man, i've been trekking around toronto all day in a suit. The suit part is fine... it's the shoes that go with the suit.

I hate shoes. They always hurt my feet. I'm a boot/sandal kind of girl. So I could feel my ankles getting rubbed fucking RAW by the back of my rarely-worn dress shoes, but i REFUSED to be that woman in the power suit plus running shoes.

And now that I'm home, surveying my poor shredded ankles and heels, I regret it. And yet I don't, cause I really am that vain. Not about many things... but about my choice of footwear.

I'm reminded of Seven. You know that woman whose nose gets cut off, and then sleeping pills and a phone are glued to her hands? She has to choose between suicide or a horribly disfigured life, and ends up choosing death?

That's me, but in a foot-microcosm. Kevin Spacey, come get me now.

*

In other news... the interview went well. At the end, they gave 15 of us the spiel about how "you're lucky to be here, we chose you from hundreds of CVs"

blah blah blah, who got the job???

We'll find out next week. I'm kind of ambivalent. It looks like it will be a lot of matching T-shirt group geekiness with a LOT of supervision. I'm so not into that.

I made a new Toronto friend though, and that's always nice.

9:36 p.m. - 2003-04-06