friday october 19 2001    |    1:29 p.m.

i'm tired of shuffling through job search engines. no, you don't understand: i'm really tired. monster, hotjobs, miami dot com, been there, clicked that. apparently nobody's hiring, with the exception of the u.s. navy. bleargh.

so i'm taking a little breakey-break before faxing my résumé and a subtly pleading cover letter to the headhunter. who didn't even bother rejecting the e-mail application i sent in weeks ago. they just never got back to me.

i'm just a few cigarette cartons away from developing a sense of humor, i swear.

(by the way, congrats and mad props to chicken for attempting the unattemptable.)

from the non-sequitur (aka i miss joel) department: does anyone else wish g love would go lose himself somewhere in lousiana for a couple years and shoot for releasing another blues album? i do. i dusted off coast to coast motel last night for the first time in a year or two or more, and wow. not that philadelphonic wasn't endearing and all, but he really doesn't need to belabor the pimp-daddy shtick. you're hot. you know it. we do too. so play your damn guitar and quit strutting.

it's gray and rainy and it's actually only around 80 degrees today, although humidity kind of kills the enjoyment factor: it's like breathing woolly air. (yuck.) but last night it was very breezy and nearly cool, so i sat in my room with the sliding door open, smoking, listening to g, watching the palmettos shake off the rain. idyllic florida twilight, i tell you.

so orestes is back in town for good it seems. my heart's all a-flutter. (you're rolling your eyes right now.) he's having a halloween party at his new place in the grove and i can't deny that i'm counting down the days. but you would too if you had my daily routine. and even more if you knew orestes. hee.

and speaking of halloween, denise and i decided the other night that we can't just be skanky goths every year. so we decided we'd go as rock stars. but all we could think about were male rock stars and how cute johnny would look if he dressed up as any one of them. (he would make a mean 70s-era robert plant, agreed.) honestly the only rock star i can think of i'd like to dress up as is frank sinatra, and he's not even a rock star per se. oh well. suggestions?

will i make it to see the microphones tomorrow? who knows, who knows. local band boy told me he's going and i want to meet him -- he told me he's tall and wears glasses and would have an aloha teeshirt on: rowr, you know? -- but blah, my plight is the same as it always is. city of miami, i would like to see a safe night-owl bus service, please. oh wait, our elected officials are too busy moneylaundering to bother with my petty concerns. boo.

time to make tomato sauce, have a smoke, and paint my nails red.