I have to get a “knowledge transfer” today from someone at work. I think that’s like the episode of Star Trek where Spock’s consciousness went missing. A wacky search will ensue, and the knowledge will be discovered in a comely nurse.
Last night Lambchop and I saw Lost in Translation, which was just hot stuff. In a low key, perfectly crafted way of course. Really gorgeous. I wanted to get on a plane and go to Tokyo. It would beat sitting in dreary Boston. Which still beats sitting in Arizona with a stick. The one saving grace of today was buying David Bowie tickets. I could have clued you all in that they went on sale today, but I am selfish, with small beady eyes like a snake.
And speaking of David Bowie, I watched Mr. Pants robotically make his way through a performance on the Today Show yesterday. The camera panned across the audience a few times, and I had to wonder yet again at how the most stylish man on the planet manages to attract fat, unkempt goths as a major part of his fanbase. You’d think these poor sods would take a memo! Mr. Bowie did not get to his present perfectly preserved state without daily jogs, a good cosmetic dentist, hairstylist, colorist, wardrobe mistress, and plastic surgeon. Whatever happened to emulating one’s idols?