I noticed just now that it's been 40 weeks, five days since I quite smoking. Which is a full term baby.
EDIT: "Tar baby" would have been a much funnier subject line. Poop.
Stuff and Nonsense of My Own Invention
I noticed just now that it's been 40 weeks, five days since I quite smoking. Which is a full term baby.
EDIT: "Tar baby" would have been a much funnier subject line. Poop.
Please forgive my lame attempt at cuteness. I haven't got much creative energy today.
My brain is slowly being sapped out by the horrible noise of my old desktop computer, which is on because my Mac does not have Word. Guess what I am buying with my next paycheck. Seriously, this machine is so loud it has no excuse to do so little. I mean, for this amount of noise it should be The Mangler or something.
I was planning to write about Something Specific, so of course I have no idea what it was. For this, too, I blame the Dell and its noise.
In other words, it's raining (it's pouring).
Despite horrible neighbors, physical ailments (such as still having this fucking cold, not to mention severe hip discomfort), and nonstop hunger, I managed to put in about five hours of work today, plus some unpaid stuff. I'm feeling pretty accomplished.
Last night the Mister and I watched Kill Bill (volume I). We skipped it when it came out because we both oppose the splitting up of a single movie, except when it results in The Four Musketeers (tangent: apparently the same producer is responsible for Superman 2; I can't wait for that box set). We intended to rent them as soon as both volumes were available, but between theatrical and DVD release our (ex-)friends happened to us. "What do you mean, you haven't seen Kill Bill? I can't believe you haven't seen Kill Bill! You have to see Kill Bill." And there is, of course, no faster way to kill my enthusiasm than to be That Person. Especially if you are trying to tell the couple with the shelves of Samurai and Hong Kong movies that QT delivered a "really original" movie. Don't get me wrong - he has his own style, for sure. But he borrows from all of his favorites, and I knew just which ones before seeing the movie so don't think you can pull one over on me, stupid people!
So we liked Volume I. I like any movie that makes it clear just how much damn fun the filmmakers were having. I do question the necessity of the levels of authenticity they went for - the sound stages in southern California are just as good as the ones in Japan - but I also admire it. It also makes me think a great deal about QT and Rodriguez - the latter, of course, willing to cheat anything if it saves time and money. If they weren't already regular collaborators, I'd be foaming at the bit to see what they'd create together. As it is, I'm wishing I'd seen From Dusk Till Dawn more than three times in the theater.
I need to make more tortillas soon. I am a woman obsessed.
Well, wasn't this random?
Someone-possibly my downstairs neighbor-is playing "music" with such loud bass that my chair is shaking. I am on the second floor of my apartment. It is so loud that I actually cannot tell where it is coming from, which makes the chances of my asking them to turn it down even slimmer than they were to begin with. (Normally that's the action I'd advocate, but I had neighbors in Chicago who were CRAZY and almost killed us when we asked them to turn their music down so I tend to avoid that sort of thing now. Those same neighbors used to vacuum at 4:00 in the morning. Every morning.)
It is not looking likely that I will get much more work done this morning. My head is beginning to hurt and I can't take painkillers. BETTIE SMASH.
Will and I just had tacos for dinner. We have, in point of fact, eaten tacos for most meals this weekend - four of them, to be exact. This time was different. This time, I made the tortillas. That is, they started out flour and became tortillas. It was amazing and they were delicious.
I got the recipe from the Sin City DVD - the two disc, not the single. Robert Rodriguez, resident of Austin, is my hero. I already make his pork pibil from the Once Upon A Time In Mexico special features every year at Christmas. Now I never have to buy tortillas again (except maybe corn).
2 cups flour*
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 cup shortening - he uses half butter, half lard; I used half butter, half Crisco
mix to meal texture
3/4 cup warm/hot water
knead for a few minutes, divide into balls somewhere between golf ball and tennis ball size (golf balls will get you tortillas the size of your hand). Cover with a cloth you've dampened with hot water, let sit 20 minutes.
Roll out thin and cook in hot pan (teflon would be great for this). Cook first side a few seconds, then flip. Cook another minute, flip again, cook till nicely browned.
*I used all-purpose. I think you could use anything (but if it's self-rising do not use baking powder, and be prepared for a bumpy ride). If you wanted to use whole wheat, I'd suggest sifting it first to remove the larger, gritty bits. A fine mesh strainer works well if you don't have a flour sifter.
I took a shower.
If you are all good boys and girls I might take another one without the towel.
Hi. I'm grumpy.
My chest hurts.
Actually, everything hurts.
People are driving me nuts.
I am getting behind again.
I had lunch an hour ago and I'm already hungry and I don't feel like cooking again.
We're really broke till payday.
I have a tight job deadline, a script to cover, and only three months (maximum) to get ready for this baby. Also it is my sister's birthday in two weeks and I haven't even bought the recipe for her present yet. I guess she's getting a picture of it...
Where the hell did I put the title for the old car that wasn't supposed to get sent to us, it was supposed to go to the insurance company and now I have to send it and I don't remember what I did with it and what punctuation does this sentence need?
And tired. Need nap.
I've decided, since yesterday went swimmingly, to work from 9:00 to noon daily, with a few hours in the afternoon as needed. It is very naughty of me to be updating my blog! But I am fact-checking in another window, so it must be OK.
Did I even mention that I have a new job? Probably not. I signed the confidentiality agreement without reading all of it, so I don't know if I'm allowed to say anything at all. Wouldn't it be funny if part of the NDA stated that I couldn't disclose that I'd signed it? Funny, but also scary-fascist.
A little bit ago, it took me a full five minutes to come up with "risk." As an opposite of "benefit." I am retarded.
Well, back to work! Wasn't this fun?
Woke up unable to breath...FUN!
Worked for three hours while watching (listening to) Arrested Development. Love working from home.
Husband brought fish for lunch. FISH! (Read: sushi.)
Most exciting place roe was found after lunch: left eyebrow.
Worked for an hour while watching (listening to) Nero Wolfe. This is the life.
Am thinking of napping before resuming work.
Brett Ratner says, "My movie is shit and I hate the X-Men."
I am so far behind on all the good stuff. This is what happens when you allow your life to turn into a baby blog!
For some reason I have no face in these pictures. Try here - you can see all my chins, and the Pakeha.
1. These were taken at 26 weeks, one day.
2. Yes, you see the same pink towel in the picture every week. I wash it regularly. It is the biggest and least linty.
3. Pakeha. The iBook looks like a storm trooper. The clone troopers were played by Tamuera Morrison, a Maori actor. Utu is an excellent movie, in which a Maori named Te Wheke exacts Utu upon the Pakeha, or white men. It is possible that he calls them not Pakeha but Parareka, which means potato. Potatoes are white like Storm Troopers.
4. That is the shirt that was ruined.
What are possible illnesses to be contracted from exposure to raw sewage?
Which is backed up in my husband's office. And people are still working. Not, I hasten to clarify, Will, who is out the door and not going back until things are fixed. However, he was there for nearly two hours. If he transmits nasty bacteria to me...Well, let's just say I am very busy not freaking out (but perilously close).
(Another post for my reference, but as below, if you know a way I can save money, do say so!)
This is more for my reference than anything else. I do have a wishlist but I'm not asking anyone to buy things from it. Of course if you know of any way I can get any of these items free or on the cheap, do leave a comment. You can email me for the list information if you really need it.
stuff we have
So, I still have no idea what's going on with posts and comments that disappeared. Nor do I have any idea why it was my favorite shirt that got ruined in the laundry this morning, and my fifty-fucking-dollar bra.
I'll tell you true, I am afraid to post to the b-log, because who knows what will disappear this time when I hit 'publish.'
So I need your help. As soon as I have the money (hopefully in a couple weeks), I plan to switch web hosts (the current one sucks, which is why the blog and my photos and whatnot are not there). As soon as that happens I need someone who will either hold my hand through the installation process of WordPress or just take pity on me and do it for me. Down the road I need someone to make it look the way I want, which I understand is a huge undertaking with WP which is why I'm not asking for it right away. What I need now is to install the software and import four years worth of posts, which I think is already far too much to ask.
suckers takers? I will totally give you candy and everlasting love in return.
UPDATE: I love my friends inside the computer. Now I just need to choose a new host (any suggestions?) and figure out how to deal with my email.
A few months ago I opened a different browser than usual and went to Buffyguide.com, where I discovered that I was logged in as Mindi, who'd used that browser at my house a year prior. I was amused by this and made a post about it; someone suggested that if Mindi and I were both logged on as her it could cause a rift in the SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM (or possibly something less dramatic than that). It was then decided that she and I were merging into one person, to be called Mittie (for Min and bettie). Aren't inside jokes fun?
I bring this up because in the previous entry, Mindi and my comments have been eating each other. ONLY ONE OF US CAN HAVE COMMENTS AT A TIME. I find this highly suspicious.
UPDATE: And this entire entry was eaten. I've recreated it using nanotechnology.
It's been nice knowing all of you, but I am now too big for these britches.
A few days ago I posted on blogging.la in response to a reader request for local yarn store suggestions (you can see the post here). I mentioned several stores, and identified Unwind as my favorite.
Today I went into Unwind to buy a pattern and when the owner, Stephanie, was ringing me up she said, "Are you the one who posted about us on the blog?" Apparently they've had three new customers in two days, all because of me.
See? Famous. I will try to remember the little people but I can't promise anything. Try to comfort yourself with today's Dinosaur Comic.
I am so tired. I have never been this tired. I took a two hour nap and when I woke up Will asked how I was feeling and I said "Tired." I figure that either I am getting sick (Will's been ill since Sunday) or fighting off getting sick. You can guess which I prefer.
I've been wanting to update all day but it would seem that my brain isn't working, so this is the best I can do.
Ahh, the infamous update to apologize for not updating. I am a classy blogger.
-I don't press 'Play All' anymore.
-I've gotten too old.
"It says in the bible that old men need to have young women to sleep next to them to keep them warm. And I am very, very old, and you are like a heater."
I know you're feeling wretched today, so I won't bother you.
I just wanted to tell you a few things, in case you didn't know.
You are my sunshine. Like the silly song. You are the reason I wake up in the morning.
You are the one person who can make me laugh no matter what.
You are totally awesome. Kind and sweet and brilliant and the best person I know. Sometimes, I like you more than I like myself.
I can't imagine not knowing you. I can't fathom not being with you. I can't be anywhere but here with you, creating this family together.
I can't believe that only eight years ago we were teetering on the edge of this huge thing, and had no idea.
I didn't get you a present or buy you flowers or anything.
I did get pizza and make juice. And later I'll help you find all the hidden packages in Vice City.
It's not very indicative of how I'd like to spoil you, but I think you understand.
I love you.
I am so over the internets right now.
CLARIFICATION: Everything is fine! I just hate the internet right now. But not YOU! You're great.
You know what honesty gets you?
Nasty people with nothing better to do than obsessively read your blog, looking for anything they might be able to interpret as a personal dig so they can spend their valuable time calling you worthless on your own blog.
If you are who I think you are, I stopped being your friend for a reason.
If you are someone random off the street, I am truly sorry for you.
Anonymous comments are this close to getting shut off again.
"pregnancy detection by tone" on Yahoo and "lactose farts" on google.
(Also on google: "tea and thorazine andrew bird," but that one seems far too mundane to mention.)
A gentleman just called for Will from Vivid Entertainment. "Isn't that porn?" Will says. So I ask the man on the phone if I can help him, and sure enough, they'd like to "ask some questions," and to thank us for our time they'll send us FOUR of their "hottest XXX adult titles." I ask the man to hold on, laugh hysterically and relay the information to Will, and then give the man permission to go ahead.
Then he broke my heart: They will send their four hottest XXX adult titles, a value of $30-40 apiece, for a shipping and handling charge of $14.95. "That isn't free," says me. "I never said 'free.'" says my new mortal enemy. It was implied. I tell him I'm not interested if I have to answer questions and pay money. He hangs up. I cry because we haven't got those four hottest XXX adult titles and now we probably never will.
This iBook represents the major change my life is going through.
I have transfered approximately four files from the PC. I've built bookmarks from my (woefully neglected and mostly out of date) blogroll. That's it. My former life lies dormant in this black box marked "Dell."
I even find myself happy about the friendships that have ended - not because said friends were jerks (except that one), but because I needed a fresh start so desperately. I am sad that it had to happen this way, but a cleansing is sometimes the only solution. This time it happened to be people.
The major life changes are represented by my iBook Parareka (Pakeha? I don't speak the language), my car (no name yet), my expanding belly, and this smile on my face.
Will listened to the baby's heartbeat yesterday. I wish I could record his imitation of it and share it with you all, as it was the cutest sound I have ever heard that wasn't actually the heartbeat. (With a fetoscope, I cannot listen as the cord is too short. I haven't heard the baby since 10 weeks, though as Will points out I do get to feel it every day.)
The baby reclines sideways, butt in my pelvis, and moves very quickly whenever anyone tries to find him. Yesterday he started out head on my left side and flipped in a split second to hide from Daddy (inadvertantly making the heartbeat easier to find).
I am saying "he" for no scientific reason whatsoever.
My uterus measures 25 centimeters. I felt a bit of intestine when I was poking around to find the top of the uterus. It was gross - it sort of slid out from under my fingers.
Froggy weighs approximately a pound and a half. I weight 159 pounds.
In the first picture you can see how very tired I was. There is no front-on shot, as I was in my underpants. (They are Christmas-y.)
I am a very jealous person. This is different than envy, which I also occasionally suffer from. No, this is limited pretty much to my husband.
Because I have such incredible taste in men (everyone else I ever dated, slept with, or had a vague crush on notwithstanding), the wimmins are all hot for Will. This sounds silly and of course it's hyperbole, except that there really are an obscene number of women waiting in line to take my place. Will doesn't believe this is true at all, but I think that is normal human insecurity - he simply doesn't see himself as the attractive and desirable package that he is.
[aside: Will used to be a bartender and woman would flirt so heavily I wanted to puke (the light flirters amused me; I never minded and they sometimes tipped well). Will was never aware of the come-ons and would get mad at me if I was annoyed when he (I thought) reciprocated. (It should be noted that this was many years ago.)]
I have a very simple rule. If she tried to steal him, she isn't welcome in our lives.
Stupid disclaimer that I shouldn't have to write: I trust Will implicitly. I think another woman - any other woman - could literally throw herself at him and he wouldn't budge except maybe to help her up because he is a gentleman like that. However, I don't think I should have to deal with anyone flirting with him.
I am not very tolerant. But I don't think I'm crazy either. I have had to deal with some choice harlots over the years.
Will's ex who broke his heart a year before I met him and tried to get him back into her bed the second he and I got serious and then spent a year and a half sending him LOVE LETTERS? Not fucking welcome.
The gal who counseled him on the reasons he should stop beating around the bush and make up with me when we were split up and then kissed him the second he and I got serious again? Not welcome.
The chick who tried to get him go out with her for coffee right after I'd moved here and suggested he meet her while I was sleeping? She'd be off the Christmas list (as it were) if I could remember her name.
The girls who were friendly with me but always seemed to hero-worship Will? I understood, of course (he is my hero), but they were not the kind of friends I wanted anyway.
I often think that I need to get a grip and stop being so fucking jealous. It is probably unreasonable of me to flip out when Will talks wistfully about a girl he dated a hundred years ago (or, you know, fourteen). And yet I do. It's not fair of me to ask him to limit his friendships. But I do think I have to tell him when I am uncomfortable. And that? Makes me uncomfortable.
Disclaimer, part two: This is not some passive-aggressive way of confronting him. I am posting this with his full knowledge and approval.
Hi. My name is Annika and I am hungry All. The. Time.
I wake up at about 5:00 every morning, desperate to pee. Once I'm up I generally can't sleep for at least half an hour, and tend to spend that time alternately staring at the ceiling and trying to get comfy again. Occasionally I come up with brilliant ideas for stories, blog posts, etc., but I never write them down. One night it was more like 3:30 and Will woke up too, so we had tea. That was fantastic.
The frogger is very active, rolling around, stretching, doing complicated gymnastics, and kicking and punching mommy at will. Sometimes I get thumped on the ass. From the inside. This is as hilarious as it sounds.
The baby tends to be the most active when I want to be asleep (or otherwise in bed). I assume this is a portent of Things To Come.
My right hip started bothering me yesterday. My chiropractor used the dread word "sciatica," which I am very actively pretending not to have heard. Also I'm not convinced that's what it is, since the discomfort is very localized. Like, just my hip joint is troubling me. Still, whatever it is, it cannot be denied that I'm having trouble walking. This is very annoying.
I still think pregnancy is awesome and wonderful. Two separate people have said things to me recently about "what [I'm] going through," and I was shocked at the choice of words. I just don't think I'm going through anything. Experiencing is more like it.
(actually from yesterday or possibly even Sunday)
"Have you ever seen Heath Ledger and that guy from Silverchair in the same place?"
Someone found my site (noirbettie.com - not this blog specifically) using those search terms. I wonder what they might have found with the correct plural. I wonder if there are any sordid sex storys [sic] on my site. If so, whose are they and can I borrow them?
I met Diablo Cody the other night at a signing of her book Candy Girl. Somehow Will brought up the naughty pictures I posed for once upon a time. I think he wanted to know if my parents knew about them, which, um, now they do! Surprise!
Five years ago I nearly froze to death in a studio in Chicago, posing for some beautiful (but totally tasteless) lesbian bondage erotica. The (pay) site the pictures were on no longer exists and I do not have copies. I'm working on tracking the photographer down. If there's a chance my children will find out, which there is, it seems I ought to tell them. Besides, I'm not remotely ashamed of it. Those were some hot pictures.
That was the closest I ever came to sex work. I'm too old now to try dancing (that's "stripping" to anyone who's never lived with a dancer), which I find mildly disappointing even though I'd never have been able to cut it. Anyway, I lost my center of gravity.
Dear Mr. Lucas,
Yesterday, in honor of SuperBowl LXM (or whatever it was), my husband and I watched your prequel trilogy. I have a few complaints, including how much more like a cartoon The Phantom Menace is than The Clone Wars, but I won't trouble you with those now. I'm sure you get enough letters like that.
Instead, I have a question: Have you have seen a pregnant woman or a birth? You see, I am nearly six months pregnant. Padme carried twins. At the climax of the movie she was smaller than I am now. I concede that Natalie Portman is significantly smaller than me, but I'm talking proportionate belly size. I also concede that I have some extra fat on me, but not enough that my singleton, second trimester pregnancy could look larger than a third trimester twin pregnancy. Or was she supposed to die significantly early on in the pregnancy? You never really gave any indication. The babes seemed awfully robust and healthy, though, to have been premies. In fact, as my baby only has a very slight chance of survival on the outside, I am going to say that twins have next to none.
SO WHY WAS SHE SO TINY? There were entire scenes where it looked as though no one had even bothered to strap on her dainty little belly.
Furthermore, why must you perpetuate the idea that birth is a bad thing? Showing Padme in pain both in Anakin's dreams and in actuality contributes to negative myths surrounding an occurrence that is natural and not necessarily so very awful. I am willing to forgive the pain in Anakin's dreams as it is actually related to a fairly important plot development, but there is no excuse for her to scream during what is presented as an extraction of the babies. She is not in labor. They "take" the babies to save them as she has, um, heeheeeee, lost the will to live. Was there no anesthesia a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away? Do you just not understand how babies come out? Were we supposed to believe that the droids induced labor? None of these work for me.
Looking forward to your reply!
P.S. While fair representation of labor and birth is my number one personal baby-related crusade, I would also like to see some history on the Organas and their choice to adopt. Were they infertile? What are the options in the Star Wars universe? And why did Leia, an otherwise intelligent leader, believe that the nice hispanic lady was her biological mother? (Or perhaps you are way more hip than I ever dreamed, and you know that "real mother" means whatever it means, and has nothing to do with who gave birth to you.)
You know it's bad when...
-you have a New Kids On The Block song stuck in your head.
-you head over to Amazon to listen to a clip of it.
-you flip out because your iBook doesn't have Windows Media Player.
Seriously, guys. New Kids On The Block.
Also, I've been awake since 5:30 in the morning.
"I want to meet people who are successful, but otherwise just like me."
Now you tell me - is that funny or a little sad or something else entirely?
I retooled my resum� to apply for a specific job. In an act of hilarious irony, I wittled it down to a single page in about a minute and a half.
I was told by a certain someone who is contractually obligated to keep loving me whether I update or not that the Charles In Charge post has overstayed its welcome and needs to move down the page.
The problem, of course, is that I haven't a thing to say. I'm in the middle of a project that needs to be finished today. I'm hungry. The dog ate my homework.
I can tell you that Heath Allyn called me on the telephone today, and Katherine Smith called me yesterday. I think this is admissible evidence for the case against Seattle and Austin being so far away from Los Angeles. (What?)
There is a conference for women bloggers, called BlogHer, in San Jose in July. (August? It's mid-summer, anyway.) I am intrigued. I am curious. I am envious of my bloggy friends who are able to go. I could theoretically drive up, two-month-old froggy in tow, attend one day of the conference or maybe just the cocktail party in the evening, and...what? Drive home in the middle of the night with an infant? Stay in a motel? I don't know. It's too expensive and impossible to even think about.
Speaking of driving, I'm a little bit in love with my car. And also uncomfortable calling it mine. Will keeps referring to it that way, but he is the one who is paying for it, it's registered in his name, and I am just his little wife who brings home meager freelance earnings totalling enough for Thai delivery or thereabouts.
I still don't have Office for Mac. This is causing me serious grief because AppleWorks is incompatible with absolutely everything except AppleWorks...but it is the only word processing program I have. Cock. I have to print things that other people need to see because email won't work. That of course causes its own problems since I haven't hooked up the printer yet...but at least all I need there is to hunt down a USB cable. In the meantime it's a good thing I am friendly with all of Will's co-workers or else they'd be pretty bored of seeing me and my damn computer.
I like ice cream bars.
Season One of Charles In Charge will be released on DVD this Valentine's Day.
I know you are all as pee-your-pants excited about this as I am. (If not, pretend.)
When your husband begs off lunch with you in favor of getting some work done at his job, throw a fit.
I guess the post I was writing was the wrong post.
I was avoiding writing or even thinking about hurts I have inflicted and friendships that have ended, and I got to thinking about resum�s. Yes, indeedy. Because, well, there happens to be one sitting a few feet away from me. It isn't mine - it belongs to a former intern of Will's who also happens to be a friend of ours. I am theoretically going to try to get it into some other friends' hands in the hopes of helping B find a job.
But first - HOW DO I TELL THIS INFERNAL MACHINE TO STOP ASKING IF I WANT TO STAY CONNECTED TO THE INTERNET? I already turned off the prompt (default every 30 minutes alert). Now it asks me every 15 AND I AM LOSING IT.
It seems that all recent college graduates got the same template for their resum� and used it. This is the second one I've looked at in recent months (graduates of entirely different colleges in different parts of the country) and they are totally identical. AND SO BORING. If I were hiring I'd toss them in the bin immediately. But I know these people and they are INSANELY TALENTED. So why isn't that reflected here?
The first problem is obviously the medium. How the hell can you represent yourself in one to two pages of clipped sentences? Impossible, unless you are very very boring. Maybe a robot. Then you'd just have a list of specs and software.
My resum� is two pages long. I like it a great deal. When I was actively job-seeking, I didn't get a LOT of responses to it - just from potential employers who were out-of-the-box types. Coincidentally, the only kind of people I could consider working for.
Most resum�s these days start with an Objective. This is a statement of what you are looking for/offering and is supposed to grab the attention of whoever is doing the hiring. I'd be curious for some perspective (Soups?) but I personally hate this. In order to be appealing these statements are reduced to a jumble of keywords deemed desirable by some Big Company jackass, such as ORGANIZED and MULTITASK and GO-GETTER, which actually tell nothing whatsoever about you because everyone writes that. The Objective is potentially useful in stating what sort of job you are seeking, as it could weed out people looking for something else. But isn't that what a cover letter is for? It seems disingenuous to restate your cover letter in one or two sentences with zero personality.
Most resum�s these days are a single page. I know this is convenient for the people doing the hiring, but again, there is no chance of conveying an accurate portrait of yourself here. If you are fresh out of college and mostly listing internships, it makes sense, but I have two full pages of just experience on mine, and don't particularly feel that it should be trimmed - so why should anyone else's? AND mine is technically already trimmed, as I removed all retail, kitchen, and nanny experience, even though that technically is the bulk of it, timewise. (I do generally mention those jobs in my cover letter.) Can you imagine how long it would be if I listed everything?
Experience is pretty straight-forward - just a list of previous jobs, really - but I believe the focus has shifted. Where one used to write the company and title, etc., and list under it the tasks performed, now it seems to be desirable to list accomplishments. Boo. I think there should be a balance.
The oddest trend I've noticed is the Skills - it is now a list of skills and interests. Er? We are supposed to learn more about the robot because it likes to photograph flowers? This doesn't belong on a resume. Does it?
Maybe I ought to start a consulting firm, fixing resum�s for people who don't want cookie cutter jobs. The fear would be, of course, that my help would keep people from getting any job.