My copy of HP is the UK edition. I miss the illustration, but it is more handily portable.
Off to see the David before we check out. I need coffee. (And I feel no latte will ever be the same now that I've had them here. Nummy.)
Ciao!
'Time Bomb'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
My copy of HP is the UK edition. I miss the illustration, but it is more handily portable.
Off to see the David before we check out. I need coffee. (And I feel no latte will ever be the same now that I've had them here. Nummy.)
Ciao!
Back from running amok w/Perkins and Jilli.
Perkins' new hair is very cute.
I am very tired.
Unfortunatley, I didn't fulfill my dream of getting a hand on Billy Idol. They had a barracade at the front of the crowd, and there were all these tall people in front of me anyway. But I made eye contact! Yay!
First thing to know about the Vans Warped Tour. If you want to see the band, do not get up front and center. YOu will spend half your time trying to stay on your feet and the other half of the time dodging crowd surfers.
Second thing to know: Crowd surfers do not pay attention to where their feet are going. Thank god he wasn't wearing Doc or stupid platforms, the kid who kicked me in the head.
Third thing: Middle aged people are invisible. And sometimes collect weird sidelong glances, especially from kids who are trying to be sly about their pot smoking. Sunglasses are great for gazing off with apparent unconcern as you watch people.
But, Billy. Damn, the man is sex on feet. Chocolate sex on feet. Of course he took his shirt off. And he grinned a lot. But he only played for half an hour! Too many bands to fit in for anything longer. That sucked!
I'll probably be more coherent tomorrow. It was a record hot day, and Billy didn't play unti 6:30, and they weren't allowing re-entry, so I had to slink from shade to shade for eight hours. By the time Billy played, I was worried about heat prostration and just tired.
Punk bands sound alike, and most of the singers can't. Or won't. Dropkick Murphys were fun. I've never felt asphalt vibrate under my feet before.
Yay, connie! Glad you got to ogle your Idol.
Nice hair.
Lots of good hair going around tonight.
So. Back from a night out. We were at a biker bar for a while, which was cool. We planned to go back there at midnight for the Saturday night "Smut and Eggs". They serve brunch starting at midnight, and show cheesy 70s porn. Fun stuff. As it happened, we didn't go back, but ended up at a classically Chicago gay bar - one TV showing hardcore gay porn, the other showing West Wing with closed captioning.
DH saw the picture of perkins, Plei and Jilli - - " You can't tell they are friends" . He also liked Anne's haircut.
yay for billy Idol.
It also seems that I should be saying yay for porn.
Connie, glad you got to see the Idol. Was there any suggestion that he'd forgotten to be a lover?
So. I have heard back about last night, and again no one wants to get in touch with me. Running 0 for 2 so far. But will this stop me?! It'll stop me ever going to an event offered by last night's group at least. Ok, not entirely correct. They offer a free flirting workshop for anyone who got no matches, and I reckon I'll take them up on that, because I've never seen a workshop try to flirt before. And I've signed up for a second event with the first group, because I still had a lot of fun at their soiree.
But! Even more heartening - I have found a profile that genuinely piques my interest. She's a writer, her favourite authors include Tim Winton and Margaret Atwood (both of whom I've read over the past year), and on a completely shallow note, she's a redhead. I have made contact, let's see what happens.
Go, Billy, get your groove on!
Also, w00t, Connie at the concert.
Cats woke me up at 6am to be fed. They ate last night at 11pm due to Dan and me going out to dinner with his sister. No frelling way am I going to feed them now. But, heh, I do have nail clippers.
Which reminds me of when Sammie was a kitten, and anytime I would do things, such as claw-clipping, that resulted in her crying. Harvey would come and stare at me. I dunno whether he was mentally willing me to stop hurting his baby girl, or if he was supervising to make sure I did the job good. He stopped doing that once he realized it gave me easier access to him to administer whatever torture was on tap.