The Real World: BSL

This is the true story of seven strangers...picked to interview for a job...answer questions and have their lives examined...to find out what happens...when people stop being real...and start getting jobs...The Real World: BSL.

Before yesterday, the last job interview I had involved about three questions. I went to the interview unaware that it was an interview. I was under the impression that I was to meet my future boss so that he and I could both confirm that the other was not insane. "How do you know Lindsey?" (Lindsey is the friend that got me the interview.) "How long are you planning on working here?" And finally, "When can you start?"
And so my BSL career began. Little did I know back then to what this job would lead. Yesterday was perhaps one of the most important days in my professional life. (PAhahahaha yeah right! just go with it.) I interviewed for what could be my first Real job; salary, vacation, benefits--the whole freakin' enchilada. Sure it would mean I would be stuck in an office all day, but when I was out of the office...Oh man I would be O-U-T, out like a fag in drag.
By the end of my individual interview with my boss, Bruce, I found that not only was I hoping to get the job, I was sure I would get it. Perhaps I have an inflated ego because I am awesome. Perhaps I know my boss and co-workers extremely well. Perhaps I can see the future. Whatever the case, I am so effing ready for next Tuesday it ain't eeeeven funny. The way I see it there are three ways this shiz can go down.
1) I get the job. Yay I have money!
2) Priya (my friend who needs the job more than me) gets the job. Yay Priya!
3) Some non-BSLer (or "buggle" as I like to call him/her) gets the job. Yay I am really bad at reading people! (Okay, so the third possibility kind of sucks, but hey that's life.)

[OMG WHY DOES THIS STUPID ITALICS SHIT KEEP HAPPENING???]

In conclusion, The Real World: BSL will probably score between a 7 and a 9, comparable to the Real World: Seattle--not nearly as shitty as the Las Vegas season, but not quite on the level of NYC or London. Sure we drunkenly yelled at each other everyday, flushed each other's resumes down the toilet, sabotaged each other's interviews by printing out drunken Facebook pictures of the interviewee and slipping them under the door of the interview room, but we all learned so much from our experiences together, and will never forget our time in the Dobbs University Center 270E (no, we are not EmoryCard and no, you cannot use our fax machine).