Is it really the end of the long weekend? Already?
Oh, FINE. Maybe I'm a tiny bit jealous that all you had such fun, exciting New Year's Eves, full of drinking, and friends, and games, and staying up too late. Not that it's not my fault for being such a wuss and staying in away from the snow, but my evening of doing dishes and going to bed early just doesn't compare.
Not that going to bed early (-er, than usual) has been all that useful in attempting to get more sleep, which is, incidentally, my January resolution -- I have terrible insomnia these days. Can't get comfortable, itchy all the time, way too hot in my bedroom even with the window wide open and the fan on. Even when I finally fall asleep, hours after I go to bed, I keep waking up. It sucks, you know? But I will triumph! Maybe I'll start taking post-work naps. Or, oooh, lunchtime naps.
In conclusion, I think "In Translation" is my favourite Lost season 1 episode, I had to take my books back to the library before I could read them (so sad!), and the Girls' Bike Club CD is fucking brilliant.
BPAL of the Day:
Wanda
"And yet a restless,always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism," she interrupted, "but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection.It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff,while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour,but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris,beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you,nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world."
Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a 21st century Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes. While Loviatar is the Goddess of Pain, Wanda governs Control. She is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch's fantasies. Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather,sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle.
I would never have picked this out -- I mean, roses and violets are usually big warning signs for me -- but I tested it at a smelling party a couple of orders ago, and I loved it. I think it's the wine. So far every scent with wine that I've tried has been wonderful.
Not that going to bed early (-er, than usual) has been all that useful in attempting to get more sleep, which is, incidentally, my January resolution -- I have terrible insomnia these days. Can't get comfortable, itchy all the time, way too hot in my bedroom even with the window wide open and the fan on. Even when I finally fall asleep, hours after I go to bed, I keep waking up. It sucks, you know? But I will triumph! Maybe I'll start taking post-work naps. Or, oooh, lunchtime naps.
In conclusion, I think "In Translation" is my favourite Lost season 1 episode, I had to take my books back to the library before I could read them (so sad!), and the Girls' Bike Club CD is fucking brilliant.
BPAL of the Day:
Wanda
"And yet a restless,always unsatisfied craving for the nudity of paganism," she interrupted, "but that love, which is the highest joy, which is divine simplicity itself, is not for you moderns, you children of reflection.It works only evil in you. As soon as you wish to be natural, you become common. To you nature seems something hostile; you have made devils out of the smiling gods of Greece, and out of me a demon. You can only exorcise and curse me, or slay yourselves in bacchantic madness before my altar. And if ever one of you has had the courage to kiss my red mouth, he makes a barefoot pilgrimage to Rome in penitential robes and expects flowers to grow from his withered staff,while under my feet roses, violets, and myrtles spring up every hour,but their fragrance does not agree with you. Stay among your northern fogs and Christian incense; let us pagans remain under the debris,beneath the lava; do not disinter us. Pompeii was not built for you,nor our villas, our baths, our temples. You do not require gods. We are chilled in your world."
Along with Loviatar, she has become something of a 21st century Patron Goddess of all Dominatrixes. While Loviatar is the Goddess of Pain, Wanda governs Control. She is the breathtakingly beautiful sable-wrapped marble queen of Sacher-Masoch's fantasies. Her scent is a deep red merlot with a faint hint of leather,sexual musk and body heat over crushed roses, violets and myrtle.
I would never have picked this out -- I mean, roses and violets are usually big warning signs for me -- but I tested it at a smelling party a couple of orders ago, and I loved it. I think it's the wine. So far every scent with wine that I've tried has been wonderful.