It’s amazing the one-eighties life throws at you. I just had two of the best days in recent memory, the perfect antidote to the preceding shitty moods.

I went on a date last night, the closest to a real old-fashioned date as a queer New Yorker can probably get these days. A certain someone made me an amazing vegetarian dinner, complete with red wine (the white probably would have been a better choice). We watched The Apprentice–the first episode I’ve seen since season one–and then a portion of two different horror flicks, both of which were turned off because they were lame. (For the record, that would be Exorcist: The Beginning and House of 1000 Corpses.) It was great, we really hit it off, and I guesssssss we’ll just see what happens. (Since you’ll most likely end up reading this, thank you again.)

So, already happy about that, I had a chat with my district manager this morning. We’ve been doing a lot of work to get my promoted, and I wanted a check-up with him. I knew I had a pre-requisite class to do in mid-November, and my promotion was probably supposed to come up January or February after the holiday madness ends. Anyway, to get to the point, my store manager comes up to me and he says “You know you have your interview on November 20th, right?” And I go, “What? I’m doing the mock interview [with the DM] then?” And he says “No, your panel interview.” To fill you in, the panel interview is with a couple different top guns in the city. It’s the final, final, final interview.

This means I’m going to be out of my store, god-willing, TWO MONTHS earlier than I expected.

This means my salary is going to DOUBLE (just about literally) before my 20th birthday.

This means I am going to be the youngest salaried ‘Bucks employee in the city of New York, maybe in the country.

Simply put, PLEASE cross your fingers for me. This is big news. (And big money.)