The Reluctant Housewife or Dorothy Parker Ate My Puppy

"When I got married, I said to my therapist, 'I want to do something creative.' He said, 'Why don't you have a baby?' I hope he's dead now." Joy Behar

Monday, September 05, 2005

Dirty jeans and the albatross of doom

The 'phone rang this morning at 10, just as I was dreaming peacefully about nothing in particular. It was man about a job. I had half an hour to brush my and hair, wave a mascara wand in my face and get there in double quick time. I ended up wearing jeans and a T-shirt at one of the smartest establishments in London. I thought I'd got away with it when i saw a calf-long streak of mud on my jeans.

Then they told me that I'd forgotten to put a stamp on my application and they'd had to pay £1.50 for the pleasure of picking it up from the Post office.

We talked about dogs, 9/11 and meta-tagging, then I came home and had a good look in the mirror. I looked like a cross between Zsa Zsa Gabor and trailer trash.

If I get this job it will be an Act of God.

On another note, do you think someone should have a quiet word with Mo' Fayed and his Department of Deplorable Taste?

What's with the golden Diana Dodi statue? And the albatross? I read somewhere our friendly Knightsbridge shopkeeper thinks it symbolizes love and peace. Mr F, I shake my head at you. Only you could take a tragic accident and raise it to the level of farce with a bird that is a harbinger of doom.