News on the server front: still dead. Can not get email to tech support, as the hosting site is also dead. Not encouraging.
Have come to realize belatedly that I have a mostly love relationship with my breasts. My mom is still giving me the idiotic "You'd be prettier if you were smaller/less denser/took up less of the Mother Earth so move your bum, you fat cow" speech, but if I lost as much weight as she dictated, I would also lose my boobs. I'm sorry, but I'm taking up a shallow defense and saying, I like my breasts - I like the way they (recently) fill out a sweater, I like my profile from the side. The first nice thing anyone ever said about my appearance was "you have really nice eyebrows, do you get them done?" But that was in high school, and anyway....I'm overcompensating, I realize that. But. Ahem. My boobs and I are happy codependents. They're not lethal weapons, I don't run in mortal terror all that often so the bouncing isn't that big of a deal, and um...yay! Boobs!
Am eating cappucino candy canes out of the box. That may or may not be the reason I'm waxing poetic about my breasts, but I like to think it's just a small step toward loving me for me.
Re-reading
Howl's Moving Castle, then Angela Carter's
The Bloody Chamber.
Paul is going to England for the winter break, and has promised to bring me back a cd or (two). I told him to go to Muji and to Harvey Nichols, so he could have an AbFab moment. He wants to try blood sausage, but what will most likely happen is that he will end up being drunk in the pubs and making out with the first thing in jeans and a tartan scarf he sees. He's looking very forward to Scotland.
We got lost in Malibu over the weekend and found a sort of spirituality in the Santa Monica Moutain reserves..."We're going to die, and we're going to get eaten by coyotes. Rich coyotes with their SUVs and their diamond watches and pearls." By the third time of circling what appeared to be the same goddamn mountain, Paul was hallucinating ala
Lord of the Flies, and I was too far gone, laughing at him. I also found out that Paul's new ambition, besides being an Internationally!Famous!FolkRockStar! is to be an erotic writer. I think it's only so he can say he writes porn when people ask him what his profession is. I did not divulge the fact that I had been printing porn out on the office printer...except, hey, I just did. Yeah. All those pop ups you get? "You've got Porn on your hard drive!" Well, no, bozo, I just printed it out.
After finally navigating our way to the Hindu temple we had been wanting to see (Las Virgenes Canyon, I hate you), we ended up at the promenade, and ate a lot of good rice and curry at The Gates of India.
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It bothers me when people call me Ma'am, even though when I was working at the Ninth circle of Hell (ie, retail, ie, Target's guest service center) I would sort of slip into calling people who were my age, Ma'am or Sir. I don't know what it is, a passive, repressed desire to be polite? I can't kick the habit.
Have been cruising my friends ljs, and I have decided that the vast sunset of beautiful LJ icons is just a very good thing. *hats off to
kita0610 and
wintercolours and
anamchara and
antigone921 especially.
Feeling good tonight, just had to share.
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