Beyond that, one thing we realized that summer (and what brought us to be ~*~bEsTiEs~*~) is that no one we worked with understood us or got our humor. We were lone rangers, cruising through a desert on the fastest wild stallions in the West. People in our office couldn't keep up (At. All.). Most of the other interns couldn't even keep up. It got to a point where our bosses were like "We don't give you real work, so make us a Powerpoint presentation of current trends because you introduced us to LOL and Facebook, so you guys must be hip."
And, even though we made a fancy Powerpoint, no one understood what we were saying. No one "got it." Kristen and I discuss to this day if we presented drunk and spoke French. Really, we don't get it.
As foxy 22 year olds, Kristen and I have realized the same thing as we forge into the real world: no on gets us. We both make jokes, try to win people over with our killer fashion sense, and are hard fucking workers--but no one respects or takes our worth beyond face value. No one says "Oh, she's a spectacular, comedic, ironic writer" or "Oh, he is a greaaaat actor and entertainer."
No: all we get are jobs that have nothing to do with what we studied in college. Or, they have nothing to do with what we actually want to be "when we grow up." Either way: we feel like we're doomed.
Beyond predicting "David at the Dentist" or "Kittens Inspired by Kittens," no one has taken our cool hunting predictions beyond being strange, weird, and off-kilter. We have close-to-mainstream-taste, but no one takes us seriously (which is why we started a blog).
But, you know what: we've reached a point where we don't fucking care anymore. We'll watch "Bart is the General" and laugh at "Riding On the Bus with my Sister" and still love/hate Rosie O'Donnell and not care that no one "gets us."