And God Bless Mommy, and Daddy, and All My Evil Henchmen

Well, the Samwise has once more returned to the vehicular land of the living. He's fully driveable, though it looks as if he were engaged in a bout of fisticuffs with another car. He may have something of a shiner, but you should see the other guy.

Last night, Shane and I went out to the Bigfoot for beer and conversation, which was fun. I got some of the philosophical conversation of which I had been starved for the past couple months. 'Twas good.

I'm still waiting to hear back on the interview prospects, though I maintain high hopes. It would certainly be an interesting experience, to say the least. Other than that, nothing especially interesting has occurred...at least, not that's worth talking about.

If it's any consolation, I hates that rascally rabbit too.

Okay, so yesterday was quite good. I had the interview for the technical writing position, and it appeared to go quite well. This pleases me. The work environment seems very positive there, and the work promises to be interesting. I don't have the job yet, but I should know by the end of the week. Needless to say, I am quite excited. The only downside was that due to the aforementioned car accident, my own vehicle was out of commission, so I had to make do with Ryan's car. It, unlike Samwise, is a somewhat temperamental beasty, so I had to make the drive downtown with my fingers crossed. In many ways, I see that car much like the Millenium Falcon, in that I can see why Ryan likes it, but at the same time it really is a hunk of junk. All the way down Division, I felt myself saying "hold together, baby" in my best Harrison Ford impersonation. It was definitely harrowing. However, I made it with only minor incident (it died at an intersection. I was able to restart it though), and the interview went quite smoothly, as related above.

In other news, I finished Elizabeth Kostova's The Historian the other day, and I have to say that it is one of the most satisfying pieces of vampire fiction I have ever read. Indeed, I might go so far as to lump it in a category all its own so as to further delineate it from its lesser cousins. Unlike many tales of Dracula, The Historian has such a feel of historical authenticity to it that one could almost believe that the events related actually occurred. Furthermore, Kostova's conception of Dracula is far more sophisticated than the usual goth industrial metal-head who lives only for physical pleasure. Kostova's Dracula is an aesthete of the highest order, who is highly intelligent, and is all the more menacing for it. His minions are not idiotic teenagers who spend their time in trashy night clubs, but rather diligent scholars in their own rights who are in turn pursuing immortality for themselves. Upon reading the novel, one is immediately aware that Kostova has done her homework, as she delves deeply into the realms of history with a practiced ease that only comes from long research. So yeah, check it out. I haven't spoiled anything for you, so you have no excuse to miss out on this one.

It's true!

Okay, this is true. I admit to the occasional blogger's vanity.

Wait a minute, you're in the hallway, aren't you?

Well, yesterday was interesting. The mechanics didn't call, so I was once more without automotive means of transport. I had to rely upon the two long dangly things below my hips. Thus, I made the five-mile hike to the library and then the bookstore, if for no other reason than that I needed a break. I ended up picking up The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova (see previous posts). I got home and dove into a delightful fictional world, just in time to be interrupted by brats at the door asking for candy. As you may or may not be aware, yesterday was All Hallow's Eve. I however, had conveniently forgotten this fact, specifically as it relates to the procurement of candy, and so had none to offer to the juvenile spooks that arrived at my door. Thinking fast, I offered up "Pearls of Wisdom," namely any cheap-ass platitudes that I could readily think of. As a result, I was on the receiving end of many a glassy-eyed pre-pubescent stare. Hey, I think that words of wisdom by which to live one's life are treats of the best sort, okay! After a while, though, I decided to forgo the interruption and just not answer the door. Given that the lights were on, our erstwhile visitors would arrive at one of two conclusions: a) that the inhabitant of our domecile is a complete and utter lout who could not be troubled to turn out the lights before leaving; or b) the inhabitant of our domecile is a crotchety curmudgeon who does not care to be interrupted in his activities. Given the quality of my interactions with the neighbors, I really could care less which conclusion our visitors settled upon.
In other news, I have a job interview downtown about a job as a technical writer. I hope this goes well. More news on that later. Hope all is well with my readers, whoever they may be.

The Good Die First, but Everybody is Morally Ambiguous, Which Explains The Random Death Pattern

After the nightmarish scenario of Thursday, things got a little better for the weekend. Friday night, Aaron and I hung out with his grandparents and ate salmon. Saturday was game day as usual, which was quite good. Sunday saw me lounging around the flat in my pajamas and a bathrobe watching the History Channel. And only one of the shows dealt with WWII! The others were basically paranormal historical incidents (zombies, ghosts, random disappearances, lost continents, conspiracies, aliens, that sort of thing). Missing my UnEx fix, this was welcome. In the evening, Justin came over and we watched some MST3k, as is our practices, this time the flick Teenagers from Outer Space, and by teenagers we mean "late twenty-somethings." At any rate, I sit here without a car and await a call from the mechanics, who may or may not have an automobile for me.