Foolish Pride

I've been listening to a lot of torch songs recently. Must be the weather or something.

Happy Freakin Halloween

8 Ways To Sunday

Ingmar tagged me for this meme a while back. So here they are:

1. To this day, I find still find The Exorcist too terrifying to watch.

2. As a child, I used to pinch the bridge of my nose in the vain hope that it wouldn't grow flat.

3. I got to strut around on stage in a purple toga as Pontius Pilate in my high school's production of Andrew Lloyd Weber's Jesus Christ Superstar.

4. I've used the word incandescent to describe several of my moods and yet I can't work out a way to introduce the phrase "cooter slam" into my daily lexicon.

5. I'm a poor aural learner. When listening intently to someone speak I have a tendency to look away in order to concentrate.

6. It took me about a year to REALLY get over my last relationship.

7. I 'shop' for West Village apartments and brownstones on my lunch breaks.

8. I dragged my parents to go see Priscilla: Queen of the Desert on my 14th birthday. And they LOVED it.

Out on a Limb With Fingers Outstretched

So the past few weeks I've found myself in the same situation over and over again. Dressed immaculately with my hair done just so, a half smile on my face and doing all I can to exude the easygoing charm and confidence of a functional, competent and engaging human being while at the same time subjugating the multitude of neuroses and that creeping feeling of inadequacy that all overachievers are invariably saddled with. The smalltalk tends to be my undoing. I've never quite mastered the art of chit chat, a skill that mid-western women seem to possess in great abundance. I can't help but marvel when I hear them on the street or as they are being led to their table at a restaurant.

"Oh, where am I going? This is nice. Look at those candles, aren't they just spectacular. Are the tables mahogany or oak? Do I turn left? Is Nancy behind you Fred? I'm so hungry. I'm glad we found this place. Have you been open long? We don't have to walk too far to get back to the hotel....."

And they just keep on going. Always ready to produce a cordial, anodyne white noise of pithy observations, rhetorical questions, cheerful slogans and excerpts from their inner monologue.

But I digress.

I want this person to like me. To remember me. To call me. I am doing my best to be myself. Well, the witty, intriguing, little sparkle shine out of my smile self. I want to do this right and I know I have to believe. And if it doesn't work out, I have to go right out and put myself out there again. Somethings gotta stick, right?

Job interviews suck.

Melancholy Never Felt So Good

I've Been Busy

Things have been hectic. I'm gonna get back on the regular posting wagon real soon.

Will Somebody Take Me To This?

Crazy Talk

I guess the Iranian government is doing a great job at executing it's gays.

Bespoke - Part I

I was sitting in the subway the other night thinking about the start of YET another school year and it dawned on me that in less than two years I'll have accumulated 5 freaking degrees. Now having lots of fancy letters next to one's name is all well and good but it's all got to lead to something right? So with next summer's crucial intern recruiting session looming, I've decided to put my heart and soul into getting the best job possible, or at the very least one that will sustain my rampant sybarism (we all need to sublimate our rage somehow right?). As a first step, I've made appointments with the school career people to help sort out my resume and arranged to have a whole pile of business cards printed out.

Now here comes the crazy bit.

I've decided that a fundamental component of my job search arsenal will be a bespoke suit. Thats right, a unique, hand made suit made entirely to my specifications. Now granted, its going to cost the same as the per capita GDP of Cuba but part of the reason for this particularly obscene indulgence is the fact that standing at a towering 5'5 and weighing 120 pounds (or a 165cms and 54kgs) means that there isn't an off-the-rack suit in New York that actually fits me. I am also insane. But I figure, nothing inspires and communicates confidence and competence more than an exquisite suit that fits perfectly.

My suit is going to be made by Duncan Quinn and the dapper fellow below is going to be my tailor.


I'll keep you guys posted throughout the fittings and such!

Beth Ditto Shows Britney How It's Done