February 1st, 2010


glitter and be gay*

There was surprise Boner in the Sunday paper yesterday and I damn nearly spat out my cereal, which would have been somewhat counter productive, but I sure wasn't expecting a picture of young Matty to be gracing the pages of the local rag, but there you go. I suppose it helps that his beard on the night was an Aussie. Oh, did I say beard? I meant, oh, never mind.

Meanwhile, what a weekend (and I feel suitably wretched this morning, you'll be gratified to know, even overslept by and hour, but somehow in my panic managed to get into work half an hour earlier than usual - how, I will never know, but it possibly involved bending the laws of time and space in ways that one really shouldn't). Nevertheless, I was treated to seeing beloved Paul McDermott singing the praises of syphillis as I sipped warm champagne on a warm summer night. It doesn't get better than this.
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Phew, that was bracing. Boss lady is back and tore strips off me for eight solid hours. As always, nothing I did or didn't do would suffice. It makes me think how it's funny how I've seen two Candide's this year when I guess I'm trying to shrug and say it's all for the best and try not to struggle so much. Not really suceeding, but submission was never going to be an easy win for an obstinant Capricorn.

Also, I should probably restate that I don't care what little Matty Bomer gets up to, it's just the media dance as performed by an officially coy young actor is highly amusing to watch. I mean, it's not for nothing that celebrity tattle has been a human past time for at least two thousand years - it's so darn entertaining.
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