Fashion Week?

I really don't believe that Fashion Week is once a year. As far as I'm concerned, I hear that it's Fashion Week at least once every two months. If it really only happens once a year in New York, then why on earth would they choose it to be the most consistently cold time of year? Bony models and sub zero winds don't go well together, and I truly don't believe that this is the once a year production they claim it is.

You'll be happy to know that for the first time since the company I worked for was bought out in July, I may actually have a job to do. I've claimed at other times that I've got work to do, but navigating through a web of bureaucratic BS and having a particular distaste for it has always landed me right back where I started. Having more faith in me (apparently) than their dumb system, the rules have finally been rewritten to what they were under the nice old small shop I used to work at, and I'm happy to say that the end of this month should be the end of "integration." In the world of rich media, Rosa Parks and George Wallace would have been best friends, and I only wish I could whip out the link to the John Mellancamp Chevy commercial, but we didn't build that one because apparently the sales team I work for lost that deal. Either way, brace yourselves, cause I've broken free of my leash and can soon stop trying to figure out how to fit a square peg in a round hole.

For you Weiner Circle lovers out there, Single Jew has sent me a YouTube of sassy black lady serenading the most-likely homosexual AEPi'ers of some Chicago college, so here that is:

For those of you who don't know what's going on here, next time you find yourself in Chicago, drunk, and at Diversey and Clark, take the time to go two blocks south and order yourself one of the finest and rudest hot dogs in all the land. If you're feeling lucky, ask for the chocolate milkshake and be careful its power. I'm a little scared that she knows the Dianu song and I do not, but I guess she gets way more a cultural experience working that counter than I could ever imagine.

For those of you seeking distraction from some fucking election that isn't for another 21 months (fuck Hillary, fuck Rudy, fuck Edwards, fuck Kerry, fuck McCain, but Barack is way too cool), might I recommend the Bauer family saga? Lameness was overpowered by action last night, as Jack's first full temper tantrum of the season was played out through the torture of his own brother who had just tried to kill him and his father. Top that with the father killing the son and being the real bad guy, and you've got yourself one twisted family with Jack Bauer being totally deceived. Only more insanity, torture, and bad ideas can come from this as we gear up for next weeks two hours of action-packed drama, but I do feel bad for the CTU programmer that has been kidnapped. If only Chloe heeded Six Feet Under guy's advice not to tell him about her boyfriend's fake dying brother, she could be back having sex in the interrogation room.

Oh yea, the Super bowl sucked but I made a killer guacamole. Rex's throwaways looked like an 8th grader floated those up in the air, and Peyton finally won one although I still don't like him (it has nothing to do with his brother). Vinatieri apparently can only be perfect under Parcells or someone like him who hates kickers, and unfortunately the less black coach played to win the game more than the other guy did.