I like bartenders who drink, otherwise it feels like I'm being poisoned

I have a job interview next Wednesday, unless something changes, which wouldn't surprise me. I got the call last week, on the 23rd, while wrapping presents, from the very same company which had called me a month ago with promises of an interview the next week. So either they've interviewed 14 million applicants already and haven't found 'the one' yet, or this is a job which is permanently open. I don't know. So, anyway, I'm supposed to call Monday to confirm and get details, and then Wednesday's the big show. I'm still not 100% sure what the job entails, but I do know the following: I'd get paid well, I'd work in a tall building that I can see from my apartment on a clear day, and the commute would be great: walk block to train, take train downtown, walk another block.

I'm a bit nervous about the interview, and it's kept me up at night lately. I haven't had much experience on that front, and sometimes I suspect that I'm somewhat lacking in such valuable interview skills as "charisma", "confidence", "the ability to speak English", and "personal hygiene."

Aside from that, Christmas was good, got to see family and friends and got lots of gifts, including 7 books, 2 DVDs, 2 pair of pants, Scrabble, and a vacuum cleaner. The vacuum cleaner is something I asked for myself, which I think shows a level of maturity I never thought possible. It's designed to replace our old one with the fraying cord, lack of mobility, and a noise so ferocious that it sends M scurrying on top of the furniture like a house cat. I was promised a new vacuum cleaner would bring us closer to chore parity, but still remain skeptical.

Scrabble has already caused problems of its own; last night our first ever game ended abruptly when the person who was losing by 115 points quit and complained that it was unfair to play when she was post-call, and that if we played another time the other person (who was at that time not only dominating but also holding both blank tiles and ready to drop an 8 letter word) would get his illiterate ass handed to him. I'm not going to say who was who, that wouldn't be fair.

Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and for the first time in ten years or so I won't be at a party of any sort. It's rather sad. To make matters more depressing, M is on call that night, which also happens to be her 26th birthday, so for the the 26th time in 26 New Year's Eves I won't be kissing at midnight. I'm sure that's the saddest thing you have ever heard in your entire life.