valentina

I think if it's a word you enjoy, it's going to sound good when you say it, because you relish it. indarkmoon probably makes "nefarious" and all the other "-ious" words sound deliciously diabolical. And because I love a good juxtaposition, I picture darkity saying: "You know, I love all that onomatopoeia stuff, and whoda ever thunk it?" I too dislike listening to other people read their own writing. It reminds me of a Matt Groening "Life In Hell" cartoon, where Akbar and Jeff were advertising their coffee house. The open mic poetry night was billed as an "atonal hootenanny." I believe hootenanny is a good example of onomatopoeia?

Smutty Smut Smut! I'm wearing Smut-O-Rama today! I still can't believe I like something with musk in it and I'm actually wearing it. It took teh Smut to make that happen! In the two word review thread, I called O "satiated sweat" (because it still smells a bit like b.o. to me, but in a clean, happy and pleasant way.) I think if you're grinning like a dope while wearing Smut, it could be called "satiated smile."

First of all, I'm sending my wishes that the hiring frenzy spilled over on your DH and he'll get the job. With the stress of losing your mom, I'm hoping you don't have to deal with the stress of moving. That said, I have always wanted to move, but I'm seemingly always hooked up with someone who doesn't want to move. During my first marriage, I almost moved to Portland (home of the darkity!) because I had a job offer, but I decided(correctly) that the relationship wasn't going well enough and I didn't want to be going through a divorce in a new city. However, I regret not being in Portland a lot. I also did some long-distance job-hunting in the Seattle area, and if had to pick, I'd go there. If your DH gets a job in CA, look at it this way, you could go to the BPAL Lab when they have their will-calls! (Is this the sign of a junkie, or what?) But the place where I most want to move is Austin, Texas. I visited that city and fell in love with it. I had no idea that it would grab me the way it did, but that's always what happens when you fall in love. But for now, I'm in that other capital city that's 3 states north of Texas... Very best of luck to you guys keep us posted!

Yesterday I went to the hairdresser and she and I contemplated the condition of my hair. I apparently became a little impatient with the hair styling process when I was still really harried at work, and I turned my flattening iron up WAY too high. That, dear readers, can produce nice short-term results and nasty long-term results. I have a thing about fried-looking hair, and here I had it on my own head. So I had her cut about 3 inches off the bottom. She's also starting to grow out a few of the layers, so what I have today is effectively a longer and wilder version of a Louise Brooks bob. My hair is still at the middle of my neck, so it's hardly as bobbed as LuLu's, but it has that wedge effect. I thought this was a drastic change, so I walk into my office after getting my hair done and one person noticed. I walked back in this morning and a couple of other people (who would have said something if they'd noticed) didn't notice much of a change. Isn't it weird how we always scrutinize ourselves so intently and expect others to do the same? I think as long as person is clean and well-groomed and doesn't display pet peeve irritants (such a French manicured toenails or artificial nails with rhinestones that may pop off and land in your lap), people really don't notice the little nuances unless you're a very visually oriented person. So now I know that someone with a fried hair pet peeve won't be standing around, looking at me, thinking "eeeewww!" Odd subreference with BPAL elements: I was looking at minilux's BPAL icons and noticed that Louise Brooks was pictured in a couple of icons, one being for the scent Beatrice. There's a town in my state called Beatrice; it's about 35 miles directly south of where I reside. However, it's not pronounced the way the woman's name Beatrice is commonly pronounced, which is "BEE-uh-truss." No, people call this town "Bee-AT-triss." (And put a hard midwestern "r" in the last syllable.) I do not know the source of this trend, but people where I live will jokingly pronounce the name of the town "Beat (as in the beat goes on)-Rice (as in the grain.) I don't recall what was in the scent Beatrice, and I don't think it was something that I would have enjoyed, but even if I had, it would have been terribly difficult to not tell people that I was wearing "Beat-Rice" that day. Story that was jarred loose in my brain as a result of darkity's story from the other day, about the fake nail popping off the girl's hand on the bus and landing on darkity: A long time ago, I was eating with a then-boyfriend in a Grisante's restaurant. We were at a table that was separated from another table by a divider that was probably 4 feet high. At the other table was a couple with their young son (about 5 or 6 years old) and one set of grandparents. The kid was wired for sound anyway, and Grandpappy was not making matters better, because he kept saying to the tyke: "So are ya all excited it's your birthday? Do you think you're gonna have lots of presents when we get home? Huh? Huh?" The kid was thrashing around, kicking and waving his arms. A waitress, hoping to provide a calming influence, gave the kid some crayons so he could draw on the paper that was put on the tabletop over the tablecloth. Didn't work. Then, I looked down at my plate to take another bite of whatever it was that I was eating, and a crayon suddenly plopped down in the middle of my plate. The kid had lost control of the crayon in his hot little hand as he was waving his arms around and it landed in my pasta. The mother was mortified, grandpappy was unrepentant and the kid was too crazed from being driven into a frenzy by his apparently sadistic grandpaps to even notice. A waiter saw it happen, came over, grabbed my plate and told me he was providing me with a replacement. My boyfriend said that the look on my face, as I handed the crayon back to the mother, should have caused the entire table to turn to salt and crumble away. People! I wasn't really mad at the kid, but his adult entourage needed to have their butts kicked.

"You say 'Paul-leena, I say Paul-ey-na, let's call the whole thing off..." And the pronounciation of Couch as "Kooch," aside from the obvious humorous innuendo, reminds me of the way that Latka Gravis on "Taxi" would have pronouced the word "couch." "You want Latka drive you to Kooch Street? Yadda ibby dibby dabba!" Madrid, Nebraska, pronouned not like the city in Spain, but Mad-RID (and put that hard midwestern "r" in it again.)

Things to celebrate: It's going to be around 80 degrees here tomorrow! Woot! It's been almost chilly for a month now and I am getting the urge for some semi-hot weather. Remind me I said this when I'm complaining about the weather in July. I maintained my self-control and ordered a 10 ml of O and one bottle of Lithia. That's all. I get my hair done tomorrow. It's just entirely too long for me to stand it right now. I did the trip to my mother's care center, the dinner and my trip home with equanimity. The drive was pleasant. I listened to Shawn Colvin on the way down and she was good preparation. I'm leaving work now to go to yoga class. I think doing some yoga is going to jar loose a few mental blocks that I've been struggling with all day long. It's worth a try... Music in my CD player: Bob Schneider, "Lonelyland." Because Baby Bob just rocks my world! And he's always something to celebrate!!!!

I love that flooring!!! Cool!!!

I tested this one, even knowing that exotic florals are a bane to my existence. And in the imp, I loved the way it smelled. Heavy, exotic florals and spice. Something very akin to how the Hanging Gardens of Babylon would have smelled -- the perfume of the flowers, the spices of the city. On my skin, it's very heavily floral and hell if I know what kind of floral it is -- I live out here on the prairie, and gardenias and jasmine are hardly indigenous to this region. All I know is that it turns into a smell akin to icky week-old flower vase water. That "essence" calmed down after a while and the blend became a little spicier, but still not the least bit pleasant. I took a bath and washed it off. Maybe my geographical location affects the way exotic florals smell on me, and if Beth ever did a scent called "The Sacred Whore of the Prairie," it would work on me. It would be something that Miss Kitty on "Gunsmoke" would have worn.

I hope the "wicked winkers" got some rest last night!

Good luck on Wednesday!!!! I'm sure the adreneline will kick in and your brain will bust right past all the burn-out when test time arrives. Again, I'm pulling for you. You have been working your butt off and you should give yourself a well-deserved reward once all the studying, test-taking and apartment cleaning are finished. At the very least, spend some quiet time with your micro roses and your Rusty...

I was planning to not order any BPAL this month and now, at the ides of May, I am considering what could almost be classified as a rather large order. Self control: gone, gone, gone!! I want to order Litha, because the honey mead and honeysuckle elements can not be resisted. I also need a 10 ml of O, because I use it almost like I breathe air. Then, yesterday, I decided to test Kumiho again and I believe I must have a bottle. I am also terribly intrigued by Baobhan Sith; it sounds like it could be a winner. I love grapefruity scents. When it gets totally hot and steamy in July and August, I know I won't be wearing Smut as an everyday scent. I need my options. And there are my rationalizations. I can be pretty cheeky in my lack of concern about "appropriate" daytime workplace scents. In interest of juxtapositions, it's kind of fun to wear "business appropriate" clothing and a smoldering scent. Hee hee. I get my hair done on Wednesday, and I can hardly wait. Last visit, I told the most wonderful Brandi not to cut very much off the bottom. She complied with my wishes, but suggested that next time, it might be a good idea to neaten up the edges. She's no fool; she knew it would grow so much and get so freaking long that it would be driving me nuts by now. We're planning to put some more blonde highlights in it just to add to that summery kissed-by-the-sun look. Speaking of the sun, maybe I'm attracted to the scent Baobhan Sith because they were the "ghostly white women of the Scottish highlands" and I'm part Scottish and I'm just about that white. This weekend, I purchased some of the tanning body lotion and it's helping. I'm not looking to become the San Tropez tan girl, but it would be nice not to have legs that look like a couple of glo-sticks heading your way. Today's BPAL: Smut and O (aka Smut-O-Rama) Today's underwear: Tangerine bra and bikinis with a retro tattoo design print Today's music in the CD player in my car: "Polaroids" by Shawn Colvin

I wish you were in my town, I would take you over to Brandi the Wonderful and have her do a fix on your hair!!!!

Tonight I'm going to my home town (a small town an hour and half away) to put in my appearance at a post-Mother's Day mother-daughter dinner at the care center where my mother lives. My mother has Alzheimer's disease and while she's still coherent enough, she typically thinks she's still a teacher in a school, only this one is a boarding school. Hey, whatever works. I'm the youngest of three kids -- my brother is 12 years old and my sister is 10 years older. My brother used to call me Boo-Boo when I was a little kid, probably derived from the Yogi Bear cartoons, but also a pretty apt descriptor of my appearance on the scene. Somewhere in between the birth of my siblings and my birth, my mother really, really changed. My memories of my mother are more akin to my nieces (the oldest being 12 years younger than me) than my brother's or sister's. And they're not especially pleasant. When my mother started showing signs of dementia, I thought she was getting abruptly nicer; my brother and sister thought she was getting meaner. So when I tell people that my mother has Alzheimer's and they say they're sorry, I tell them thank you, but it's OK. It's a tragedy for my mother, of course, and for my siblings. For me, it's watching someone who never especially liked me leave and be replaced by someone who doesn't mind my existence. Of course, it would have been so much better for her to have retained her brain functions, and simply have come to terms with the demons that I represented. But it didn't work out that way. I think a lot of her anger towards me was due to my "Boo-Boo" status and the fact that I had the audacity to represent the gene pool on my father's side of the family. I was also very close to my maternal grandmother when she was alive, and I think there was also a certain jealousy there -- my mother didn't want to share her mother with anyone, much less me. My paternal grandmother died when I was about 3 or 4, and I barely remember her. No one really talked about her that much, even my father. But with my mother's loss of short-term memory, she talks a lot about the things still stored in her brain. I've found out a lot about my paternal grandmother's personality as a result of those little memory fragments, and my internal reaction is typically: "Oh, that's where that came from..." Meaning, those elements in my personality that seem rather foreign when taken in context to my siblings. Ah, so I looked like my father's rogue uncles (that's another story), I was her mother's favorite grandchild and she had to watch her mother-in-law's personality bubble up out of me. It was probably too much for her to take. Not that it excuses how she treated me, but obviously she was too angry about too many things that I embodied. I'll never know her reasons for being so angry -- part of the rules of my family were to not talk about feelings or ugly behaviors. Disassociation rules the day, and I've learned that it's a waste of breath to try to force issues. And over the years, and with a lot of help, I've developed equanimity around the matter. It was my only choice, really, in order to break the cycle of anger and lashing out. As a friend of mine once said, we all need family, but they need not be our relatives. It will be a nice day for a quiet drive, a little visit, and then a drive home. My mother won't remember yesterday was Mother's Day, but she will be happy to see me, happy to get attention, happy to get the teddy bear that I'll give her (for that is the level she's at), and happy to see me leave. And I'll feel the same way, although in so many ways, I left the family a long time ago.

In the imp, Kumiho is tart and gingery -- almost pungent to my nose. Once on the body, it's a brisk, cool, ginger and white tea scent to me. It's very, very clean, very fresh, just gorgeous. It does not morph one little bit, it keeps its balance between the ginger and the tea, and it holds on. For me, this is great summer scent -- a perfect antidote to steamy, humid days.

Happy Mother's Day (in advance) to everyone out there who's a mom to a human kid, and also to everyone else who has pets, since they certainly do become our babies! So here's my kidz... Mugzy and Ella Bean. Mugzy's a Boxer and Ella Bean is a Basset. Mugzy and Ella were both abandoned dogs found during cold, snowy winters. Mugzy was found wandering down a country road by a farm family, who located his then owner. The owner said to shoot him. Thankfully, they knew they had a sweet, sweet dog on their hands and turned him over to Boxer Rescue. The poor little guy had pneumonia, but he recovered nicely and came to live at my house 5 years ago. The Mug-Bug is the sweetest man on the planet. He is utterly devoted to me and he follows me everywhere. Now that he's getting to be an older guy, I cherish every day that he's still here. Ella Bean was sighted wandering near the Interstate in a rural area. Her rescuers had quite a time catching her, because she'd probably lived on her own for a while. She was eventually captured and turned over to a shelter. She was a wreck when she came to live at my house; she was stressed, skinny and extremely distrustful of humans. She has a big lump on her ribcage, the probable result of being kicked. But two years later, she's a squishy, happy, devoted little soul. Basset feet are the cutest things on the planet. I never knew I could be so endlessly charmed by dog's tooties! We all work out our maternal instincts one way or the other, don't we??

Miss Ella Bean, Basset Queen, is actually wearing a bandana, but it was one that was made by someone for a much taller dog. Stubby-Ella (one of her nicknames) always looks like a little kid dressed up in adult's clothing whenever I put a banadana on her! I got a doggie ballerina costume for her at Halloween and the tutu around her low-slung tubular body was a bit of a scene. For the record, I really love cats, I just don't own any right now. I also have a cockatiel named Herb D. Byrd who rides around on my shoulder, and while birds and cats can acclimate to each other (especially if you get the cat as a wee kitten), then there's the issue of protecting the wee kitten from the dogs until order is established. It's just too much multi-tasking for my brain to contemplate. I didn't mention Herb D. Byrd in my Mother's Day note because he is inappropriately and excessively bonded to me and considers me his wife, not his mother.

about the Kenny Rogers restaurant story! You got a good laugh and then good food, so that was a great ending! I'm mulling over an order that I am itching to make... I told myself I'd hold off after having 3 outstanding orders at one time! But not having an order out there just makes things seem a little empty, ya know?

Hi Sookster! A fellow foot fetishist arrives! fuchsia toenails? I have a particular penchant for that color on toenails... it's very sassy, evocative and just plain cheeky. I have been out planting seeds in my flower garden and I am very dirty. I can be a semi-tomboy when I want to be. A friend who is truly a grown-up tomboy (do they become earth mothers?) clarified the distinction for me once -- grown-up tomboys go plant the seeds, get dirty, come in, wash their hands and face, change clothes and go about the rest of their day. Fair-weather tomboys (like me) go get really dirty, then come in, drink a lot of water, then eat a little something, then make a mimosa or a wine spritzer and go take a long bubble bath. Afterwards they redo their nails. So I guess she knows me fairly well...

Ah, another fan of O who was giantly tempted by the update! I wanted to order a 10 ml of O and was putting it off, but then I saw the update and now I'm ruminating again... anything with honey mead and honeysuckle gets attention, doesn't it? I saw there was going to be a GC scent called Groupie coming out sometime in the near-ish future. Hoo boy, I want to hear what's in that. It would go so well with my naughty girl pantheon of scents (Beaver Moon, Panty Monster, O, Smut). I think minilux said that Beth liked Joe Perry (of Aerosmith) also, so I hope it evokes what a Joe Perry groupie would wear to attract his attention. Whatever that would be. That made no sense. But O is the most divine scent, isn't it? I mix it with a lot of things and wear it on its own. It's just plain

The Dragon's Milk icon is SO CUTE!

Remember Thomas Hardy's book "Return of the Native?" Well, today was the Return of Teh Smut to my abode. I'd ordered multiple bottles of Smut when it came out in February, but Smut, my body chemistry, wintertime clothing and heating systems running all day long just didn't match up very well. It got a little overwhelming. And I hadn't really adjusted to wearing something that didn't have a lot of patchouli in it. I was still wearing Urd day in and day out. I sold or swapped my bottles of Smut. So fast forward to May; it's warmer, my body chemistry is in the spring/summer mode, and I've become very habituated to both O and Monster Bait: Underpants. I began to get a jones for some Smut. I was kicking myself for not keeping a bottle. So I went to "Wanted" in Swaps and begged for some Smut. I got it! Actually, I got two imps and a bottle! This way, I'm able to share an imp with a friend. The two imps arrived today and I did a test run of Smut all alone and then a test run of Smut with O. What would that be called? Smut-O-Rama? I like that idea. Smut and Smut-O-Rama both work on my seasonally adjusted body chemistry, breezier clothing and the furnaces shut off. I am happy that I will soon have a bottle of Smut to sit between O and the Panty Monster. Did you see the Lotus Moon t-shirt? I adore Ganesha, the elephant-headed Hindu diety. He represents good fortune, happy beginnings and learning, particularly in the arts and humanities. The design is beautiful and regal. All of Macha's designs are great, but this one really grabbed me. Needless to say, I ordered one already. And it's my good fortune to be able to own one!

Ah, the "demanding diva bitch banshee" comment is why I love the darkity. But seriously, moving is up there on the list of big-time pains in the ass (or as the pop psych people say, "stressful events.") Buying a home makes it even more of a mind-bend. It is fine to be stressed out and insane, IMHO. All your comforting routines are shot to hell. Why wouldn't you feel whack? I'm sorry about the Mister's low-grade depression. I'm genetically predisposed to the same sort of thing. Stress truly does make it worse and about a year and a half ago I did some fabulous stack-blowing as I talked on the cell phone as I drove down the street to my doctor's office. I hope he finds a 'scrip that works for him. I have a good friend who ended up in the emergency room about two weekends ago because she had the heart attack symptoms. It was stress and anxiety, but it was scary as hell. darkity has a very good attitude and seems pretty self-aware to me. Once the move is over, the routines can resume, new ones can be established, and you and the Mister can resume a feeling of normalcy. Wish I wasn't half a country away, or I'd help you move. My muscles from the gym have to be good for sumthin', ya know? I could put on a Rocky Balboa accent and periodically yell: "Hey Adriene!" at you during the movie, providing either comic relief or additional irritation. Maybe it's a good thing I'm not there. But to you guys. I'm thinking about you.

Because I'm here in Nebraska, I turn to bovine anatomy and refer to particularly ugly feet as "hooves." I use it in a variety of gramatically incorrect ways, such as: "She has rather hoofish feet." You guys crack me up! I am so glad that I am not alone in my abhorrence of bad feet on public display. Honestly, there have been very few adults in my life who had feet that I would want to touch. How do pedicurists do it? Grossaroo and Tyler Too! I mean, some people have heels that would require a belt sander! Ugh! Did anyone catch my suggestive (can I write an entry without it?) comment that your feet should be able to go all over the body (someone elses?) without accidentally drawing blood? If someone wants to put up with my feet (buffed, softened, nicely trimmed nails and unchipped polish), they have been known to go walking!

Woooot! I went to coffee at noon with some friends who don't go to my customary coffeehouse (a much more bohemian place). The place where we meet is an in-state franchise, kind of a Starbucks-for-people-who-don't-want-to-go-to-Starbucks place. Not a lot of soul, but it's clean and well-lit and in a converted old department store. Right across the hall is a funky little store called The Uncommon Market. It sells used clothing and some new clothing, plus the owner of the store makes her own creations. It's fun. I had to wander over there, just 'cause, and found a long-sleeved Custo Barcelona shirt. It was pristine and looked almost unworn. The colors are a bit like darkitysnark's walls, that is, bright , and the design is a bunch of big ol' samari/sumo wrestler guys. It cracked me up. And it was $7! I bought it. I know the snobby fashionistas would say that Custos are so passe, but I am always amused by them. Especially for $7. The bitches cost around $175 if you purchase them new. It's supposed to be cool tomorrow, only in the low 60's, I may have to wear it to work. My favorite way to dress, if I can get away with it, is to wear something funky with something rather sober. Juxtapositions like that can be rather entertaining. So has anyone else looked at/tried on an Ed Hardy shirt? I love his retro tattoo artwork and even went so far to try on a few t-shirts, but holy hell, they cost around $70 or $80. I just couldn't. And anyway, I'll find one at The Uncommon Market in a year or two for $7.

If darkity saw me today, she would give me a scolding for teasing her about the bright colors on her walls! Everyone says to me: "You are so colorful today..."