Friday, January 27, 2006


I've been really busy doing research for my two feature-length articles lately. One of them requires recruitment from friends and acquaintances on 4 continents. It's on speed-dating and I convinced people from Montreal (CA), Hamilton (CA), Paris (FR), London (UK), and Tokyo (JP) to attend a local event and report back to me. Melbourne (AU) and Hong Kong (CN) are still up in the air. Yah for foreigners!

*UPDATE* NorIda convinced me to attend an event because getting a first-hand account is an integral part of this (increasingly expensive) job. That didn't stop me from imploring DaDutch to be my date within a date though.

The second article is on Burger King's new subversive ad featuring Brooke Burke cavorting candidly on the beach with the giant plastic-headed guy in tow. The manager of their ad agency Crispin Porter + Bogusky (CP+B) has agreed to be interviewed by me.

Besides that, I'm hungry and could go for a burger right about now, but remembered that though I see myself as a carnivore in relapse (or perhaps a vegetarian with no moral compass), I'm still not capable of sticking a patty in my mouth made from the 'hinds of separate cow parts without slitting my wrists and calling out in penance to the Archangel Gabriel ("You make tofurkey up there?").


I know the comments I make in class get me noticed. It's not intentional, but the effects are -- shall we say? -- perceptible. JaiHimbo is painfully handsome and well-liked by the ladies which, of course, means he's a freak. Max recently told me her film production partner is also breathtakingly "brilliant! Just brilliant!" I doubt that. No freak is brilliant unless he's wearing diamond grills on his teeth. Bling. It. On.

Anyway, I never paid any attention to him (considering my aversion to gifted genetics) until last week when we were watching Hitchcock's The Lady Vanishes (1938) and he lowered his head over me and took a whiff. Several, actually. I mean, you would have to get pretty damn close to someone for them to feel your breath on their scalp. I initially thought it was a fluke, but when I constantly felt him on the back of my neck, shoulder, for a good 2-hours, I started to suspect something really sinister: I have sinfully good-smelling hair. Say what you will, lemon puss. Sure, mes cheveux might technically be more reminiscent of an Italian restaurant during cutbacks, but what can I say? Somebody obviously doesn't mind. Thank you Fructis. Goodbye unhealthy pursuits.

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