I have got the best news. I got the job! I spent the entirety of yesterday afternoon grinning at everyone who passed. No-one could bring me down.
I start my new job on May 24th. Until then, I am free to be snotty to everyone in this office who ever pissed me off. Not only is it a permanent position (I am currently a top-secret student intern), but I get benefits and a promotion. Best of all, even if I’m assigned to this office, I can complain as much as I like, because my supervisor won’t be an idiot.
One odd thing, however: when I told my current supervisor that I’d gotten the job, she asked, “You haven’t told Letisha yet, have you?” Of course I had – she was the first person I told. But I told my supervisor what she obviously wanted to hear: “No, of course not.”
Now, why did she not want Letisha to know? Is she afraid Letisha would be hurt? Jealous, perhaps? Honestly, I believe some people are out of their minds. Letisha had applied for the same job, yes, but even she admitted that she’d put no effort into the application she turned in. She didn’t do any of the KSA’s (Knowledge, Skills & Abilities), and she hadn’t even considered that she might get the job.
I called Dirk up early and bubbled at him about the new job for a while.
When I went over to his house, Jason was there, but he had to get a hair cut. Dirk and I went to the batting cage for a while, smoked a little, and then I got to take a nap.
I’d been worried about my near-constant tiredness lately. For those that have been reading that long (or who’ve braved the no-man’s land that is the archives), constant tiredness was the first symptom of my pregnancy. I’ve been super-careful since then (mainly because nobody in their right mind wants a repeat abortion (although, I might hastily add, they are sometimes unavoidable)), but I was worried just the same.
I’m not pregnant. This week couldn’t get much better, unless I suddenly won enough money to set me up for life, and the band was signed for a major record deal.
I don’t put any faith in miracles.
Okay, whoever is reading from the FTC, I’d suggest you e-mail me. If I keep seeing your agency popping up on NedStat without any explanation from you, I’m going to take this sucker as far underground as possible.
Seeing other gov’t domains pop up on NedStat worries me.
Tonight I think I’m going to buy some hot curry, because I have to figure out a way to make the lamb my mother cooked the other night palatable for my consumption. She won’t eat it, and my father’s gone on this weird starvation diet, so it’s left up to me.
I might have mentioned the fact that my father is obese. My mother, kind-hearted soul that she is, told him that if he hasn’t lost weight (30-40lbs) by the time we go on vacation, she’s not coming with us. Granted, she issued this ultimatum months ago, and he’s done nothing to lose weight. Food is his sanctuary from a cruel world. She reminded him of her threat over the week-end, and he panicked. Now, he is drinking two Slim-Fast shakes a day, and eating nothing but cabbage with a bit of soy sauce for dinner.
Any idiot could tell you that this diet plan is immensely unhealthy. This is the kind of diet plan that needs a doctor monitoring you constantly, and the doctor himself would be telling you what an idiot you are on a regular basis. My father, however, is a stubborn man, who is determined to evoke pity in anyone who expects him to do anything. So, I’m sure he’s going to keep this up until he collapses or something, at which point he hopes my mother will let up and say, “Oh, never mind, you poor dear. Eat as much as you like, it doesn’t matter as much as you matter to me.”
That would be the chain of events if we lived in a perfect world. However, we don’t, and my mother is likely to either A) not care if he starves himself to the point of collapse, and/or B) simply divorce him if he doesn’t start losing weight. Cheerful times we live in, hmmm?
There was an Asian-Pacific Islander Celebration (or something) at work today. I went, because they were offering free food. I am a sucker for free food, even the lukewarm stuff they tend to have at these affairs. There were Filipino dancers (most of which were mestizos (sp), or part-Korean), and there was a psycho Filipino speaker from Maryland. He spent a lot of time shouting about the atrocities he wasn’t going to describe to us in detail.
Other than that, it’s been an uneventful day. Remind me to get into serious dream analysis tomorrow.