Interview

My Ruby Haired Princess (I'll have to get a shorter nickname for her than that, for the purpose of anona-blogging) has a job interview for me. Yeah me! She's been pushing and pushing my resume around her place of employment, with the strict conviction that I am perfect for the job. Which, of course, I am. The constant restructuring in gaming properties has finally (hopefully) left this step child of a position with some steady bosses who want somebody in there to get the job done. So tomorrow at 3, I'm gonna strap my fat-azz into my suit, tell myself I look good, and go get that job.

I've made all the cross-your-fingers-for-me phone calls - my parents, Sissy, My Fella, G, etc. My mother's going to the church to light a candle even. You know those Catholics.

I told G that I'd have to reserve a table for like 15 to cover all the folks who've bought me meals since I entered this unfortunate-period-of-under-employment. "Table of 15, one check, please." To think, so close to employment. So close to being able to over tip my favorite waiter at my favorite joint just so I can cop a shameless, self-gratifying feel of his perfect buttocks.

Wish me luck!