My orthodontist is great. Really. But sometimes I wonder if she stays up at night dreaming of ways to mess with me. Yesterday she changed the wire on my braces (yowie), and then connected the upper and lower brackets with elastics. In a triangle formation. I look like I have fangs.
Tomorrow I have a job interview; not the company I was really hoping to hear from, but the pay is very good and it offers benefits galore. Just a tad too corporate. But- I'm going. I haven't been on a job interview in 6 years, so I could use the practice: I don't want to flame out in front of someone I really want to work for.
Since I've decided to look for work, I've been interviewing myself. And I'll tell ya I'm quite impressed with me. I'd hire me on the spot, if it weren't for budgetary restraints. I can't afford me right now, but if I call myself back during the next quarter, maybe I can make room for me. I'm definitely keeping my resume on file; I'll give myself a call after the holidays, just to touch base with myself.
So, preparing for the interview: spiffy new shoes? Check. Career separates? Check. New nose ring? Checkarooni.
I swung by Andromeda today to buy a smaller-gauge nose ring. I figured the hoop might be a bit off-putting, so I bought a tiny stud. Which I'm taking right out after the interview (though, perhaps not in the reception area). It occurred to me I might not have enough metal in my head, so I got my ears re-pierced. There are about 8 holes in my ears, all closed. One good yank from Baby Cheburashka and I put the earrings away.
This is probably not an aspect of myself that I want to delve into too deeply (and certainly not here) but I always develop a crush on the person who tattoos or pierces me. FYI, it's all above the waist, people. I'm still harboring a major crush on Frankie, who spent hours tattooing my belly. The guy who worked on me today had nary a bare patch of skin on him (most of his face was tatted), and yet... cute.
I know, its probably all about piercing/tattooing being an intimate act and bonding with the person, blah blah. I prefer a simpler, all-encompassing explanation: I'm a weirdo.
Works for me.
The Peace Fleece cardigan! Both sleeves, done! Back, done! Left front, done! The giant buttons, boughten*! Now I have to work out the cable pattern, and I will be stylin'. I love this yarn. Tough stuff; it will probably pick up the needle and seam itself to show off how tough it is. And I'll let it.
*Once I started a sentence with "I had boughten..." And not when I was a kid- it was last year. In my defense, I was speaking with a friend who creates new words from old. For example, snab: to snatch/grab. Something happens to our brains when we speak; we should record our conversations. Actually, no. We shouldn't.