2003-11-05

Since my sister has become fiscally viable again, she’s been bingeing on the bling. Her latest impractical investment is about a hundred dollars’ worth of J-Lo Brand beauty products: cologne, moisturizer, shower gel and, I don’t know, ass cream or something. MY APARTMENT REEKS OF J-LO. Stuff is nasty. I don’t know what block Ms. Lo is from, but it’s smack in the middle of stankville. I just hope the smell isn’t lingering on my clothes. I don’t want that fucker Ben Affleck sniffing around my tail.

Topic switch! Insert segue here.

My boss keeps inviting me out to various political and press soirées. This is indisputably cool, as is reading about my coworkers in the newspaper; however, I don’t really have the crucial mingling savvy necessary for such functions. I’m not much of a schmoozer – I’m more of a lurk-drunkenly-in-the-corner-and-make-snide-remarks…er. So, unfortunately, my career as a political debutante will be nipped in the bud by my social recalcitrance. Sad. I could have made a real splash in the salons of Ottawa this season with my devilish insouciance. Not to mention my ability to shotgun a can of Labatt 50 in under ten seconds. Keepin’ it real, baby!