J. Crew did not have the lobster-printed chinos, as the catalog promised. Mall of Georgia, you are a disgrace to your namesake. If the debtors' colony had demanded lobster-printed chinos, you can bet that James Oglethorpe would have made damn sure they had them, even if he had to stitch each individual lobster on himself.

Flashbacks to last summer as the job hunt continues. Today was promising, though. I talked to some nice people at Portabello's Pantry who sounded like they wouldn't terribly mind paying me to cart their food. Other prospects: Abbadabba's (ha), European Coffee, Dick Blick's, Atlanta Bread Company (Adam, I can't help it, they're hiring, what should I do??), Jason's Deli (where I have worked), and about five Starbucks. Yes, I took one application and photocopied it a bunch of times, so there's a stack of Starbucks applications sitting in the passenger seat that I distribute every time I pass one (which happens every other traffic light). I'm cautiously optimistic, which is a funny way of saying, "I'm desperate." Speaking of which, my dad is urging me to apply to Publix because we know the owner.

Watched Northfork last night, and it was the only time I think I've ever appreciated Nick Nolte. It's part of a trilogy, by the way? Humminah?

That new Strokes CD is really keeping my good company, but I broke down and put in John Mayer today. In my mom's BMW convertible. With a Starbucks coffee in the cupholder. Listening to John Mayer. With Starbucks.

While that sinks in, I'm off to watch 21 Grams.