Beginning

We'll start with a hope, I think.
I've got an interview tomorrow - a second interview, and it's practically my dream job. I'm shaking in my bare feet. It's late, and I need to get to bed, but more likely I'll stay up a bit longer, and try and distract myself with fic, and try not to get lost in yet another game of Imperialism 2, and it all hinges on tomorrow.
Will I need to stop looking for work?
Hope. Prayer, maybe - no, definitely. I need an end to this not knowing.

Attack of the muses

<Methos> We need to get you drunk.
<Me> Do not!
<Alex> She's got gin and vodka in the freezer, and a single hard lemonade. What'll it be?
<Me> I have to get up early tomorrow! Like, before 10!
<Methos> Vodka it is. Grab the Coke and limes, she won't drink it straight.
<Alex> What I wouldn't give for some tequila.
<Me> Not unless you have margarita mix.
<Methos> See - she's not drunk enough yet. We need to get her to the point where she's suggesting body shots.
<Me> You can't do body shots off of fictional characters. So there.
<Alex> Not true.
<Me> So make me write it!
<Alex> What, and give you more ideas you won't finish?
<Me> I finished the last one.
<Methos> Good writer. You get a drink. Coke, a splash of vodka and lime.
<Me, small voice> Can I eat the lime quarters after I squeeze them?
<Alex> Yes, dear.