Confessions of a true life (insert profession here)

Boing Boing http://boingboing.net/2004_01_01_archive.html#107514291129887139">rhapsodises about Confessions of a Car Salesman. And it’s a good read, too.

Until the end, when it suddenly metamorphises into a PR / sub-editor’s copy of why you should be thankful to read this wonderful piece of journalism on a price-comparison car website. Bah.

Incidentally, if I haven’t mentioned it for some time, read Belle de Jour, which, as its title clearly denotes, is the blog of a call girl from London, and has such subheadings as “Regarding orgasms at work”. Or such wonderful stuff as this:

Too many overly specific requests also tend to put me on guard. Dressing up is fine. Dressing up like your septuagenarian grandmother and being asked to bring my own mortuary foam is not. A finely-tuned Creep Radar is a necessary part of the business. This is, after all, an occupation that ranks somewhere between nuclear core inspector and rugby prop for job safety. Except I’m issued neither a foil suit nor a pair of spiked boots for protection.

She claims she’s getting an RSS feed soon, which would be excellent, as there are so many blogspot blogs that I would read regularly if they actually advertised themselves to the world like the rest of civilisation. Yes, that means you, Dave Barry.