Next subject! I was plagued by the inevitable stink-o dreams last night. For some reason, Ludie keeps creeping in & delighting the senses with her cameos. This too sounds nasty. But she's a good girl, and for some reason I have the sort of dreams where people pop in on the side - and sort of wave, like I'm taking their picture in front of a landmark, monument, or billboard. Ludie was waving - in front of another beach scene - but thank God, no boobies. No boobies for Coobies!
No one has called today for interviews, save Office Something-or-other about some Office Clerk thingy. I called back & left a message. I CALLED BACK AND LEFT A MESSAGE AND THAT HOODRAT HASN'T EVEN RETURNED MY RETURNING PHONE CALL. It is in this sort of an emergency that one finds oneself deciding that one should lower one's newly degree-acquired brain and really buy into all that horseshit people have been telling one for years - i.e. "You should be a model!" One might think that since one was 16, one might have said, "No no no." whilst in one's head, "You should eat dirt for the nutrients!" Anyway, the fact that one is considering this sort of hoo to the motherfuckin haa means that one is hoo to the motherfuckin desperate. And shallow! Mmm.
While I was sweating up a small hurricane at the gym, I was stuck reading ESPN magazine. It was entertaining - more so than some architecture magazine which! was! all! articles! What! the! hell! kind! of! magazine! is! that!?! Anyway, I read about a Memphis-bound (NBA recruit) highschooler that was on his way to the prom, and mid-entrance, he realized he left his date back at the car. Hee hee hee. I love a good vanity story.
Also at the gym, I saw a woman who was stuck in 1987 with black striped lycra bike shorts with multi-colored flowers sprinkled all about them. She was trying to impress me with her stretching, I think. Lots of difficult, ballet-looking moves. And then she lost her balance & I saw them stripey-stripes right up gasoline alley. I swear, the people at the gym are the most retarded. This woman who likes to fondle some man at the Bookstore was leisurely peddling on the bike - on her lunch hour, methinks - and she wasn't doing jackshit. She kept throwing the stinkeye like it hurt, though.
Alas! Maybe tomorrow promises cheese jobs and more jerky. Please send jerky - need job now.