We worked on painting and other house chores this weekend. Alas, decorating didn't happen yet. Pics of the 4 four legged members of the family in the mix. [link]
Spike's Bitches 38: Well, This Is Just...Neat.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I miss the cold. I miss snow. Although, the slightly chilly & rainy weather we've had in SoCal of late has been comforting.
Only sixteen more days until I return to the frozen midwest for Christmas! Hurrah!!
Someone once said, "there is no bad weather, only bad clothing."
A Scot, of course. It was one of the lines in Billy Connolly's stand-up routine: "There's no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothes."
The topic reminds me of the Christmas break I spent with Dad in Dhaka, Bangladesh, when they had a cold snap and overnight lows dropped into the mid-50s (Farenheit). People were dying of exposure.
I'm kinda drunk. I don't usually drink this much. Especially on a Sunday afternoon.
It looks like crazy, JW, preaching thru my screen door lady is moving. Rather suddenly. Seems her daughter kicked her out (the daughter owns the apartment).
This means no more crazy lady talking to me through my front door trying to 'convert' me & get me to her Jonestown meetings.
:: does happy dance ::
He seemed too good to be true.
How does he play in person?
In exciting magazine news, my local shop stopped carrying Gothic Beauty so I was happy to pick up the last issue at Pegasus Books in Berkeley. I thought, "This seems like a particularly Jilli issue what with the big ad by Kambriel, the Voltaire profile and the Steampunk fashion spread."
And there she was on page 11 at the Goth Convergence. (The report of which was super gossippy and catty and fun.)
Also got Tiki Magazine to inspire my liner note gig that has to be done this week. Plus the official 1972 Pittsburgh Pirates Yearbook for my friend Chip.
Oh, and the Rock and Roll Comics issue on The Cure.
What's up with the drunken bug, vw?
What's up with the drunken bug, vw?
A few too many mimosas. I have a feeling this will be my Sunday ritual for a while.
I take it you were at a tree-trimming party.