The thing with job interviews is that you never know exactly what you're going to get. Kind of like a blind date. Despite what you've heard, there is always a very real possibility that your prince charming is going to wind up being some middle aged balding guy with his chest hair poking out of the top of his shirt and a habit of calling women "Toots".

When your date turns out to be, say, a tall dark and handsome lawyer who wears Armani, it's a pleasant surprise.

I went on a job interview yesterday, that I honestly didn't have high hopes for. The job ad gives you the same bullshit: flex time, loft space, creative environment, etc.

So I assumed that I was walking into what would more likely than not be my own personal hell.

Turns out, the hiring manager is a great guy. The team I'd be working with consists of this awesome chick, a guy who reminds me of Jack from Will and Grace, and a really good looking Tool fan. I mean really good looking.

I sat down for the second phase of my interview, and the first thing one of the team members did was make a dick joke. I was floored. Someone just made a big penis joke during my interview.

I belong here.

That facet of the interview went well, and then it was time to meet the CEO. Everyone I had met up until then had been pretty awesome, and by all accounts he's a pretty decent guy too. He sits down, wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt and leans back in the chair.

He kind of locked his fingers behind his head and said "I have one question for you".

Ok, hit me.

Folks, I am not making this up.

"If you had a gigabyte of data, and every character was one byte, how many stories tall would it be if you printed it out?"

To which my response was "...What?"

So, I did what I could. I told him theoretically the math you'd use to figure it out. He then stretched his arms out over his head a little bit and said "Ok, do it."

"....do what?"
"Figure it out."
"...here?"
"Yes."
"But I kind of lack the resources I'd need to ans..."
"Use what you know from your everyday life. Ball park it."
"...can I phone a friend?"

Apparently, no, I could not phone a friend.

After about 20 minutes of making my hiring manager do the basic math for me while I tried explaining the numbers I had and how I came up with them (I finally wore him down into settling on a font size and other such things), I finally came to the answer of about 18 stories high.

No one said a word.

Of course, this is my hell. I've had nightmares about this. Of course they aren't saying anything. They're wondering how I've made it this long in my life without being able to do basic math. (Random aside: I'm sorry to Dr. Fenwick. I was wrong when I told you I'd never have to use this shit.)

The CEO finally looks at me and laughs, and said "No one ever gets that right. Good job." He then shook my hand and walked out.

I looked at the hiring manager, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.

I finally said, 'So what's the answer to that question?"

"Between 18-20 stories. Good job."

I was actually fucking right. What is up NOW, bitches?!

I couldn't do it again if you paid me.

There is some good news!

In October, I will be officially unemployed.

I know, you're probably thinking "How is that good news?", let me tell you.

It gives me ample time to either find a job suitable to my ridiculously random skill set, or gives me ample time to sit at my parents house and write my book. Either way it seems like my life will be a hell of a lot less stressful, once you take my current financial clusterfuck out of the equation.

I think a lot of my friends are waiting for me to absolutely snap. I got bent over by a credit card company, and rightfully so. Turns out, when you're not paid on time, and then not paid the full amount, after a few months you fall out of favor with your creditors.

Who'd have thunk, right?

I do have an interview today, to do something that I'm really goddamn good at. It's one of those things that when I started doing it 10 years ago, I was doing it for fun. I kept it up, and suddenly 2 years ago it's the New Hot Job. Of course, I didn't realize this as I was busy sitting back thinking "People will pay me for this? Seriously? And I get to keep my shirt on the entire time?"

A little part of me hopes they offer me the job today, so I can walk back into my office, take my pictures off my desk, toss them the keys and tell them to mail me my next check.

So yea, another turd in the sea of shit that has become my life.

However, I have faith it'll get better.

If not, I suppose I can always take up stripping.

What a lazy Sunday.

I have a lot of work to do for my job, and a lot of work to do for an upcoming interview I have. I'm really excited, because I would love to have this job. LOVE.

But I'm trying to not get my hopes up.

Anyway, I was going through my usual reads and I found the saddest blog post from my buddy thesuit.
Turns out, while he was rocking out to Incubus, his condo was burning. Makes me want to cry for him, because all the sudden I have all these feelings I don't know what to do with. (Must be a PMS thing). Anyway, keep him in your prayers. He's special to me, and I can only hope some attractive rich woman sees what happened and decides she wants him as a pool boy.

Hey, weirder things have happened.

Obligatory birthday post!

I'm not sure if it's the martinis I had with my heterolifemate, or the chocolate cake I got from a coworker, but holy crap I'm in a great mood considering I'm now old.

I always hoped things would be a little different by now. It's kind of sad being twenty seven and still struggling to make bills, but I figure it's just a matter of time until things turn around. If not, there's always alcoholism.

Anyway, I wanted to thank everyone for all the good wishes in my email, on facebook and on twitter. You guys are amazing and I love most of you. :)

Time to pass out in a puddle of diet coke and leftover cake.

Tomorrow is going to suck. I'm too old for this!

Life has kind of sucked balls lately. I've been doing some reevaluating, and I've decided this is not exactly how I expected my life to turn out. Working at a job that doesn't pay me enough when they do manage to pay me (15 days late last month!). A few less publishing credits than I'd like. A few more gray hairs than I'd like. A few less significant others than I'd like.

The significant other thing is more my own fault than anything. On the "nurturing and caring" scale, I rank somewhere between Hitler and animals that eat their own young. I doubt that will change anytime soon, so it takes a special kind of guy.

All of that is actually, now that I write it down, not that big of a deal. It's all shit that I am totally capable of changing. Which is why I work my ass off. Because I believe it won't always be this bad. I also believe that the Geico caveman is the worst advertising idea in the history of the world, but they continue to be on TV, so it's pretty obvious that I've been wrong before.

My birthday is coming up in exactly 7 days. I'm turning 27! Whee. The plan is the same I have for every year: go out with a few friends and anyone else who they decide to bring (I honest to God do not care who shows up as long as they aren't one of three people I will punch in the face on sight and aren't assholes). We will most likely go out for dinner somewhere (again, doesn't matter where, my favorite restaurant is in Iowa, and it takes a real bitch to make everyone drive to Iowa for your birthday).

Then we will go to the city*, where I will get so drunk one of two things will happen. I will either get drunk enough to think I am the hottest woman in the entire room...nay the entire city, or I will drink until I stop feeling feelings.

Either way, the night ends with my friends dumping my drunk ass off at my place and me waking up with no clue how I got there, or why I have a hickey there. The only thing that could make it better would be a concert where I got to punch someone in the face again.

*I was going to announce the name of the club, but for some personal safety reasons I decided against it. Read: Stalkers ruin the fun for everyone, good job.
However, if you want to know where we're going and want to stop in or tag a long, ping me at TweekerchickQC on AIM or on Gmail, and if you're not stalking me, I'll probably fill you in on the details. If not, that's a big hint that you're the asshole I'm talking about.

Anyway, fun link for Fun!
I give to you: Goths in Hot Weather.
It's exactly what it sounds like. People dressed like Goths in hot weather. Why it's amusing as it is, I can't tell you. But it is.