It was only over a tasty dinner tonight with Zoomspouse that I realised that my attire during this morning's second (less stupid) interview with my potential employers actually consisted of some of their own merchandise. Oh yes, that's right. I did my interview in my jimjams.

I usually sleep in this particular company's tshirt because its delightful shade of blue matches my pyjama bottoms. I wonder, had I been wise enough to notice, would my interviewer have been amused to learn that I was promoting their company even while being interviewed. Hell, even while sleeping. This mysterious Unnamed Company now has at least six new virile men as customers solely because of my choice in bedclothes. They'd be absolute morons not to hire me. Actually I'm surprised they've gotten as far as they have without me. Losers. I don't know why I've bothered. Screw them, I'm sleeping naked tonight.

ANECDONTE

I forgot to tell you all (because I was painting the kitchen ALL THE TIME) that K and I were out driving on the N4 recently and when we stopped at the traffic lights, we noticed that the contents of the boot of the car in front of us were moving. That's because the contents were a dog, and a GOAT. Just, like, dogging and goating around, back there, in the boot, all like, together and shit. I was like whoah no way a dog and a goat that's like totally cool and K was like totally yeah and then he was like man I am so wasted and I was like me too let's get a burger and he was all oh no crap we've crashed and I was all like this sucks let's go home.

So, we had a painting party! Fifteen friends came over armed with brushes and rollers and chirpy attitudes and we lashed into the hall, stairs and landing, the front spare bedroom (one of the nine spare rooms) and the kitchen. We also spruced up the front of this kip with a coat on the hall door and on the windowsills. The kitchen has now been styled to look like the bridge on Star Trek: The Next Generation. I'm very, very embarassed about it. I don't know how how it happened. You start sticking buttons, foam and pipecleaners on the sideboard and BOOM you're in space with a bald dude and a bunch of jumpsuits. What's worse than the Star Trek themed kitchen is the hand painted portrait of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that we were given as a gift. She's dressed as the virgin Mary in it. The guy who painted it is a pervert. Yes. So we are his only friends. We ate a lot of pizza and we drank a lot of paint. I mean Coke and beer. We listened to rubbish music and we sang along in a range of different keys. It was hard work and it was a lot of fun. A fat thank you to all who helped. And to all who didn't, well drink up now because there's no water where your soul's headed.

Neuro out. Bed beckons. In a creepy voice. Must obey.

neuro-praxis -- Making Awkward Sexual Advances, Not War