Andare, Partire, Tornare
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The Evil Joys of Trading Spaces
Caerula has questioned my Doug-love, and rightfully so - after all, he *was* the man who has most ticked me off with his divatude and pose as the Only One With Good Taste In The Room on one particular episode (the one with the stonehenge headboard that aired about a month and a half ago). He hit one of my buttons hard with that little rant he spewed out on the (admittedly very annoying) homeowners.
But.
The man is seriously cute. And my Doug-love was sealed when I saw a repeat of the Two Angies ep (Botox Angie of the blue team, and NotAsAnnoying Angie on the red) when he's captured on the Paige-cam as he's being persuaded to help distract his homeowners for a little sneaking around. Total little mischevious boy grin. I'm a sucker for it.
Vern, I love. He's the better designer, by far, and he's a real sweetpea. He gave Television Without Pity a great interview, too. Were I decorating my home, I'd hire Vern in a flash and just let him take over. But if what I wanted was a carnal adventure, an excursion into the backcountry of lust, a tour guide to passion, well...I'm afraid I have to stick to the Doug.
I think I've been reading too many Jennifer Crusie's recently. I've definitely got sex on the brain.
Spent yesterday decorating the Indiana Room tree, which is part of a 1940's wartime Christmas scenario. The tree looks great - huge colored bulbs, Shiny-Brite ornaments, tinsel, and those funny ornaments that look hideous when you're holding them in your hand, but somehow work so well once you actually put them up on the branches.
Problems with my resume. None of the three templates available to me look right at all, and they all format strangely. FlirtyFeminist suggested just creating your own format, and showed me her own, which is modeled after a CV and looks very nice. Very crisp and understandable, although it's not laid out like a traditional resume at all. I may just use hers as a model and make a few tweaks to personalize it. But I've got to get moving on it so I can schlep it over to National Gallery as soon as I can. I don't want some snot-nosed little college student beating me to this job, leaving me ankle deep in soap suds with a hysterical cocker spaniel wrapped around my sodden legs.
What Type Of Retro Gal Are You?
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Exotic, huh? Not so you'd notice.
8:24 a.m. - 2002-11-26
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