do i love my job, you ask? cleaning up after other people's shit may seem an odd choice (brave, you wanted to say?) for work, so let me assure you: working at night, at your own leasure, without supervision, alongside your best friend leaves you with countless reasons and opportunities to milk the clock til its nipples are sore. that is nice, considering what janitors get PAID! jep, it's true: i am a rich janitor.

the think-tank created by my friend and i is also something to marvel at. just last week it was time for yet another installment of "shannon believes in aliens? what a freak!" vs "kadri: fascist dictator. staple her mouth shut." rarely do good, really good ideas come more smoothly and in quicker succession than when cleaning bent over a toilet seat and nothing, i repeat NOTHING, makes you put those ideas into action faster than wiping that filtered mcdolnald's off the inner rim of some doctor's porcelain throne.

meanwhile, i'm getting ready to graduate without a fuckin penny of debt. instead, i boast polished and global skills in many areas including, but not being limited to, scrubbing, mopping, and vacuuming people, places, and things.