Such a life I lead. I called the Cachinnator last night for some advice.
I'm being called in for a second callback for Major-General Stanley Rum. You know. The brand with the pirate standing with one leg on a barrel?
The first callback I was to come dressed as a soccer player. The idea was that there would be a line of soccer players protecting their "selves" from a fast-flying soccer ball, while the player on the end is in the Major-General Stanley pose.
I don't know what I did wrong, but I didn't book that one. I guess they were looking for Ken dolls to play the soccer players.
And it's about to get worse. OH, so much worse. By this time tomorrow, I'll have another self-image complex.
Because *this* Major-General Stanley ad is supposed to be competative swimmers feeling self-conscious about...yes...their teeny speedos.
So my question was do I go with the speedo that actually fits me, or do I go with the one two sizes too small.
This is my life.
I'll let you know what happens. And if the Vercace models throw me into a self-loathing dither.
3 comments:
It's no coincidence that "Speedo" rhymes with "torpedo." It should be tight enough to discern your religion.
Put a sock in it.
(And no, I am not using a familiar colloquialism for "be quiet.")
Don't worry. There was no need for that. Oh Lord. Why can't I live someplace quiet like Missouri?
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