It gots to be that way sometimes

So... you know how I was all chatting about how awesome I am at interviews? Yeah. I'm seriously fucking awesome when it comes to interviews.

I've been given that job... that job that I clearly have no idea how to do. It's either my winning personality or my 'lovely lady lumps' that lead to this development. I'm hoping it was the latter factor because they are going to realise soon enough that my interviewee personality is merely a front and I'm really quite a mardy bitch that would rather read and smoke than willingly interact with anyone.

However, I think this is all proof (if indeed more proof were needed) that my life is in fact just a rubbish sitcom. A rubbish sitcom punctuated by long spells of me just sitting down. I get 27 minutes or so of interesting shit happening every week (not all at the same time... obviously. My little heart probably couldn't take that) which, when added together, must make up some kind of wacky prime-time formulaic comedy show for the masses to have on in the background while they do this week's ironing.

To illustrate the point... today someone at work demonstrated how to play the bagpipes on a ruler. With an extremely disturbing amount of sincerity. That sort of shit don't happen any place but in the title sequences of awful mid-90's sitcoms starring Nicolas Lyndhurst. Surely?

But anyway, I've sort of seen this as a sign that I am in fact one of those people that's always going to land on their feet. This is a difficult equation to process but, especially seeing as my birthday came and went with, actually, a large amount of fun I think it might just be something I'm going to have to get used to. Plus, it wasn't just common-or-garden drunken japes fun, it was proper fun spent with all the people in the world that are most important to me right now. And they all got on. And everyone (said they had) enjoyed themselves. That's weird for me... a non-stressful, delightful, birthday week at a time when I'm quite happy with myself and the way my life is going? Qu'est-ce que c'est? I think the weirdestly weird thing was that after all my bellyaching about turning 25, when it came down to it, it's kind of nice being 25. This only hit me as my brother turned 21 a couple weeks previously, which brought back all the memories of my 21st... in a dingy mingy little rock club, not really knowing anyone, throwing up in a toilet cubicle, being desperately unhappy about thee fact that I didn't understand myself or the world around me, being more unhappy because I didn't actually realise this was the cause of my unhappiness and constantly thinking I was some kind of freak... none of those things now apply (well, I've just come to terms with the freak part these days). Not being emo anymore. How much of a relief is that?