At the Johnny Rockets in Baywalk, St. Petersburg F-L-A, I sit writing the latest in a series of reports designed to promote newly designated historic buildings in Miami. While not a glamourous job, it nonetheless has made me famous. Why just the other day I was stopped on an L.A. street by Mr. Matthew Perry, who praised my technical writing skills.
"You're her, aren't you?"
"If by her you mean me, then I suppose I am."
"I absolutely love your reports! I mean, the local register nomination for Magic City Tourist Court was sublime. I spit on those who denied its designation!"
"Thanks for the support, but really I'm not surprised. Long gone are the days of Tin Can Tourists pulling into vacation cabins for the summer. Magic City's now a trailer park and preservationists just aren't going to go for that. Besides, I'm not sure if the property owners were keen on the idea either... Hey, how did you get a hold of that report anyway?"
"It's a hobby."
"Ah."
And so on. Of course, Mr. Matthew McConaughey was very nearby listening to all of this, making Mr. Matthew Perry very jealous indeed. Such is the life of a girl like me. Seriously! Jay Leno has been positively aching to get me on his show to go over the comical rendering of the Secretary's Standards for Rehabilitation I wrote for a graduate class once, but I'm holding out for Larry King.
If this report gets spotty, by the way, it's because I'm wiping my onion-greased, french fry fingers all over it. The bacon on my BLT was perfect. It would be fun to work at Johnny Rockets, I think. The ketchup smiley faces, dancing in the middle of the restaurant to "Staying Alive" - although there is always that one person, you know what I mean. However, I think I would prefer working at the one at Pentagon City Mall in Washington D.C. There they dance to Frank Sinatra singing "Chicago," and Chicago is my kind of town, after all.
But I write reports. Damn good ones. And soon I will be all power, all control. Happy because life is just like that, though the delicious sting of heartbreak has been mine as well. And isn't that a wonderful thing?
"You're her, aren't you?"
"If by her you mean me, then I suppose I am."
"I absolutely love your reports! I mean, the local register nomination for Magic City Tourist Court was sublime. I spit on those who denied its designation!"
"Thanks for the support, but really I'm not surprised. Long gone are the days of Tin Can Tourists pulling into vacation cabins for the summer. Magic City's now a trailer park and preservationists just aren't going to go for that. Besides, I'm not sure if the property owners were keen on the idea either... Hey, how did you get a hold of that report anyway?"
"It's a hobby."
"Ah."
And so on. Of course, Mr. Matthew McConaughey was very nearby listening to all of this, making Mr. Matthew Perry very jealous indeed. Such is the life of a girl like me. Seriously! Jay Leno has been positively aching to get me on his show to go over the comical rendering of the Secretary's Standards for Rehabilitation I wrote for a graduate class once, but I'm holding out for Larry King.
If this report gets spotty, by the way, it's because I'm wiping my onion-greased, french fry fingers all over it. The bacon on my BLT was perfect. It would be fun to work at Johnny Rockets, I think. The ketchup smiley faces, dancing in the middle of the restaurant to "Staying Alive" - although there is always that one person, you know what I mean. However, I think I would prefer working at the one at Pentagon City Mall in Washington D.C. There they dance to Frank Sinatra singing "Chicago," and Chicago is my kind of town, after all.
But I write reports. Damn good ones. And soon I will be all power, all control. Happy because life is just like that, though the delicious sting of heartbreak has been mine as well. And isn't that a wonderful thing?
