Added news--the photographer who took that picture of Alexandria dropped dead moments later, having had the Iman Eyebrows of Doom aimed at him.
'Out Of Gas'
Natter 70: Hookers and Blow
Off-topic discussion. Wanna talk about corsets, duct tape, or physics? This is the place. Detailed discussion of any current-season TV must be whitefonted.
DUDE. I totally missed that (I'm fixated on her face, not her life).
I take it all back. My heart is healed.
And that girl is as gorgeous as I could have dreamt.
For the record, Jilli, it totally skews my dash when you reblog me, and that's twice today. You can totally give a girl delusions of adequacy.
Ha! But you've been posting such interesting things!
Besides, I totally made up for it by posting a huge text post about Goth media drama.
Did Katy Perry say she was Goth now or something, Jilli?
I don't think SHE'S said she's Goth now, but the media has been saying it. And oh! The condemnation and handwringing from the spooky-types! Mixed with the "you're all elitist scum!" insults. It's going to be fascinating to watch.
Huh. She's so ... neon, usually.
I've also posted about OLD I am and all those computer feels I had from twenty five years ago...nary a reblog.
It's okay, Tumblr, I love you anyway.
Well, we are tucked in for the night. Phoenix lost really miserably in a nice end to a miserable day. SO is booted, but refuses to take his pain meds, because he's not in that much pain. His pain tolerance is annoyingly high, so I have no way of knowing if he really isn't in that much pain or is just stoic-ing it out. He also dislikes the way narcotics mess with his head, so I respect that, but he doesn't like any meds on general principles for liver health. I say, why not use what you have available to you to avoid making yourself miserable. But I can't force drugs down his throat. I did manage to convince him to take the high dose ibuprofen on the premise that anti-inflammatory properties were important. And he did ice some and elevate some, and I lectured him about doing what the ortho tells him.
He's worried about messing up the summer schedule and he's worried about the money.
I'm just tired. I'm out of...not spoons. What cutlery is it when it's people adjacent to you, not you yourself? I'm out of forks.
Anyway, I'm going to watch Mad Men, which I have still not gotten to, and I'm going to check on him, and I'm going to ignore the dishes and sleep.
His pain tolerance is annoyingly high, so I have no way of knowing if he really isn't in that much pain or is just stoic-ing it out.
Matilda is just the opposite! She whines over every little twinge and then we don't take serious complaints seriously half the time. Even though she currently has a fever of 103.2. (Which we can use a thermometer to get an objective measure, so that eliminates the potential for bad parental disbelief.)