Update

I haven't blogged in a while, and since I know you're all dying to hear what I've been up to, here's a quick run-down.
-The Saskatchewan job fell through. Contrary to anything written in the job advert, what they were seeking was a journalist, not an editor. They have computers do their editing.
-The law firm receptionist/admin job ended this past Tuesday. It went very well, apart from the day when I lost my voice to the head cold and could only communicate by tiny whispers and all the clients whispered too like we were in a funeral chapel with an open coffin and a weeping widow. After my job in California last year, I thought I hated law firms; turns out I just hated that law firm. People were nice at this one, didn't breathe down my neck every single moment of the day, and even had a sense of humour. Gordon (the lawyer) and I hit it off; he's brilliant and eccentric and reminds me a lot of a chain smoker I knew in college, only about forty years older. He had me bring in my resume on my last day and hinted at possibly hiring me and training for a legal secretary, so who knows. It's not exactly what I've always wanted to do, but then nothing I've ever really wanted to do has been practical, and a girl needs to eat, right? In the meantime, I have a chance at a job near home with good pay, and am keeping fingers crossed. Well not really, what kind of idiot actually crosses her fingers, but you know, metaphorically. Have also applied for a one-month job as an accounting assistant in Banff, simply because it has got to be one of the most beautiful places on earth, and working there/living in employee quarters for $240/month is the only way I can possibly afford to explore it.
-My hair is now shorter than it has been since I was in diapers. Little brother said it looks like a boy, but I say he acts like a girl and at least my hair will grow out of it. Anway it doesn't look like a boy's cut, it's very nice and feminine and I specified to the girl that I didn't want it dyke-short (then hoped like mad that she wasn't gay, because then I'd be in trouble).
-I've been taking a Photoshop class, which has been fun, especially the night I made a duck disappear and gave a pimply teenager clear skin. The only problem with the class is that our large-lipped and spineless instructor Mr. Mann (no joke) has fallen prey to the snares of one of the other students, a gorgeous artist with pink hair which I covet. The pink hair, I mean, not the artist or Mr. Mann. Whenever I try to ask a question, he doesn't hear or notice it because he's too busy hovering around Vanessa and her pictures of her artwork. Incidentally, her most famous artwork, "Seasons," is a series of busts of, well, busts, illustrating the passage of a female from girlhood to adulthood to breast-cancerhood to breast-cancer-survivalhood. Vanessa is a breast cancer survivor who started a group called "The Young and the Breastless", which is, also incidentally, what my similarly-built friend-since-we-were-babies Monique and I used to joke years ago that we would call a soap opera of our lives. That, or "The Bald and the Beautiful," when Monique's hair was falling out in chunks after her visit to Mexico. Anyhoo.
-Mom wants "The Last Rose of Summer" played at her funeral, and five calla lilies on her coffin. This is what my parents talk about on Friday nights, and is why going to the mall with T this evening was such a good idea.