Bulls on parade

I'm getting a second job. As it becomes clearer and clearer that this is going to involve me serving hungry hipsters at an upscale fast-food joint that specializes in variations on the hamburger (free range chicken breast, chopped sirloin, filet mignon sandwich) I'd like to tell you about a job I'd rather have instead: pasting rose petals on enormous piñata-like bull sculpture. There was one of these, a big red bull sculpture, at the 'Raging Bull' after-party. (There is something funny about complaining about bad jobs when my current job is already pretty great. Or, you know, not funny, but obnoxious, spoiled, bratty. But I want everything to be perfect. And by perfect I mean I want to win the lottery and have no jobs at all, which is really the job I wish I had instead, the no-job. In the meantime I am, therefore I complain.) The petals were pasted on in different directions, on different sides, to create shades and textures that made the bull more rose-petally bullish. It reminded me of the "Cows on Parade" except for it was perishable. And someone spent hour upon billable hour obsessing over this incredibly kitschy monstrosity and I'm jealous.