As of late, it seems like everyone I know is in love with Cha Cha, the magical text-and-answer site previously referred to on this blog as the "greatest invention of the texting age." Send any inquiry to 242-242 and you will get a reply within minutes from a (human, not computer) texting specialist. It's great for solving bar bets, random curiosities, and going over your pre-assigned limit of text messages on your cell service plan.
Furthering my curiosity for Cha Cha I joined numerous friends who have signed up to work (and get paid) by answering the slew of endless, most likely intoxicated, questions they receive. Just go to their site, sign up, take a very easy test, and that's it. That's what I did!
Except, well, I failed the fucking test.
Evidently I am not capable of answering a text message from a random drunken stranger. And, to be honest, it hurts. It hurts so bad. Not the rejection (I'm quite used to that by now), but the fact that deep down I know I'm amazing when it comes to texting drunk people. It's what I was put on this earth to do. But after this searing rejection from some faceless internet company, I just don't know what to believe anymore.