Nerd Alert

Bent My Wookie
Bland Canyon
Face Hunter
Fruit Loops and Porn
Gay Sky Hooker
Go Fug Yourself
Inhibitory Links
Intergalactic Hussy
John Howard: PM
Ms Hairy Legs
Much Ado About Sumthin
Momo Freaks Out
Not a Turtle
Queer Penguin
Sheets and Blankets
Style Police
The Fash Mag Slag
The Line of Contempt
The Pen15 Club
The Spin Starts Here
The Superficial
Treading Water 101
Victim of Narcissism


Black People Love Us
Elijah Wood is Very, Very Gay
Sexy Losers
Sin Fest
Television Without Pity
Tomato Nation
Three Way Action
White Ninja Comics




Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Guys, I'm a bit scared. I have a little "networking" to do on Friday night! And yes, I am aware that I have broached one of the top three most annoying business catchphrases (the other two being "touch base" and "it's a buyer's market"), but I don't have a better word for it. I'm to have dinner on Friday night with a very minor, like, E-list celebrity/media-y person, and I'm hoping they might be able to plop me into some cushy job somewhere. Isn't that how getting a job works? It's not what you know, but who you know? Or something? I mean, I do know quite a lot as well, I'm hardly stupid or anything like that. And I don't look retarded; indeed, I think any company or organisation would be thrilled to have someone with my cheekbones -- not to mention my hair which is on tousled fire, and my smooth and buffed-looking nails -- on staff. I don't even care if all I have to do is file press releases in my glass-and-zinc office, or just plain sitting around looking pretty in my Dolce and idly flip through the advertisements of fashion magazines (so the best bit) while somewhere in the background a phone pleasantly chirps...

Okay, getting a little carried away. But I've never networked before! I can't imagine I'd be very good at it. I'm like, really bad at extolling my virtues, and people are generally slow to warm to me. Which is like, weird, as I'm totally open and giving and shit. But at least there will be (I mean, I guess there should be) plenty of alcohol, so that should make things a shade easier. Urgh. But it means I have to be all charming and interesting and butt-kissy. Not exactly my forte. But I'm sure I'll get the hang of it. I'm trusting that my survival instincts will kick in. Either I impress and am pointed into a decent career path, or I resign myself to a future of approving personal finance loans at Cash Converters.

But mother and I are finally going to do some shopping tomorrow. The dog is a dark shadow looming over us at the moment, and she has a mammogram tomorrow, so we are in need of some pampering. I have to buy: jeans, trousers, shoes (casual and more snappy), an array of tees, a deep round-necked black cashmere sweater, socks, and fresh underwear. I'm also thinking of getting my hair trimmed. While looking quite bitching out front, the sides are looking a bit... weird. And if I reflexively swoop my hair behind my ears, which I like, always do, I look a bit like Miranda circa Season Two of Sex and the City... eek! And I never did make that lemon juice and vodka cocktail for my hair, hmmph, so I'm a bit paranoid I look somewhat mousey. God. I wish job hunting came like, easy to me. Wouldn't it be refreshing if I could be one of those people with a really plebeian résumé and wear like, Tarocash to impress?

Actually, it wouldn't. I hate those people.