Spike's Bitches 26: Damn right I'm impure!
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Heh. Now y'all have made me smile, which is very good for a interview in 45 minutes.
It's a phone interview, but I'm going to go hit the showers anyway. I've been sleeping too late (funny phrase when unemployed) and I think that will be a nice to face my employment future with a clean badass self.
Then I'ma come back and growl at the person who hit sparky.
Hee.
Job ma to Susan and to Astarte!
I only hope they aren't trying for the same job, because I'd hate for the ~ma to get all confuzzled.
Sorry about the accident, Sparky. Even when no one's hurt, they're still quite upsetting.
job~ma to Astarte.
I'm just sitting around waiting for the phone to ring, and hoping Annabel stays quiet. (She's down for her nap, but not precisely asleep.)
(She's down for her nap, but not precisely asleep.)
Uh-oh... sounds like the set up for some sitcom Wacky Hi-Jinks!
chill out for a while ~ma to Annabel
Even when no one's hurt, they're still quite upsetting.
Fortunately, I'm over the upset and glad that I'm not an 18 year old undergrad, but a 37 year old woman who knows that all of this means a hit on my bank account -- nothing more. I don't have to call my Mother and tell her what happened to the brand new Jeep she bought me for college.
I'm glad you are okay, Sparky.
Oy vay! Sparky, glad to hear you're doing fine. Much job~ma to Astarte and Susan.
Am I missing anyone right now?
Oy, Sparky! I'm so glad everyone is ok.
Job~ma to Astarte and Susan! You two go get 'em!
I am home for the day. I had bio lab, a job interview and therapy. By the time I got to therapy, I was so freaking tired, I could hardly talk. And you all know how unusual that is for me! I had my therpist in stitches, 'cause I ended up half of my sentences with either "blah, blah, blah" or "yada, yada, yada."
And now I have homework. For everything. Including therapy. Must e-mail to therapist before I go to bed tonight so we can review it tomorrow. Life=hard work.
Life=hard work.
It really is. But you are doing great.
I just adjusted my office chair. Significantly. I suspect it was adjusted for a hunchbacked little person before me...
And yes, I am the person who has been in four weeks of massive back pain, three of them on Flexeril with a Vicodin chaser.
You all may commence the thwapping me about the head now because while the chair didn't cause the problem, it weren't much helping it either.
OK. Interview got off to an awkward start, since for some reason she called my cell rather than my regular line (both are on my resume), which involved scrambling through the house to get it and a sort of staticky, confusing opening to the conversation. Lesson learned: next time someone sets up a phone interview by email, specify the land line, because our house has oddly spotty cell reception.
Annabel made mild fussy noises at one point, but if the interviewer heard, she didn't comment. I don't think the interview went that well, but I'm not sure I mind, because I have mixed feelings about the position now that I know more of what it entails. The important thing is that I'm starting to get interviews, and one of these days it'll work out. My interview skills aren't as good as my cover letter/resume mojo--I just don't talk as well as I write--but they're not
bad,
either. So in a few more interviews, I should hit the right combination of being well-qualified and getting good chemistry with the interviewer, and I'll be in.