Spike's Bitches 46: Don't I get a cookie?
[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.
Cats just need better PR representation.
Cats need to stop taking babies' breath, is what I'm thinking.
Speaking of, Ryan is using more Chinese with his grandparents around. For green vegetables, he doesn't use the English, but the much simpler Chinese cai (pronounced "tsai"). I've been trying to get him to say milk for a little while, but to no avail; he has, however, taken to the Chinese term niunai. In Ryanspeak it comes out as "Neener".
His bedtime toy is a frog. Strictly, it's a square of fluffy fabric, with a frog head and two arms in the middle. More strictly, it's two such frogs, so we can wash them. Anyway, I've always called them his froggy friend, because I have no imagination. Ryan knows better, and his dubbed his frog(s) Bubby. Who am I to argue?
This morning he awoke and, apparently being in no hurry to get up, instead amused himself by singing to Bubby. It amused the rest of us too.
Oh, Laura, that's so difficult.
Ryan continues to set new world records in adorableness on a daily basis.
I'm home, back in the Cackalack. Very tired, still sick, not looking forward to work tomorrow. And it might snow! WTF. It won't stick, though. It was a tough week - it always is, but this year was particularly wearing for a number of reasons. Being around B, being sick, trying to make recycling happen, and missing out on a networking opportunity. But it was still chock full of awesome, and honestly I missed my best friend, my dog, and my bartender. That's about it. That job I was waiting on is officially not going to happen, which is fine. Time to move on.
Ryan's cuteness level is lethal.
Sucks about the job, smonster. I hope being around B wasn't too sucky?
I am sitting outdoors on my last day on vacation (I fly home tomorrow), and amusingly, someone's band is rehearsing a couple houses away, outdoors very loudly, playing like...Green Day. In Mexico. This is cracking me up for some reason.
I hope being around B wasn't too sucky?
Ups and downs. Mostly the sucky parts were because I continue to find him super awesome, and he is "his own little monkey" as a mutual friend put it. I think he compartmentalizes like crazy. I don't know, I've got a lot of processing to do.
And yet, the hysterical warnings never include forcing everyone who might possibly come in contact with a pregnant woman to become vegetarians.
This may not still be true, but at one point French women were advised to avoid raw salads during pregnancy due to risk of toxoplasmosis. One of many reasons I wished to be in France during both pregnancies.
This morning he awoke and, apparently being in no hurry to get up, instead amused himself by singing to Bubby. It amused the rest of us too.
Oh man, that phase was THE BEST. These days we're bribing Dylan with television if he stays in his own bed until 7 am.
This morning he awoke and, apparently being in no hurry to get up, instead amused himself by singing to Bubby. It amused the rest of us too.
Awww.
I just had blackened tofu and butternut coconut rice. I pronounce this a very good dinner. (There was supposed to be asparagus, too, but I was tired.)
Okay, you guys: just today we got invited to a party for Saturday (6 days from now). The host wants people to dress "goth/punk."
I cannot think of 2 styles more diametrically opposed to my wardrobe.
I *so* need suggestions for what the hell I can wear. Please please please. (I'm gonna just say right now that "punk" is never gonna happen on me, for many reasons, not least of which is my clothing, which is not in any way punk-adaptable. "Goth" -- or at least what might pass for "hey, at least she tried" -- is much more likely.)
Helllllllp!
t edit
I'm really not willing to buy new clothes, so I have to work with what I have.
I'm no Goth expert, but I know you have a black skirt and a corset.
Steph, goth is going to be easiest. You have corsets, right? Go with the flow on what people think Goth is. It's a party.
Wear your corset; the flamey one would be ok, but if anyone takes exception to a pink and black corset, have Jilli text them with an ass-kicking. Wear a black skirt, doesn't matter what length. Black tights, or red, or purple or burgundy. Fishnets, in any color.
Silver jewelry, any crosses or crucifixes you have.
Anything with garnet, ruby, amythest, obsidian, amber. Unless it's a big amber happy face, maybe.
A heavy eye, red or burgundy lip.
What kind of hats do you have? Or Tim? Or just spray the hell of your hair, or tie a pony back with a scrap of velvet ribbon -- 50 cents at a Hobby Lobby or craft store.
Shoes -- anything from boots to flats.
Take a Xanax, go the party and forget it. Anyone tells you you're not dressed Goth enough, smile politely and tell them "The Queen of the Goths says I am!"