Friday, April 22, 2005
A Bloviater Blowing Bull-Shit. This was more or less the conclusion hubby came to after reading my GORE-TEX press release sample I had drafted to send to my new prospective employer. "You're talking out of your ass and it's because you never want to do any research. You just want to talk" (think Arnold Schwarzenegger when you read that sentence because that's what this Austrian husband of mine sounds like). In less than three minutes he had shredded my press release into something resembling the tangled birdie nest splayed a mess on the rhododendron bush outside my kitchen window after having been unceremoniously blown out the venting duct when I turned on the oven fan. And as hard as it is to admit, every last criticism was right! In my quest for creativity, I had mixed up the company-with-the-brand-with-the-fabric-with-a-story that was all absolutely implausible. Hiding under the bed covers later I mewed, 'Oh who's the weakest link now? Not those stupid birds who don't know any better not to build a nest in a venting duct. It's YOU.' Then I let the imaginary sappy music pipe in to visions of an atrophied Anna found twenty years hence in her stuffy State House basement office by a surprised janitor. "Hey Joey! Come take a look at this old dusty mummy I found! Jesus!" Over my dead body someone will find me there. Back to the drawing board...
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