get back from the cleaners I'm going to call the FBI and see what they want with me. Sadly, the chances that whatever they want is going to turn out to be a good story is pretty much slim to none, and slim's out of town. I'll probably spend an hour answering a bunch of questions about one of my friends...which is cool, but doesn't do justice to the FBI hunting you down at your parents house and scaring your poor mother half to death.
