Monday, December 08, 2003

Blue Eyes told me he was reading a book he thought I might like. It's Miles Davis's autobiography. And he was right. I smiled and laughed through the Prologue. "Motherfucker" is repeated so many times that you might confuse it with someone actually fucking their mother. I like Blue Eyes somewhat more than, say, a squirrel carcass ... okay, a lot more than that. But when I see him and Ham Hock together ... I become a moping machine. Ah well, I just hope he approaches me more than I do him because I do not want the blame for furthering any cracks in his current relationship (which I doubt exists, but one can always hope).

I went for my CO-OP interview at the Spectator today. I think I nailed it (but then again, I already see myself as a natural at that). Mr. H., the interviewer, asked me if I would be interested in the production (editing and layout) portion of the newspaper, which is something I'd rather do than be a loony reporter in a town full of incredibly lame stories ("I collect bottle caps"). The two girls behind me didn't stand a chance: one was overweight and dressed to the negative nines, while the other killed a Yeti for her coat. Okay, okay. So I'm just in a competitive spirit right now. I mean, they could've been thinking, "Damn girl, where yo skirt be at? Brothel's that way" for all I know, as I walked by.

Today's slogan: No one can feel as helpless as the owner of a sick goldfish.

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