1) Eight days ago, my beloved Boston Red Sox won the World Series. And I was there at the games in Denver, waving around a ridiculous "Team of Dustin-y" sign that neither got the attention of second baseman Dustin Pedroia nor made it on television. It did, however, ensure that I'll spend baseball's offseason alone, eating mini-corndogs and re-enacting scenes from the playoffs with my collection of McFarlane figures.
My co-Soxaholic Texas Gal and I will be writing lots of gushing Boston praise in the next couple of days which, of course, I'll provide a link to. Until then, enjoy this picture of Curt Schilling:
2) After six months of unemployment and mailing out 38 resumes (not to the same place), I finally got an interview for a position that would be an excellent fit for me.
Getting this job with this company has the potential to be, like, a career and not just "a place I'll waste two years and have a collection of insurance cards, a Palm pilot I never returned, and a lingering sense of bitterness to show for it". Not only that, but working there won't require me to wear a name tag, use the term "plan-o-gram", or refer to my co-workers as my "Apple-buddies". I really want/need this job.
The interview went very well. I was prepared for everything they asked and they seemed pleased with my answers. They also didn't throw any curve balls, like the last interview I had (in 2004...also right after the Sox won the Series) when, as a final question, the HR director said "Tell me about the last book you read." I froze, my mind stuck on the human skull that decorated the book's cover. As I sat there fumbling for words, long enough for her to question whether I could actually read at all, out of my mouth tumbled the phrase "Well...it's called Death's Acre and it's about a place where they study decomposing bodies."
She said nothing.
"It's a paperback," I offered, as if that made me sound less insane. She silently nodded her head and closed the manila folder with my resume in it, letting me know that it was time to go. And that she would prefer to never, ever be alone with me again.
3) Taking a cue from my former roommate The Hot Librarian, I will be participating in NaBloPoMo which means that I'll be posting here every day for a month (which, for me, will end on December 5) and that I'm too lazy to do that novel writing thing. That means you have 29 more days of reading about the many reasons I have for being single, including a pair of glow-in-the-dark dinosaur footie pajamas and a penchant for doing this every time I eat an orange:
It's going to be a sweet thirty days.