September 2006
11 posts
Self?
Reality bites.
Last night it took much convincing to get fiancé to join me in watching “Dancing with the Stars” (which I had never seen but assumed it to be my new favorite show). I used persuasive bullet points like: 1. It’s just like “So you think you can dance” only BETTER. 2. The show is, like, 30 minutes long. 3. Jerry Springer is one of the contestants. Hello. I knew I was in trouble when the show opened...
So you think you can...Can-Can.
Friday night I joined some of my favorite Seattle people in a burlesque variety show called Le Risqué at the Can Can. I was in only one 3 minute-ish number. But thankfully the amount of dances one performs in a show has no relation to the amount of make-up one can get away with wearing. And sparkles, stockings, pearls, satin gloves, rhinestones, fishnets, fake eyelashes, ribbons and more sparkles....
Go get my purse, Mickey...
…lock the door, Mickey. “I like a girl who eats and brings it up. A sassy little frassy with bulimia. Her best friend’s a plastic surgeon and when her beamer’s in the shop she rolls the Benz. Manis and pedis on Sundays and Wednesdays money from mommy lovely in Versace. Costly sprees it’s on at Barney’s and I love to watch her go through fifty G’s calmly.” Hear...
SNACKOPHOBIA**
In the glamour-ish life as a copywriter, one often finds themselves searching for just the right word or, in yesterday’s case, just the right phobia to pay off a lame joke. Did you know that there is a phobia for everything? There is even a phobia for phobias—phobophobia. WARNING: If you have ever been diagnosed with phobophobia do not read the following blog. If accidentally read, please dial the...
Blog Schmlog.
Last night I tried a new boredom remedy: hog tying the boredom, dragging it face down through sharp gravel to Capital Hill, stuffing a mammoth pretzel in boredom’s mouth and then drowning it in a troth of German Beer. And by golly that shit WORKED! Somewhere in my salty, beery haze I volunteered a list of my top 10 most favoritest websites, blogs and funnies. PS: I kinda wish all of my bloggy...
New job update! You asked for it!
Actually, no one asked for it. But here it is. My initial bout of ExtremeBoredom™ was instantly cured with 20 CC’s of vitamin work-your-ass-off -all-weekend. Unfortunately it aligned perfectly with when I had to move. So I guiltily went back and forth trying to work and move at the same time. Then come Monday morning—boredom reared its mousy, turtle-necked head again. It is now slow. Like,...
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Think is the new pink.
Political-agenda-free, I thought that this post on PITNB gives a reminder of Sept. 11th that anyone can self-apply. I urge you to clickety-click. Click here.
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Oh. By the way, betch.
OMG shoes. Oh.
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Day 1, Hour 8.
12:04 – Lunch with creative department. “Hi. My name is Jessica. I’m not 17.” 12:36 – Delicious turkey sandwich. Commence digestion. 1:40 – Back at agency. 1:41 – More boorish boring behavior that looks suspiciously like boredom begins. It is now past 5. All blogs have been read. Bills paid. Inquiries googled. News caught up. I even learned how to make drapes and I signed up for voice lessons....
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Day 1, Hour 3.
Today is my first day at the new Seattle agency. For fear of getting dooced, I’m going to resist my urge to reveal details. However, I can say that the shop is in SODO right by the stadiums. First word. Two syllables. Rhymes with “pedgwick”. Second word. One syllable. Rhymes with “toad”. Everyone I’ve met seems really cool. And if this whole thing doesn’t work out, I’ll just start my own agency...
