Sweet&Sour/Hot&Spicy (And H. Mancini)
Strangely, just when I decided I wouldn't dress up as a proper miss for interviews anymore they started pouring on me. Just today I went to one, a potential customer that manages several of your most familiar fast food joints. My outfit: gray light woolen skirt (very nice), Nine West high heeled shoes (very uncomfortable), and a 40th Anniversary Pink Panther black shirt. A very nice cotton half-sleeve with the Pink Panther blowing the candles on his (her?) cake, $120.00 off the rack, thanks very much.
Why are clothes so important? Why does it matter what we cover our nudity with? Why do I now feel the need to blog about really stupid things, like the stuff I'm wearing?
I've become convinced there's something I'm doing very wrong during interviews. I get called frequently enough so I conclude my resume is not the problem. I know it has something to do with the way I look; my refusal to wear makeup isn't helping me. But it isn't only a question of principle, damnit. I have delicate skin.
Oh man, a thought just struck me: what if I have a bizarrely distorted perception of myself and I'm actually hideous? Maybe I'm fugly in reality and I just can't see it.
hm. Nah, don't think so.
Anyway, there's something I'm doing wrong. I know all the potential do's and don'ts, and I try to apply them, but what the hell, I guess I don't care enough to do a very good job of spreading the old cow manure. And honestly, I think my former physical discomfort made me feel even phonier. So I sent most of the attire to hell and tried to wear more comfortable shit.
Like Pink Panther T-shirts. If they don't like it, they can kiss my ass.
And the quote I wish to adopt today is: "I am the victim of a willful and unique God. Instead of praying for me, He went nightclubbing." It's my translation, so if it doesn't make sense, it's my fault entirely.
And by the way: my brother has a disease that was most widely spread among WWI soldiers , known as the Trench Disease, or something like that. It's not exactly boring, but I was still disappointed it wasn't vampirism.
Word. Listen to some good music; it makes everything so much better. And by the way: which is Led Zeppelin's most tripped out album? Think about it.
Why are clothes so important? Why does it matter what we cover our nudity with? Why do I now feel the need to blog about really stupid things, like the stuff I'm wearing?
I've become convinced there's something I'm doing very wrong during interviews. I get called frequently enough so I conclude my resume is not the problem. I know it has something to do with the way I look; my refusal to wear makeup isn't helping me. But it isn't only a question of principle, damnit. I have delicate skin.
Oh man, a thought just struck me: what if I have a bizarrely distorted perception of myself and I'm actually hideous? Maybe I'm fugly in reality and I just can't see it.
hm. Nah, don't think so.
Anyway, there's something I'm doing wrong. I know all the potential do's and don'ts, and I try to apply them, but what the hell, I guess I don't care enough to do a very good job of spreading the old cow manure. And honestly, I think my former physical discomfort made me feel even phonier. So I sent most of the attire to hell and tried to wear more comfortable shit.
Like Pink Panther T-shirts. If they don't like it, they can kiss my ass.
And the quote I wish to adopt today is: "I am the victim of a willful and unique God. Instead of praying for me, He went nightclubbing." It's my translation, so if it doesn't make sense, it's my fault entirely.
And by the way: my brother has a disease that was most widely spread among WWI soldiers , known as the Trench Disease, or something like that. It's not exactly boring, but I was still disappointed it wasn't vampirism.
Word. Listen to some good music; it makes everything so much better. And by the way: which is Led Zeppelin's most tripped out album? Think about it.
posted by gaby san at
2/23/2005 12:52:00 AM
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