Waiting Games

Yeah, it's been a while since I last posted. I've been recovering from celebrating my birthday. Really, I have. It took me nearly three weeks. You believe me, right?

Damn. Didn't think so.

Actually, the birthday celebration was rather subdued this year, but was quite drawn out. Zappagirl took me to see Beauty and the Beast at the IMAX, where we laughed and cried and sang along (to ourselves - unlike the girl behind us who recited the entire movie word for word). It was great to see one of the Disney masterpieces on the big (REALLY BIG) screen again, since their animation department has been churning out major crap lately. I'm currently biding my time 'til the IMAX adaptation of The Lion King is released next year.

After the movie, Rosencrantz joined us for dinner at Kaldi's. Mmm. And they didn't screw up my order this year. (She also invited me to the Neil Gaiman lecture at Northern Kentucky University, which was fabulous. He read the first five chapters of his upcoming book, and now I'm stuck waiting until the end of June to find out what happens next.)

I hosted a small movie night/Oscars soiree the other night, but the damn thing was so long that everyone left before the show was over and I fell asleep on the couch in the middle of it. I missed Cirque du Soleil's performance and Randy Newman's acceptance speech, but I was awake in time to see Halle Berry sob her heart out. Aw. Go Halle. (And Gwyneth? Cameron? Please look in the mirror before you leave the house from now on. Sheesh.)

No one has stepped up to report a missing kitten, so I suppose that Kismet is officially mine now. She and Ma Huang are getting along fine, and she is in the midst of a ton of trips to the vet. She got spayed on Monday, and is sporting a little stitched-up incision on her now-shaved belly. Poor thing. She looks ridiculous.

Zappagirl and I have been doing karaoke on Friday nights at a bar near her house. We brought the house down with our rendition of "It's Raining Men" (complete with choreography!), and Zappagirl dueted with our pizza delivery guy to the Human League's "Don't You Want Me." It's amazing what a few beers will do.

But besides all of these fun-filled activities, I've been doing a lot of waiting.

I waited for a while for some investment money to settle so I wouldn't have to resort to living in my car. It finally came through, and I celebrated with a small spending spree at Best Buy. I still have yet to decide if I like the new Eels album, but Bob Mould's latest release is growing on me slowly. (Bob's playing around with electronica, and it's downright weird. Black Sheets of Rain this ain't.) I am also now hopelessly addicted to Grim Fandango, but I'm tired of wandering around trying to figure out what to do with a turkey baster full of hookah water. But at least I'm amusing myself by reading bad poetry to dead beatniks at the Blue Casket. (And yes, I know this game is ancient. It was ten bucks in the bargain software section. It was an impulse buy. Shut up.)

I'm anxiously waiting for the Kevin Smith lecture at the University of Cincinnati next month. Silent Bob speaks!

I'm waiting for the 10th anniversary party at the Warehouse (which I refuse to link to because their website is embarrassingly still under construction after a freakin' year), which at this point is being billed as "an 80s rave." Music for the old folks! Which little black dress should I wear?

I waited for the IRS to call me back about possible employment. See, I figured it would be a great place to work temporarily while I figured out what I really wanted to do with my life, so I sent in my resume and took the placement test in January. I got my scores back in February, sent in the necessary forms, and waited for them to call me. And waited. And waited. And waited. They finally called two weeks ago to offer me a thirty day position... on third shift. I waited six weeks for this? Feh.

The good news is I had an interview today (or yesterday, by the time this gets posted). I don't want to jinx myself by saying where it was, but it was with an organization that I previously worked for, and is very close to my heart. I think the interview went well in retrospect, but when I was sitting in the meeting room with the department director, his assistant, and my prospective supervisor, I wasn't so sure. My brain was hurling insults at me every time I opened my mouth.

"You've had too much coffee, you know. Enthusiam is one thing, but you're bordering on psychotic."

"Did you know you stutter when you talk? That's really professional."

"That was quite possibly the dumbest answer I've ever heard to that question. Have you never interviewed for a job before?"

"Computer proficient. Um, whatever. Surfing the internet, e-mailing Roger Mexico at odd hours on Saturday night, and occasionally updating your blog does not equal computer proficient."

"Hope they don't notice the seam on the back of your shoe is splitting."

But I smiled and listened to the director explain the directions that the department was headed and told my brain to shut the hell up. I tried to be as polite and professional as possible, and tried to figure out if "Well, we have some other applicants to interview," meant "We like you, but we obviously can't hire you on the spot," or "We hate you. Please go away now."

So now I'm back to sitting by my phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for a job offer or a polite rejection. While I'm waiting, I'm crossing my fingers and saying prayers and lighting candles and offering up large sacrifices to the Employment gods.

And playing Grim Fandango. I know that hookah water fits somewhere.