jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

My neighbors Patrick and Michael have a small pack of small dogs. None of those dogs can be more than ten pounds. Patrick runs the hospital for the Humane Society and that’s the source of their ever-growing gang. A few days ago Michael was coming in from a walk with the brood and I noticed the new member. Sean. He’s one of those dogs who looks like a teeny deer — short, glossy red hair and long skinny legs. He’s sort of prancy. I sat on the step to say hello to the new edition, who is quite friendly and curious.

His curiousity factor was amplified, I noticed, by his doggy head cock a la the RCA Victor guy listening to the gramaphone. But the weird thing was he never dropped that pose. So I said to Michael, “Is there something… wrong with his ears?” I was thinking maybe he had an ear infection, which was making him hold his head funny. And Michael said, “Oh no. When he was a puppy someone stuffed him in a tiny bag and tied it closed. His head was pushed way over to the side and his neck was injured. NOW HIS HEAD IS STUCK THAT WAY FOREVER.”

Models are tall. Models have big feet.

Apparently the fashion department got a pair of shoes that, for reasons unknown to me, they only have in a 6. I’m sure they could get another size if they really wanted to. But I have size 6 feet. And there I was. So the booking editor came over and looked at my bare feet. Which I really wasn’t expecting. I had to turn around, stand on my toes, etc. She declared my feet pretty enough to photograph (with the benefit of a serious pedicure) and so now I have a foot call back. They’ll break out the actual shoes next time (I guess they didn’t have them in the office today) and make me try them on. If I don’t make pretty shoes look ugly then I’ll wear them in an upcoming issue. This will be something like a knee-down shot, so no face time for my mom to love. But I like the idea of working through the magazine one body part at a time.

And even more I like the idea of a hard core pedicure that I don’t have to pay for.

Unrelated: willowkitty, watch the skies. The goody bag went out today. I hope you like it.

Can anyone recommend a book on money management for beginners? (ie: This is a 401(k), this is a Roth IRA, etc)

Because I am so attached to my Netflix queue (anyone want to be my Netflix Friend?) I rarely make it out to the theater. Blah blah blah all the same reasons everyone else gives — disruptive teenagers, tickets over $10, ringing cell phones. But a weird effect of this is that I wind up seeing movies way out of order.

There are two I’ve seen recently, with the same actress in common: A History of Violence and The Cooler. I’ll leave the real critique work to curt_holman and just say that both of them were extraordinarly good and for what it’s worth I think anyone who sees them would have to enjoy them. Maria Bello got to kiss Viggo Mortenson and William H. Macy. Lucky girl.

Speaking of kissing celebrities, I’ve had two nights of dreams absolutely packed with celebrity guest stars. I sheepishly admitted a few months ago (or so) to having a sex dream about Ben Affleck. Which is weird because really, really he’s not someone I would pick. While these most recent dreams have not been as naughty, the celebrities have been right on. They include, but are not limited to, Stephen Colbert and Josh Holloway. I can’t wait to go to sleep tonight.

The length of time between logging in adoption documents and actually being matched with a child is stretching out every month. It looks like it will be about 17 months by the time we get our dossier finished. That’s not unbearable, but it’s not what we had hoped. But there’s nothing we can do to make documents get issued by government agencies any faster, so I’m trying to maintain the Zen.

In other news: For myriad reasons it looks like a) it will just be me and Damon for Thanksgiving and b) our big vacation isn’t going to happen. Both of these things have me blue.