Happy Birthday to Andrew!

He's 30 today. Or, as I like to think: 21 with 9 years of experience. Kiss Carmine and Ann for me!

As for me, this will go down as the year I banged myself up the most. Shall we tally 'em up? Why not....both shoulders dislocated, Fibromyalgia in back, shoulders and legs. Continual banging of toes in those psuedo-mukluk boots I should have left on the shelf. Slipped and fell on the ice how many times? 4? 5? Dentist has informed me my TMJ is worse (and I'm grinding my jaw at night), knee swelling (again, what else is new), and my back has turned me into the human knuckle with pops, cracks, creaks, and groans. Either I need a new body, some WD-40, or one of those medeival racks is called for. Yikes.

My latest interview went well--but then again, I don't really know what the hell they're looking for. What I really should say is that I'm satisfied with the kick-ass thank you note I sent. It was absolutely complete. Next week I will be in the belly of the beast--yes, kiddies, the MTA has called. The one agency that has fucked up my life for so long I simply MUST see what their headquarters looks like.

The MTA (Most Terrible Authority) tests huge hunks of people who apply for positions. Things like spelling, grammar, typing. Since I was an English major, I threw back my balding mane of hair like a grizzled lionness and laughed HAH! when I got the call. "That test will take all of 20 minutes for me," I told the woman. Still, with my luck (which is none), I'm sure affirmative action will give the potential position to a ninth grade dropout who lives in Hunt's Point. I applied on a whim, giggling madly as I thought to myself, "They will NEVER contact me." Wow. I was wrong. Surprise, surprise. Let's see if someone here doesn't fuck it up for me. I still have 6 vacation days left, and I'm using all of them. The battle for holiday days will still rage, I'm sure. It's the Bag O'Rocks hangover.

Whatever will they do when I leave? That's getting to be so close. ONLY the jobs I have applied for that are good are contacting me this time around. I've told the agencies to go scratch. I knew I'd have to do the hard work myself. Perhaps if I didn't let them waste my time, I wouldn't be here? No use looking back.

And the next big question: who's gonna lug my Christmas tree home with me this year? God forbid someone with a car actually volunteers to help.