Andare, Partire, Tornare

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Saturday lazy day ramblings about nothing and everything

Second entry of the day - see my previous entry for some interesting discussion on Christmas traditions. Well, I think it's interesting, anyway. So go read it, ya punks.

Despite the fact that he turns his nose up at chicken-flavored hairball remedy, my cat is, as I type, licking plain Vaseline off my fingers. He is a strange beast indeed.

I really have to stop this lusting after unattainable men. What would it take to get Doug from Trading Spaces to come over for a little…erm…private design study session? He may be a bitch-diva, but the man has a great smile. And he fills out a pair of jeans verrrry nicely.

Work at the dog salon is becoming more and more dreary. I have resigned myself to the fact that I really and truly dislike the people I work with, despite the fact that most of them do have their good points. But even the ones who genuinely like the animals they work with (and this is not the majority, I must say) have quirks that really and truly bug me. Like the fact that they’re supposed to be managing the salon, and yet can’t look up on the board to see that the two cats that need to be done by three haven’t been touched, and oops, there’s the owner, and now *I* have to tell them that the cats aren’t done despite the fact that they’ve been here since seven am…

But on the good news front, the exhibition aid position has FINALLY been posted to the National Gallery website, so it means that on Monday, I will be sealing up my little resume (which I am even now updating) and sending it off post-haste to the bigwigs there. And then I will proceed to wait. Because, dontchaknow, these jobs take a whole lot of time to get. I’ll need to get a background check, too! Gee, hope they don’t turn up that incident with the Kremlin. And the kielbasa smuggling ring.

A big shout out to my little sis – 1400 on her SAT’s! Bitchin’!

Finally saw a movie I’ve been panting to catch for a while now. Alas, it was the highly edited, no-profanity-allowed version they aired on Bravo. The movie was “The Professional,” staring a 12 year old Natalie Portman, Jean Reno, and Gary Oldman, with Luc Besson directing. Very cool, very stylish, very strange, and very compelling, about the relationship between a very odd hitman and a young girl who has her family wiped out by a corrupt cop in a drug deal gone bad. Now I have to go out and get “Leon,” which is the European cut, to see how it compares. I want to own my own copy, which is not usually an impulse I get with movies.

I’ve been feeling like I want to write a song recently. But I don’t have any lyrics springing to mind, and I don’t know how to format lyrics so they scan correctly when sung. Are there lyric-writing workshops out there, like there are for poets? The Bemo has expressed interest in attending one to hone his craft (he’s written quite a few songs, ranging from “eh” to “whoa, cool.” Maybe I should post the lyrics to one of them…but then I’m not sure how that might play in any copyright thing, should he ever hit it big and need to fight sleazy corporate music lawyers for his royalties. And anyway, the song I was thinking of quoting needs the music for the full impact.

Gadzooks, it’s late. I’ve been up all frigging day, and now I need to pack it in. Bed is calling me. Zzzzzz.

11:54 p.m. - 2002-11-23

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