Happy New Year from the Mountain Time Zone. I've seen Billy on TV singing his new song, though I despised the camera cuts--get back on him, dammit!--and the man needs to stop teasing the girls in the front row. Sadist. I'll just tell myself that he laughs at fart jokes and probably has someone different in his bed every night and calls them all "honey" 'cause he doesn't bother with names. Otherwise that much sexiness might just kill me.

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Happy Birthday Susan!

(so meant to type that last time...)

and calls them all "honey" 'cause he doesn't bother with names.

It's ... um ... affectionate. And cause the lots of random girls but that's not going to help his image much.

My 15-year-old she-neice got the (Billy Idol's) greatest hits cd and we (she and I) snuck off to listen to it at Christmas. It was amusing bonding and me feeling so very damn old in the same moment.

editted cause my pronouns were lazy and some alternated ways of reading it became porn. And my neice does NOT get to porn here for at least a few years.

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Mmm. Potent stuff, this port. Much better buzz than champagne. Or, at least, it gets you there quicker. I'd never have to think about whether I was spelling things right on a single glass of champagne.

Thanks for the birthday wishes.

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that's not going to help his image much

It keeps me from collapsing in a puddle of tears of longing for that which I cannot have.

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And the West Coast joins in....Happy New Year!

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You know, I think I should at least get one toaster for being the prosecco introducer around here.

At least Plei remembered to blame me for introducing her to its unholy and affordable bubbles of joy.

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I blame the cute smart boy at Trader Joe's. Get your residual from him.

And frell that, BUT props to Deb. Because I know you had a lot to do with me seeing Prosecco as fun festive wine to have, serve and gift with a nice ribbow.

'Tis a lovely wine. Though I admit, Deb, your mentions compelled me to have some nice bubbly always chilled and on hand. Often with a ribbon to transform into a total hostess gift. You totally get props on that.

Unless you need that toster.

Otherwise my gratitude is directed at you and Plie. With appreaction that makes toasters, um, pale... And toasty=flavour-wisefrizzante. Which is good in wine and a matter of personal taste in toast.

et: admit I fixed spelling.

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Happy New Year, Bitches!

I have finally just caught up--still more than 500 posts to go in Natter.

I want to wish sj get-well vibes, as well as perfect-apartment-finding vibes.

Condolences to CaBil and Ms. H on their loss.

AmyLiz, veryveryfine hair can be nicely managed in a style that would call for more textured hair with a dollop of mousse or some other product. It doesn't make the style harder to manage. It actually makes it easier than constantly having to pull long, all-one-length hair back or up. I think you'd look great with bangs and a choppy bob, shorter than chin length. It would play up your fantastic eyes and cheekbones. I had veryveryfine stick-straight textureless hair at a length between my shoulder blades and my waist for 15 years. It was easier to wash and wear: pull the sides back in winter with a clamp, pull it all up in a knot for summer. I hatehatehate hair in my face, or tucked behind an ear. I cut mine a month ago, discovered gel, and I love it. I wish you the same experience.

Also, Askye, I'm glad your mom's kitty is feeling better. He could have fallen, or eaten or drunk something that disagreed with him, made him feel rotten, and he didn't drink enough. If he's getting better and the vet hasn't found evidence of illness or injury, then I think it's safe to assume it was a short-term thing. I'm sorry for all the angst and worry, though. And congratulations on your brother's good news!

DH had to work till 8:00. We watched Aladdin on dvd, had some grocery store Aussie shiraz in antique etched wine glasses, and kissed at midnight.

NoiseDesign can tell you I drive a 1984 Nissan 240SX, and has also heard the voice. I've had her since 1993. I called her Bambi, the Stepford Airlines Stewardess. "Right door is open. Lights are on. Fuel is low. Parking brake is on. Key is in the ignition." You can hear the unspoken "...stupid." after each reminder. DH renamed her "Buffy," and years later, BtVS made an appearance. Her odometer stopped working about eight years ago at 175,000, she's had a new water pump, alternator, master cylinder, rebuilt engine, multitudinous tires, brakes, mufflers. She still runs like a damned top, jumps when I ask her, handles like a cutting horse, and fits me like a pod. A piece of trim above the windshield is loose, and at 50mph vibrates like a rattlesnake's tail. She's got body rot on the rear panel, and her U joints are creaky. I figure she's got another two good years in her before we have to start another round of expensive refits, and at that point I don't think she'll be worth saving. But I doubt I ever find another car who fits me as well as she's done.

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And I am not joining the car talk. It is like talking about old serious relationships for me. Too painful to just chat about and once I get talking.... I have loved many of my cars. Good and invidivual cars. The black 94 VTEC Del Sol has a parking spot in hell as my favorite car ever.

Fading now. And am at an interesting place. Dumb brain never works around what *I* want...

But I doubt I ever find another car who fits me as well as she's done.

I love Buffy without meeting her...

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happy new year!

I was dirty danceing with an 80 year old man with no teeth. ( a really great guy - and a really good dancer)

I wore my prom dress and after midnight I had a whistle in my cleavage. Women offered to blow my whistle. The men were too shy. I found out the at the end of the party that there was a bet ( 10 dollars) ... but no one followed through. Now if C- had followed though , I think she was right - we could have sold the pictures for 20 .

I think I would call that a good party.

Happy Birthday Susan!

my cat is complaining that I am not in bed.

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