And How Was Your Evening?

A few hours ago, I was contentedly sitting in front of my computer, getting ready tell you hi! & did you miss me? & sweet merciful God, I am so over the whole 520-step interview process & blah blah talky talk talk blah. Then Chris called to tell me he was on his way home. Early! Dinner before nine o'clock! Woo hoo! And then I was further distracted by something shiny (oooh, lipgloss!) & before I had a chance to actually write anything, Chris was home. And he brought news. Of the "guess what happened on the way home" & "I'll tell you all about it after I call the insurance company" variety. Thankfully, Chris is fine, but Carmen (what, doesn't your husband name his car?) has seen better days. (Of course, she's also seen worse days. This is the third accident she & Chris have been in within the past year. The one with the turkey was much worse. But that's a story for another day.) Anyway, after that, we could hardly just stay home & eat frittata, could we? The situation clearly called for drastic mood-enhancing measures. Which, in this house, means ice cream. And we were quite happily enjoying our ice cream when a gentleman in a ginormous SUV backed into Chris' motorcycle in the DQ parking lot. Bang. Did I mention that said gentleman happens to be unlicensed? Of course he is. He also has more tattoos than teeth, but I suppose that's not strictly relevant.

So.

If you need either of us, we will be sitting quietly on the couch, trying to avoid further incident. Please send liquor & chocolate.

Interview Update

My (two-and-a-half-hour) interview went fairly well, I think, except for the fact that my interviewer shared with me that there are over 70 other applicants for the job and the one she met with before me had two Master's degrees. Two! Which, if you're playing along at home, is practically like two more than I have. But she did indicate that I would be getting a call to schedule the next round of interviews so I must have dazzled her with my wit and charm. Or maybe she thought we were kindred spirits in that we both once went to the same hairdresser. (Not you, Mom!) Or maybe she was just trying to get me the hell out of her office because dear God, 2.5 hours? I've had dates that didn't last that long! (Thankfully!) Oh, and when I finally got out of there, I had planned to take the subway home, only to find out that the line that I'm on is being repaired so now it connects to . . . well, nowhere, actually. Which is extra-special fun since one of the selling points of our new house was its proximity to the T. That goes nowhere. Brilliant.

Another interview this afternoon with a different company. Another step closer to buying out Zappos. Fingers crossed!

You Waited 10 Days For This?

That was a rather long one day silence, wasn't it? Well, you know, I've been busy. Really, really busy. With all of the, um, important chocolate-eating and television-watching I've been doing. I also sold some stuff on Craig's List and organized my closet and made friends with the kids next door. Oh, and one day? Chris called for me from the back yard in the exact same tone that I would use if I had found a stack of diamond-filled Tiffany boxes. Unfortunately, no little blue boxes were in evidence, and what he actually found looked quite a bit like this:

So, um, yeah. Lots of excitement. Very busy. (Did you gag a little bit when you saw that? Because I did. And that slimy little thing is living in my back yard. Which I guess is better than in my bedroom, which is where Chris wanted to keep it. Boys are weird.)

Anyway.

The Dream Job interview is tomorrow. I am preparing for it by spending the day contemplating my wardrobe and doing my nails. Because I wouldn't hire someone for an important and responsible position if she couldn't even maintain her manicure, would you? It seems like possibly I should be doing something else to prepare for this. Something . . . not related to grooming. Some kind of research about the company perhaps? The thing is, it's kind of not my Dream Job anymore. I mean, I applied for it over a month ago, and I apparently have the attention span of goldfish because now I'm distracted by the brand! new! sparkly! Dream Job I applied for earlier today. Which probably also isn't really my Dream Job either, in that I don't recall the words "heiress", "royalty" or "obscene amounts of money in exchange for virtually no effort on your part" being used in the job description. However, my friend Mary sent me a link to this site (oooooh, shoes, want new shooooooooes, oh wait, have no money, damn) and I am fairly certain that both jobs offer some sort of monetary compensation, which means I could buy these.

Or these. And maybe these.Wish me luck!