that interview thing

February 29th, 2004

Know what makes me nervous about this interview in New York?

That they might actually offer me the job.

Roommate is counting on it and has already put in his request that a Swedish bikini model sublet my room (on the condition that she cooks topless).

My mother is counting on it and has already dedicated a portion of her tax return to bring my Smart Assed Sibling for a visit to the Big Apple this spring.

My Galpal, Em, is counting on it and has demanded that I give her something of mine before I leave (she will choose what that thing is). Oh, and that she gets to ride in the moving truck.

Em and I spent all day together shopping, eating, and talking about New York what-ifs. Only for her, it wasn’t so much a what-if, as a done deal.

Em: When I drove from your house last night, I got sadder and sadder.
H: Awwww. Emmm! I’m not going anywhere!!!!
Em: For real, I’M SO GAY
H: They might not hire me. But you’re right… you are so gay.
Em: Shut up.
H: You.
Em: I’m gonna miss you.

Watch me blow the interview. That’d sure teach ‘em.