They always happen in threes..

The website through whom I met ex-girlfriend Melissa Rhyke sent me an e-mail asking if I would be interested in joining them on a long-term contract. I told them their one and only recommendation for me turned out to be a selfish, malignant, maladjusted dog-bitch and I’d rather waste my money on a t-shirt, thank you. It felt good.
Late last night, an old friend from uni called to say he was moving to America for business, and would I like to attend his leaving do next Friday “somewhere chic in London.” I said I’d be along if the dole office would provide me with funds for transport, entertainment and sundries and he laughed. He promised to keep in touch, but we left uni over a year ago, and it’s the first time he’s contacted me since, so I won’t be expecting a call anytime soon. (The dole office, by the way, don’t provide funds for transport, entertainment and sundries. I know. I asked them)
Then this morning I get an e-mail from Mr Patel, the manager at the cheapo store that wouldn’t hire me, stating “Our first choice turned out to be unsuitable and disappeared on Monday with the weekend takings and a vanful of merchandise.” Would I still be interested in the assistant manager’s position, now it’s vacant again?
I said I’d rather run naked through Chelmsford with my scrotum superglued to an Arab than ever set foot in his store again, but thanks for thinking of me…
Isn’t life fun??

RC 15-10-08
2123 BST