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“A sensitive, superior wordsmith whose cleverness rivals even the greatest minds of our time”

 

  1.    How I got here:

Following what my mother describes as “a rather tumultuous back labor,” I arrived. Born with glasses, a perpetual hunger for turkey sandwiches and a need to be right at all times, I attended the University of New Hampshire and majored in Economics and English. If those majors don’t just radiate “I have NO clue what I want to do,” then I don’t know what does.  I came in HOT to Karmory in June, full of creative energy and nervous fidgeting.

  1.    How I describe myself:

Jennifer Lawrence and Amy Schumer’s future best friend. A blonde bombshell, Bridget Bardot look-alike. Intelligent. Awe-Inspiring. Hilarious. A sensitive, superior wordsmith whose cleverness rivals even the greatest minds of our time. Humble.

  1.    How my friends describe me:

A vulgar, sarcastic know-it-all with a heart of gold who needs to stop asking for bites of our food, forcing us to watch Chopped, screaming at the television when her shows are on, live-narrating every movie and making those disgusted noises whenever she edits our papers.

  1. 4. If you could create a GoFundMe about anything, what would it be?

I think it’s about time we all stood united against inward swinging bathroom doors. I also would fully support a reboot of the hit show, The Nanny.

  1. 5. Do you have any irrational fears?

I refuse to drive over a lit cigarette because I am certain it will blow up my car.

  1. What do you think about when you are alone in your car?

My inner monologue-

“The GPS said it would take me an hour and 15 minutes to get home. Oh yea? Well, well, well GPS, you have officially thrown the gauntlet down and I accept your challenge.”

I will never understand how I don’t have a record deal yet, no one recognizes true talent these days.”

“Captain’s Log, 6:15pm. Just left work – air is getting thin and food is scarce. Sun is beating fiercely into the vehicle as I wonder if I will ever make it out of this commuter labyrinth of suffering. “

“Oh wow, I really didn’t hit that note did I? Can anyone hear me? Man, I hope not.”

  1.    What do you see for yourself in the future?

My concept of the future changes nearly every day. So how about I walk you through what I foresee happening in the next couple days.

8 - 9 am- Wake up and consider going to the gym. Look around desperately to find an excuse not to go. Remember I went to the gym last month and assume I’m probably set for the next year.

9 am – Talk to cat, Gus in baby voice and continue to ask him “how’s my little baby boy” and pretend he is answering.

9:30 -10 am Look through old pictures of self very critically – wallow in self-pity and swear this will be the year I will finally lose those 10 pounds.

10-11 am - Recall most recent time I was not right – look out the window with a remorseful but determined expression, clench fist and swear it will never happen again.

11 am – 12 pm – Stare angrily at the photo of the last person I was wrong in front of. Conduct thorough research on said topic I messed up on and make obsessive mental talking points to bring up in next conversation.

12-3pm Finish all work for next 18 months; tell no one (it will give me the appearance of being a stellar worker down the road.) Research new recipes and sandwich concepts to attempt and Instagram later.

3-4pm: Call the aforementioned person who caught me being wrong. Act casual, ask about her day, pretend to care and lull her into a false sense of security before discreetly mentioning the topic of our last conversation. Drop knowledge bomb. Hang up rapidly and look smugly out into the distance and marinate in my genius.

5 pm: Start to craft sandwich.

7 pm: Finish crafting sandwich and take 3 entire minutes to reflect that you spent two hours building a sandwich.

8 pm: Plot world domination for the remainder of the evening. Consider titles, such as Queen J-Master Flex or Empress Jaime Strong-In-The-Legs Adams, Wolf of the South, Champion of Perpetual Over-Thinkers and Jaded Middle Children.

 

 

 

 

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