JOB HUNTING

My new approach to getting a job entails making everyone think that I could beat them up, and turning them on by doing so.
Dressed in black, I'm off to temporarily sell my soul to a bar or two who are lauded for the plethora of underage drunken girls that frequent for the two-dollar Tuesday drink specials.

I'd say wish me luck, but I'm such a fucking babe that I don't need it.

Good luck to you, then.

YOU CAN'T BE ME, I'M A ROCK STAR

I look like Billy Idol. But like, hotter.


I was positively ALARMED by all of the young and impressionable, long and blonde-haired female heads that turned my way today. I'm thinking that this is the beginning of a good thing.

This is how it all went down:

Day Zero

Today I sought yet another job as a bartender. Luck I had not, but I DID manage to get a new library membership! Now I sit and wait as the hour nears 9, at which point I will saunter up the street to see the 70's Gothic tale, The Stepford Wives. I am trying to contain my excitement but cannot.

First, if you have seen the contemporary Nicole Kidman re-make and it induced dry-heaving, know that you are not alone. That film is an abomination.

HOWEVER- 90 minutes of Katharine Ross is worth your while. Have I mentioned how much I love her? Perhaps not, considering this is only my second post. In part, I think it's because she looks a lot like my mother. I like to imagine my mom in her total babe days ripping it up as a bra burner and aspiring photographer... I'm not sure if this reassures me that all yuppies were once hippies, or if it is merely a reminder of the inevitability of my personal fate as a sell-out with a fucking amazing shoe and handbag collection. Regardless, look at how cute she is:



She is making instant coffee. The only person in the world from whom I would accept a cup of instant coffee is Katharine Ross circa 1975.