Job. Interviews.

So, I'm applying for my boss' job. Yup. Hoping to join the ranks of big kids as a manager.

Odds? Completely questionable.

The internal interview process has been, well...extended. And I'm suited (or should I say skirted?) up for the final one. Today.

According to my co-worker, "you look much better wearing what you are today than for your first one and the second one in your wool sweats."

Thanks? You are the BEST at backhanded compliments. And, those aren't sweats. The waistband rarely fits and they were expensive. Asshole.

In good news, I'm fairly certain I'll be able to keep a smile on my face as I just saw a woman moon most of 4th avenue. At first I wasn't sure it was a woman ass I had just seen . In fact, I kinda thought it was a dude's UNTIL I looked again (yes, I stare at car crashes, and anything vaguely grotesque: I consider it to be one of my human "conditions") and I saw her flashing her tits for everyone on 4th. So it's a chick. Nice. Awesome. I saw multiple people do U-turns on the sidewalk.

And yup, I laughed out loud. Like a guttural belly-laugh. I'm resigned to the fact that I'm going to hell, so it only seemed appropriate. In fairness, I know this woman is most likely severely mentally ill (or just awesome!) and I wish her all the best in her pursuits. And I thank her unjudgingly (I may have made this word up) and unconditionally for putting a smile on my face today.

Wish me luck. Please.