Spiked Apple Berry? Plausible.

So I was just ranting on and on about the vacation I was planning when ironically, I got word that I am in for an interview with a particular company I was waiting to hear from, these past few days. Actually, I only sent out three applications, prior to getting the "on-call" shit that my old company came out with. One of those, is this one. I wasn't actively looking for a job, mind you. I just wanted to test the water cuz I'm gangster, yo. Hahahahah! I'm cracking myself up!

God, I'm so lame.

They wanted to meet in Starbucks, which, understandably, raised an alarm inside my head. The first thing I thought was,maybe it's an entrapment operation instigated by the NBI. Should I call my lawyer? Because I know I won't be able to explain myself about the whole porn thing.

I know, I know, I'm paranoid but when you write porn in a Sarado-Katoliko third world country like oh, I dunno, the Philippines, that might get you arrested. Surviving four NBI raids will do that to you, I guess.



So I hurriedly consulted my sister about it and as it turns out, some companies really does that sort of thing and I felt relieved. Luckily, the venue that they chose was an old haunt of mine so I got there just in time to sit in the midst of non-stop muttering conyos until my ears bled. As I sat down, I got a call from a guy named Paul. Now, I'm only pointing this out because I thought I was being punk'd.

Polgas in action

You see, Iwebmasters was only a stone's throw away from where I was sitting and coincidentally, the HR head, who is a dear friend of mine, is also named Paul. I don't know where I got the idea that maybe Paul (not the guy who called me) was playing tricks on me (I wouldn't put it past him, that old brat!). Waiting for the company suits to arrive, all I could think about was, if this guy turns out to be Paul Ruiz and he's playing a trick on me I swear to God, I will kick him in the nuts and not even Joanne (his girlf) can save him from my mind-bending ninja kick!!!

Thank heavens all these were just a product of my hyper-active imagination. Whew.

For the most part, the interview was okay. My only gripe was that I think I talked way too much about things I probably shouldn't. I have a tendency to chatter away non-stop about the most inane things I could think off when I'm nervous. Well, it's been a long time since my last interview so that's probably another thing. Ghad. And I decided to wear my "retainerds" which made me slur my words like I'm piss drunk or something. Also, I discovered that speaking in English, for a long period of time, made my head hurt. I was also, for some weird reason, laughing like a God-forsaken hyena. It was a mess on my end and I can't even begin to think what the hell was up with me that time. I'm blaming my Apple Berry drink, I'm positive somebody spiked it with bourbon and fairy dust lack of sleep.

Well too bad. Truth be told, I probably won't tear myself to pieces if I don't get the job (no matter how promising it sounded) because I learned a long time ago that I should never keep my hopes up when it comes to this kind of situation. I'm thinking of it this way, if I get the job, yay, something to look forward to when I get back from my vacation. If I don't get the job, hell, I'd still be on a fucking vacation, yo. See? Win-win, paaare.