Unemployment brings out your survival instincts, I think. For example this morning, it was nine o'clock, and still no call from the agency. So my mind searched for solutions. I set out on a mission to Chinatown to track down the guy who asked me to teach his friend English three years ago just before I left for Taiwan. On the bus, it occurred to me that I remembered neither his name, nor what he looked like. All I remembered was that on the shelf behind his desk in his office, which was somewhere to the left when you stepped out of the elevator on one of eight levels of an office building in Chinatown, there was a photo of him standing next to Bob Hawk. I felt it was bold of me to go looking for someone who I couldn't remember looked like at all, and I reminisced the day I auditioned for the interpretive dance project in Taiwan. I sat on the floor of the theatre and all I could think of was how desperately I wanted to be involved. I had five months left in Taiwan - they had to be five last months to remember. The overwhelming majority of brain cells upstairs shouted "You've got nothing to lose! You've got nothing to lose!" and a supernatural force pulled me up off my numb bottom and onto the stage, where I 'performed' to Nothing Compares by Sinead O'Connore. As I stood motionless but for my arms waving around as if I was in fact in a beginner's yoga class, my internal monologue chuckled girlishly as it declared that this was indeed the stupidest thing I had ever done.

The story of my life would dictate that the expedition culminated in an anticlimax. I found noone. But in the lift, I let out a silent, A Clockwork Orange-esque "Ultra-Violence" violent baba ganouj-from-yesterday fart which someone responded to out loud with "Yuk", while a Chinese girl looked at me then commented to her boyfriend in that bitchy-Xiaojie tone, that I was "very not thin".

The rest of the morning was an extended lunch-break of looking at clothes and books. I tried on a pair of boots that would be perfect for Korea (if I go). They were flat, they fit, and they were the right length. Too bad they were one hundred and seventy five big ones.

Then I came home, discovered a letter from Woolworths. When did I ever work at Woolworths? I though to myself. As I pulled the letter out, the first word I caught was "Congratulations". Get this - I entered a stupid promo at Food For Less which required me to buy two certain brands. I ended up buying some sponges and a pen. Anyway, I got a runner's up prize!!! A $100 gift card. It would be nice if it was valid at say Myer or David Jones, but no, I have to spend it at the ultra-glamorous Woollies, Big W, Woolies Liquor, BWS, or Dick Smiths.

Maybe I'll buy a webcam at Dick Smiths. But the moral of the story is, enter those supermarket promos! Buy those two jars of bolognese sauce for your chance to win a trip for two to Italy!

And out.  ¶ 13:27