thessalian | Entries tagged with fashion

It's sunny and warm. I'm pretty sure everyone else is thrilled to bits by this development in this stereotypically grey-wet-and-cold country, but me? I'm just glad I have prescription sunglasses. For me, sun = migraines. I'm not a summer person.

Currently experiencing that "breaking in new shoes" feeling. My new clogs are wearing gouges in various spots on my feet. Not quite as bad as the mess Docs traditionally make of my heels (I still have the scars from breaking in the pair of shoes I recently had to bin because of the massive holes in the soles), but still kind of with the ow. But it's the price I pay to actually break in the shoes, and they'll be comfy once that whole process is done. This is how I get through the breaking-in process; that and a healthy dose of "It doesn't hurt that badly" denial.

On the subject of the writing... Long story short: if I hate it and can't imagine that I will ever not hate it, that means there's nothing I need to rewrite and I'm just being my usual self-deprecating self. If, however, I look at it and think that it needs work but probably isn't that bad ... then, ironically, it means it does actually suck and requires a rewrite. How can I hate something more the better it is?

*shrug* I choose not to question. I merely note that Ch22 has been mostly rewritten and now just needs an ending. And from there it's only a chapter, two at most, until Birth Rites is finished. Then I have to figure out which of the ideas kicking around the HIPPIEverse comes next, but that can wait until I'm done with the current book. You never know; something I throw into Ch23 might lead to a definitive answer to the question of "What next?", so I'd hate to limit myself. Heh.

Yesterday was all manner of fun, if vaguely painful. And even if there was a little bit of argument with my mother. At least it was good-natured. I keep forgetting how insistent my mother can be about things she wants to see me wearing.

There was lunch - I'm a little devastated because that place in Chinatown with the Best Beef with Black Bean EVAR closed down, but we found someplace nice with a good express lunch menu. Meet-ups with my mother are a lot better than they used to be because I can actually talk about stuff that bothers me; the vents and frustrations and stresses I've got at the moment are okay to talk about to friends sometimes, but sometimes you just can't beat mother-sympathy, especially when the said mother knows how to help and when to just offer some advice and back off. That and just under half a bottle of wine, and I felt a fair bit better. Yay perspective.

Then came the shopping - if there's one thing my mother and I do well together these days, it's shop. Really, it started with a trip to Boots - Mum needed a few things, and we picked up some bits for me as well. Nothing major at that point, but I got some new lip gloss (I have this thing for flavoured lip gloss, some of you may recall) and toothpaste and some cream for that itchy, swelling eyelid that kind of works, plus this stuff that's designed to hide the dark circles that seem to be perpetually under my eyes no matter how much sleep I get. Comes of being pale, I suppose. All in all, it was good.

Then, though, there was the more fun shopping - to a point, anyway. See, one of the things that tight finances has meant is that we hadn't been able to get a copy of the new Jim Butcher novel, and my Hoodoo deserved a treat as well, we thought. So we spent some time trekking all over the West End, looking for that book. Harder to manage than you think when Borders didn't even seem to have received a shipment and was waiting on one for next week. The man I spoke to at the info desk was disappointed, and it seemed he was a fan too, so there was a nice chat. I like being the Good Customer Asking For Info; beats the couple of Rude Stupid Interrupting Twits we got mid-search... Anyway, I finally found the book at the WH Smith in the Plaza shopping centre on Oxford Street and disturbed a fair bit of clientele with the squee. I've let my Hoodoo be the first one to read it; usually, I get first dibs because I read the quickest, but this is part of the gift. Yes, it pains me. I know I'll have to wait days. But hey, sometimes you make sacrifices.

Following that, there was a window-shop for shoes. Sometime in the not-too-distant, my mother and I are going to go on the day-long quest for The Perfect Pair of Funky Shoes. Personally, I have my eye on a pair of funked-up Victorian ankle boots, but The Perfect Pair of Funky Shoes cannot truly be found without a day-long quest or a lot of time spent browsing the internet. And I can't see myself buying shoes on the internet, as I have wide feet and what size I take depends on the design of the shoe. It's a pain. Anyway, then I just popped my head into H&M to have a look at a pretty top and next thing I know, Mum's decided that I need new summer clothes and I came out with four tops, a skirt and a cardigan, and narrowly escaped going away with a pair of hemp-heeled platform open-toe shoes that I unconditionally despised but that Mum desperately wanted me to have because she insisted they looked good on me. Maybe, but if you don't think you look good, it doesn't much matter. Cue five minutes of Mum saying, "I still think those shoes looked good on you..." and us finally having a fairly good-natured argument on the lines of, "I hated them, Mum; please stop!" Sometimes we shop well together, but there's always a sticking point.

Then I came home and made steak. I was too tired to work the HIPPIEcast last night, though I desperately need to re-record Chapter 15 after royally ballsing it up the other day. So I'll do it today, following a cheap n' cheerful treat-lunch out and doing the washing-up. I think I'm destressed enough not to rush the reading this time around. Also, at some point to day I need to email Mum and say, "Yes, my Hoodoo would like to be included in the trip to see "Waiting for Godot", thank you very much". Woo!

As an aside, I'm a little bemused about the people who end up following me on Twitter. I get a fair bit of spam same as the rest of the Twitterverse, but then I end up with fantasy authors I've never even heard of (how the HELL did these people find me?), Alasdair Stuart of PseudoPod and its related podcasts (that would be down to my Hoodoo; at least I know where that 'random' friending came from...) and just ... yagh. I've recently come to the knowledge that there are people I don't know - people who do this kind of thing, and do it a lot better than I do - listening to the HIPPIEcast at the moment and it's actually kind of nerve-wracking. I know that this is to be expected, but ... Steve Ely? Alasdair Stuart? Getting into ~~arguments~~ debates with people who can write me into the ground over gender roles in fiction? What happened to my little amateur groove? AAAAAA!

Okay, I'm done with my panic attack. Now I go eat lunch.

It's Sunday morning. I was awake at half-eleven. Something is wrong with this picture.

Went out to lunch with Mum yesterday. After which, we did the traditional "I know that times are rough for you financially and so I'm going to help by getting you the things that you can't really afford to splash out on" shopping thing. This encompasses everything from expensive necessities like really decent sturdy shoes to various 'luxury' electronic items and so forth.

So we went to the following spots:

- Doc Martens store (a pair of black Doc Marten-style flat pumps which have already shredded my feet - they need breaking in as much as any other pair of Docs I've ever owned)
- MAC, a make-up brand store (eye shadow that I actually asked Mum not to get me when I saw the price tag, but she wouldn't listen; also lipstick)
- Neal's Yard (shampoo, conditioner and bath oil base; patchouli, frankincense, bergamot and sweet marjoram oils)
- Curry's (headset microphone and a clock radio with a twist - one can dock one's iPod into the thing and be woken up by one's iPod music rather than the radio or the beeping. No more cellphone used as alarm clock yay!)
- HMV (Count-from-Sesame-Street t-shirt; Parental Advisory pin badges, two DVDs on loan from Mum)

Lots of discussion, the bit about my not talking to Dad came up again but more or less gently, so that's okay, and on the whole it was a lot of fun. I don't think Mum had the vaguest clue what I meant about podcasting and stuff, but she's being supportive regardless, which is good. Gives me the warm fuzzies.

Anyway, now that I'm up, I'd better think groceries. Also consider how I'm going to put a pair of shoes on with some of the shred damage done to my feet by the new shoes. I'll work something out. It's actually not that bad if I wear socks, so... After that, I really should get some writing done. I've been slowing down on the drabble of late, partly due to the wretched cold and the disheartening effect of having lost an entire bit of drabble to computer bork. Feh. Anyway, I think I can recreate 'this is not my beautiful house' drabble from memory, and I'll have a look at the others. I promise I'll have a bit of drabble done before I switch on FFXI...

So I have new glasses now...

The opticians and my mother both talked me into varifocals this time around. Apparently, this is a much better option for me because it'll make computer work easier, and given my job and my hobbies, this is probably a good thing. So I went through the eye exams (the astigmatism in one eye got better, the astigmatism in the other eye got worse and my reading prescription remained the same, so I don't know what the hell happened to my eyes in the three years since my last eye exam) and two weeks later ... varifocals.

They're pretty. They're also giving me mild to moderate vertigo.

The thing about varifocals is that, while bifocals give you two distinct prescriptions in the one lens, varifocals shade from one prescription to the other, or something. Which means that my peripheral vision is a little bit wonky, or will be until I get used to it. So looking to the side without moving my head gets me an eyeful of blur, and I had no idea how much marching band training had made me rely on peripheral vision until I put these blasted things on yesterday. Now it's near-constant nausea and a headache of mild to moderate intensity unless I'm focusing on one specific thing, when it's a bit less at least. This is going to take some getting used to. I just wish that getting used to it didn't involve feeling quite so crappy.

Still, I also have prescription sunglasses, which rocks my world. No more bright light induced migraines when going outside and, you know, doing stuff, one hopes. Picnics and zoo trips on sunny days! Or ... you know, at least not having to spend two days suffering just because I wanted to go shopping on a sunny spring day.

And, in honour of the Brighton Below thing (still have to work on that character concept just a liiiiiittle bit more), ye icon. And Daz says he has a Gladstone-ish looking bag he can lend me for game. Whee! My friends are awesome.

I apparently really needed some sleep. I deduce this from the fact that I didn't wake up until quarter to five in the afternoon.

Now I have to go and make with the shopping, as eating would be a good thing. Of course, this week's budget is tight and there's so much to drop money on it's not even funny. Sims 2 Freetime just came out, but I won't be able to get that until next week. I've placed a bid on a Gladstone bag on eBay and am watching it carefully because the one I had my eye on? Heh; some script kiddie set something up so that a bid will be made just a little bit higher than the last highest bid. (But then again, I doubled what said script-kiddie is going to have to pay for it. Isn't that nifty?) And my FFXI content IDs have expired, but I might be waiting until Friday to renew those too, as I've at least got some extra coming in owing to two hours of overtime done yesterday, and I want to keep that extra tenner in my bank account in case someone outbids me on that Gladstone bag in the next couple of days, not to mention the whole deal with shipping.

The reason I need a Gladstone bag is simple - putting together LARP costume. In addition to the Gladstone bag, I also still need a lab coat. There was talk about possibly being able to get one from Dan, though

fearrett also offered one, and I am very grateful though the problem is whether it can actually reach London in two weeks. Well, I might take him up on it anyway. One can never have too many lab coats, maybe? As for the rest ... I've borrowed the big clompy slip-on New Rock ankle boots

dodgyhoodoo can't wear any more, I'll pull out my shades-of-brown lace skirt and ... well, I still don't know what I'm going to do for a top but I suppose if push comes to shove there's the maroon camisole shawl thing Mum got me for Christmas. Though how one wears that under a lab coat I don't know. Anyway, I'll work that out closer to the time. Now what I really need is a good safe dagger fisrep.

I'm all on my lonesome this weekend, as

dodgyhoodoo is visiting his mum. So I'm going to go get something foodlike, sit down in front of Angel eps for a bit while eating, and then we'll see what the evening brings. Potentially Sims. Sims are good. Even without the new EP. And maybe RP later. At least I've got stuff to keep me occupied.

I should at least email my mother to wish her a happy Mother's day, but that can wait 'til tomorrow.

I am fairly certain that my mother is getting me the Angel complete box set for my birthday. This does, in fact, give me the *squee*. However, the only thing I really, really, really want for my birthday?

Caffeine necklace.

I swear when I have more money, I am going to live at that store. As BPAL is supposedly supposed to renew my interest in perfume, so shall this place renew my interest in jewellery. But it strikes me as wrong that I own nothing with a caffeine molecule on it...

Running late and I don't care. This, frankly, is what flexitime is for.

Due to circumstances I'd rather not rant about right this second, I wound up too angry and frustrated to even contemplate going to bed until about half-two in the godsdamned morning. Then lay awake for at least a half-hour. The fact that I did not manage to crawl out of bed until about quarter to eight? Probably not surprising.

I have a screaming migraine, a flare-up of the stupid symptomatic hiatus hernia, intense tiredness and a general overall sense of impending dread. All I really want to do right now is sleep until Friday. Though I will settle for an end to the migraine and possibly something where my stomach doesn't feel like it's being tied in knots.

Still, the bosses are in today (I think - to be honest, I can never really tell, whatever their diaries say) and since they were in until 7pm yesterday (when the taxi I booked for them whisked them to the restaurant I also booked for them), there's likely a lot of stuff to sort out. So I'll head off and stop somewhere for painkillers and such on the way. I shouldn't be too late because there is the Tube, and I'm owed an hour's flexi on the grounds of having stayed until half-five yesterday so moving is not a massive priority. And besides, I can stay late to cover it ... provided I can move at all. Gods, I hurt.

I know, I know - whinge moan, moan whinge. The bonuses here, I suppose, involve having had dinner with mother last night during which she presented me with a metric buttload of new clothes. Less for me to have to buy, anyway. It's not all stuff I'd choose, but since when is work-stuff ever stuff I'd pick for myself? (I'd have veered away from the patterns more, personally, but fashion's weird.)

Anyway, I suppose I really should head off. I just want to go back to bed and forget the world exists for awhile. Is that so much to ask?

I don't have a 'look' per se - unless you count 'geek non-chic' as a look. However, if I wear a man's checked shirt over most of my everyday outfits, I'm suddenly wearing an interesting variation on the early/mid-90s grunge look. Think about it - baggy T-shirts, simple skirts, battered faux-Converse (or real ones, if I can be arsed) ... on its own, it's just clothes. Amazing how one extra item of clothing makes it a 'fashion statement' of some kind. Not that I care all that much about making any kind of fashion statement, mind you. I just always liked the 'baggy checked shirt over T-shirt' thing. Besides, it's also an extra layer of clothing, which is good for the winter months, and the breast pocket is good for storing my smokes and iPod.

Of course, it's a good thing that I don't actually give a shit about following fashion trends, because even with a semi-cohesive 'look', I'm remarkably out of fashion. Y'see, the 80s 'baggy T-shirt/dress thing + leggings' thing is in right now, if shop windows are to be believed. But just you watch - in a couple of years, I'll be the height of fashion ... and bored with the whole checked shirt thing, more than likely. So when the rest of the world is doing what I did this year, I'll be perusing the sales racks for the leggings and baggy T-shirt dress things that everyone else stopped buying.

( My new shoes )

Are they not nifty? Of course, I am currently having that "I am breaking in my new shoes" foot pain issue, but it's not overly bad. Certainly not much worse than my feet would normally be feeling after tromping through Camden crowds for several hours. Damn, I'd forgotten how bad that can get. Right now I'm wearing the damn things around the house because the really big issue with these things is learning how to sit down and stand up with something approaching grace. It's all relative length of legs - I'm 4.5 inches taller in these things. It's a bit weird. Still, tons of fun.

Camden ... not so fun. Most of the Market looks like a fucking shopping mall now. I am not kidding. They've actually given a lot of it wooden floors and ... yeek. It's like Sanrio for the counterculture as well - they've made most of it so abominably ... fluffy. Some of my favourite goth-clothes holes in the wall are just ... gone. The selection at the Black Rose has suddenly turned to absolute shit and that hippie shop across from Cyberdog, with the nifty tea room upstairs and books with titles like "Better Sex Through Chemistry", where I went with

ninja_arzt when he visited? Gone. Poof. Vanished. Half the stores aren't what they used to be, and ... it just makes me so very sad. At least Resurrection Records is still there, and Cyberdog's still as populated as ever - there was a guy dancing on a platform next to the DJ booth in the foyer, and it made me smile.

Don't know what to think about the guy I passed on my way to Mornington Crescent station who started yelling, "Now you are fit! You are FIT!" at me. Yeeeeeeeah. Anyway.

The cat went on an utter crack-run when I got home, but seems to be settled now. So I'm going to potter off (in my huge stompy Mary Janes) and get myself some caffeine and some painkillers (there were screaming kids everywhere today - they haunted me, I tell you) and then go beat on Crawlers and Goblins and Bees (oh my) in FFXI for a bit. Whee for the weekend!

List of things I want to buy next month:

* One of the not-online "Devil's Panties" graphic novels
* The "Alternative Lifestyle" T-shirt from Something Positive
* The XXL-version of the Questionable Content Coffee of Doom T-shirt (scroll down) to replace my ratty nightshirt, which is falling apart.
* The Too Much Coffee Snooch T-shirt from Two Lumps.
* The "I'm Going to Start Wounding You Now" VG Cats T-shirt.
* And at least two donations to Sims 2 custom content sites.

There is method to my madness. I mean, surely y'all have noticed a bit of a theme here...

I've been reading Something Positive for years now. Questionable Content is now firmly on my all-time faves list, with Devil's Panties either ahead or behind it, depending on what I'm in the mood for. Two Lumps ... well, they're lower down on my comic-reading priority list, but Too Much Coffee Snooch is necessary. And Sims stuff ... well, I spend so much time collecting custom content that it's hard not to appreciate it.

The point is that all of these people have been providing me free entertainment for years and it's feeling like time I gave something back. So, I will go and buy things and provide them with profits. I've already purchased original art from Aeire (yes okay, two years ago), so that's one down already, but it'll be nice to actually give a little back. And then in late August, I can head over to Mac Hall's store (currently not responding; phooey). I'm thinking Littlest Elder God T-shirt...

In other news, it's too hot, I need sleep and I have new icons. When you think Silent Hill would be an improvement on your office, you should probably think about quitting, right?

Well, there's a fair bit of bad news going on, geek-wise. After some serious hunting, I finally found the RAM I was looking for, took it home ... and the decision was made to move the Frankenbox to a new case. This did not work out; now no mobo we've tried will read either HD. This, as you can imagine, has caused some serious stress. I like my Frankenbox. All my music's on it, and my Sims shit. On the plus side, we've managed to back everything up -- so far as we can tell, nothing's wrong with the discs as far as data corruption goes; they just won't boot. We're looking at a total purge and reinstall now. I'm not happy. I was particularly not happy when iMisc started throwing a hissy fit and wouldn't connect to the Internet, but I seem to have fixed this now, hence my being able to post this.

In other news, my throat hurts like buggery and my sinuses are in a bad way. I think I'm getting the tonsillitis again. Argh. I don't need this.

Well, the last bit of news is that I got bored with the blonde (and the inch and a half of root showing) and have spent the past several days trying to locate my natural hair colour in a bottle. It has taken this long because damnit, my hair is weird. It's not quite plain brown but it's not that close to mahogany or golden brown either. I think I've found something close in a golden brown but ... well, it'll do, anyway. So now I have another 15 minutes or so with more shit in my hair just so I can look about how I used to. Whee.

New discovery: No matter what I do, there really is only so far blonde I will go without professional help. Two bottles of burn-the-shit-out-of-your-scalp platinum blonde bleach dye shit, left on my head for the full recommended 45 minutes, and what comes out? Strawberry blonde. I all of a sudden don't give two shits for what my birth certificate says; I am not a blonde in disguise. I am a redhead in disguise. I am a stealth redhead. Kind of like Alyson Hannigan in S1 Buffy.

Well, at least my hair's not boring. And 'stealth redhead' is a good term.

Right. First thing I need to do is finish my just-woke-up Net surf. (Still no word from Hollow City. Argh. What is the point of having a post saying, "Please address all character acceptance queries to me" when you are not an admin and therefore only have control of who gets posting access up to a certain point?) Then I have to go out grocery shopping for tonight's dinner. Then I have to sit down and work out how best to approach my Sim City Silent Hill. Apparently, Sims 2 mirrors the SC4 files, so North is still North but East is West. So I have to look at my printed out maps and go through everything backwards. It's gonna be complicated.

Anyhow, the hour groweth late and I'd best carpe what's left of the diem.

This is why scanning in the referees' comments is the bane of my pitiable existence.

To fill you in, when a paper gets the requisite number of referees' opinions come into the office, I collect them, label them neatly, scan them and email them in a big wodge to Ham-Fisted Editor and Lady Competence. Then, when the scanning is done, I put them in the folder, all nice and neatly so that the referees' comments are sitting, in order, in the front of the file. This, you'd assume, makes sense. However, since the editors tend to want a reminder of who did the commentary, I send the cover letter as well as the anonymised comments (if there are any, and the stupid referee hasn't submitted the whole thing as email body text). So it's all put there together, so I have to rescan the anonymised version when I need to send the authors the commentary so the authors don't know who's slagging them off.

Anyway, you'd think it would be easy, wouldn't you? You'd guess that Ham-Fisted Editor, when writing the decision letters, would take out the referees' comments separately to the actual paper, then put them back in something resembling order. However, he doesn't. Sometimes, it would appear from today's misadventures, he doesn't actually put the comments back at all. (Again, I swear he eats them.) So from my nice, tidy separation of documents and easy scans, I am reduced to digging around through the folder, going back to the computer and finding out what he's misplaced so that I can reprint it before I can scan the documents.

Needless to say, this takes a lot more time.

I want to throttle that man.

Incidentally, I am going to dye my hair again over the weekend. This time I am going to go very light - platinum blonde. Partly this is because I need to do something so that my mother doesn't mention my roots on Tuesday, but it's also partly because I'm bored and figure that, if I don't like it, I can just dye it something else. After all, anything's going to take well on a base that light.

So, after running around Oxford Street like a total spazmoid, I eventually found new footwear that a) matched the approximate description of what I wanted and b) didn't entirely break the bank. So I walked out of some no-name creepy store (you know the type; the ones that look like they're squatting on the premises selling a bunch of stuff that fell off the back of a lorry, which probably isn't far wrong) with a reasonably comfortable pair of grey faux-suede faux-Timberlands. £20. Not bad. Watch them fall apart in three months.

Next item is going to have to be a nightshirt, but I just did not have the time today. After getting off High Holborn and into an area where one can actually shop (I considered just going into Black's and getting a proper pair of hiking boots, and then noticed that the even remotely attractive ones started at £60 and thought "FUCK NO"), then wandering around looking for a reasonably priced anything in London (I actually could have got a pair of proper Timberlands for £50 but they didn't have a colour I like and I'm not going to pay £30 over the odds for something I don't even want just because it has a brand name on it, thank you), then actually buying the damn things and finding someplace where I could buy socks so I didn't have to wander around with my right big toe sticking out of my shoes anymore, there wasn't much time to do anything else. (Wow. That was the run-on sentence from hell, wasn't it?) Despite buying a very quick lunch at El Cheapo Sandwich Place and scoffing said sandwich hurriedly on the Tube on the way back, I was still fifteen minutes late back to work. Oh well. Not like I haven't been working like a dog today anyway.

Yeah, there's the thing. James said that he would take charge of the list of papers that have been awaiting commentary for over three months. Did he? DID HE BOLLOCKS. So that's how I've spent my morning; going over the T-cards, sending out reminder e-mails, making a list to send to Peter and Hilary so that maybe they can get something done about it... Though that last is going to be a laugh a minute because they still haven't taken any decisions on the last lot of papers over three months that I gave to them six weeks ago. Rumour has it that they'll only be in the office to attend a board meeting in the afternoon, which means that half the day will be spent running around like headless chickens, the other half will be spent in the board meeting and they won't get anything done. Rrrgh.

But I have boots. And there will be Benihana later. Just ... remind me never to say "Today might not be so bad", please? The world so loves to prove me wrong.

Payday!

I'm not so sure what's so rewarding about payday. I suppose I could be nice and say something about how it's solid proof that all the slog we go through in the office five days a week pays off in the end, but while that's true, I don't think that's the main reason I like payday. I tend to think it's the sight of a barren bank account coming suddenly to life, like a radioactive Chia Pet. Either that or I just like the ability to go out and buy things I need.

I'm going shopping at lunchtime. I need some new footwear. My white faux-leather trainers are breathing their last. My 3-hole Docs are dead. My suede heels, which I've had for about 11 years now, died, rose as zombies, clacked through the night in unholy torment for awhile and then got "Bullet in the instep - squish" by very confused zombie hunters who turned fashion police and were last seen on What Not To Wear, decapitating Trinny and Susanna for raising the Ghosts of Fashion Victims Yet To Come. Or maybe that was all in my head, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm running out of shoes. DoomBoots, while still standing, are not really work-friendly footwear. Unless you're in a hospital. Or can get away with anything. Or can be arsed to shove them on your feet and ankles at eight in the morning while the cat is trying to eat the laces and be petted all at the same time.

Shoes. Right. Need new shoes. And at least one nightshirt. Nightshirts with holes are one thing. Nightshirts with holes that aren't even in interesting places? Not so much.

And then off to Benihana. Mmm. Hibachi...

Today might not be so bad.

Did the blonde thing. Went very well on the roots, so those are sort of a gold colour. However, while it's not 100% dry yet, it shades down from strawberry blonde to something about a shade lighter than my normal hair colour now, despite my using two bottles of goo. It looks singularly bizarre. I think I'm going to avoid going out in public as much as possible until I have to go back to work. It's not like I go many places these days anyway.

Also got some silver hoop earrings which I intend to not take out for at least two months. It's time my ears got used to having things stuck through those holes again.

Feh.

I have a theory: all fashion designers are devout, Bible-thumping Christians who believe that all women should be punished for Original Sin. Why the hell else would there be this huge big deal about underwire bras and high-heeled shoes? Wandering around for a day in clothes designed to blend into a private sector office setting has been a real education after all these years. The only thing NHS really has going for it is the ability to get away with wearing one’s DoomBoots in the office. Still, the job’s pretty cushy when compared to some of the stuff I was pulling in the NHS, so I really shouldn’t whinge.

Anyway, yesterday was Mage, when the entire party went on a voyage of self-discovery and existential angst. ( And you know that's going to be a hoot... )

Just a brief at-work update, though the majority of the write-up went on last night. When I get home, I must actually try to do some writing on something that isn’t Mage, though I’ve been doing a lot better at that recently. Yet again, it’s the problem of too many projects and not enough me. Argh.

Headless-chicken-dash ends.

Went shopping. Went to Marks & Spencers and was just on my way out when a jolly-looking black lady of a certain age says, "I love your boots". That's about the tenth time that some random person off the streets has commented on the DoomBoots. My feet garner attention. Wow. Found my candle holder after much effort and even found a nice candle snuffer. Didn't bother with the oil burner in the end -- I'll go elsewhere for that, I think. Somewhere that's not Enfield.

Note to Self: Tesco on a Saturday afternoon -- NEVER ABLOODYGAIN. Children of all ages running rampant, old people shuffling down the aisles at the approximate speed of arthritic tortoises, housewives nagging their husbands either in person or via mobile phone, the shelves I wanted constantly blocked by people who browse for five minutes and then don't actually get anything from that shelf ... argh. I think the worst of it was the lady who rammed into me with her shopping cart; it hit my basket, which in turn hit my leg. It wasn't just a bump, either, and I think I'm going to bruise. I repeat -- never abloodygain.

But now I'm home and safe and I have everything I need for atomic chili. So now I can just relax and wait for guests to arrive. I like getting the running about stuff over and done with a good long while before guests arrive so I don't look like a complete crackhead getting things ready instead of actually paying attention to said guests. As the guests are good friends rather than guests, I'm sure some people think it's silly to worry, but it's either part of my charm or something people had better learn to put up with. Either way. ^_^

Somewhere in the depths of my just-woken-up mind, I am having a girlie moment. I'm off to meet Exeterian lunatics this afternoon and I'm mentally perusing my wardrobe for something that's appropriate. Then again, I'm not even sure what constitutes 'appropriate' with that lot so I'm sort of wasting my time. I'll likely stick with the knee-length denim skirt and Eva jumper, unless it's too cold for skirts, in which case my olive-drab track suit bottoms and whatever T-shirt I can find that's basically clean. And now I realise that I'm having a girlie moment with "bachelorette who hasn't done the laundry recently enough" overtones, and that's just strange.

Meh. It's first thing in the morning, at least as far as I'm concerned, and my brain can short-circuit if it wants to, I suppose. I will admit that it was nice to sleep in my own bed again. Despite odd matresses, I wonder if the real problem isn't trying to sleep without the *whmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm* of the rather large fan in Frankenbox's video card and the fairly loud ticking of my alarm clock. Just goes to show what you get used to.

Yuki's been incredibly affectionate, even for her. If she's not curling up on my lap, at my side or at my feet, she's following me around with the big adorable "Puss in Boots from Shrek 2" eyes. I think someone's glad I'm home. Not that

cholten99 isn't, but that was a two ships passing in the night sort of being glad I'm home.

I now start thinking about all the stuff that needs to be sorted out either today or (more likely) at the start of next week. You know, I think I'm better off with the girlie moment.

Amusing quote, incidentally, from

cholten99 after watching Eva and:

a) seeing Pen-Pen; and
b) seeing Toji expose himself to Asuka:

"I want a T-shirt. And it should say 'Evangelion broke my braaaaaaaaain...'."

And we're only at Ep 9...

* -- title courtesy

nightskywarlock

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The Thessaliad Redux

Abracadabra, Bitch

Entries tagged with fashion

Sunday News

Damn Me For An Amateur

Shopping Excursion

Vertigofocals

Rambly News

Science!

What a Pain

Smells Like Nostalgia

Height!

Support Group

The Frankenbox, she dead.

1 Non-Blonde

Scanning

Boots Bloody Boots

Dead Shoes Walking

Does this mean I have half again as much fun?

Mirror, Mirror

Relax

Attack of the Early Morning Girlie-Girl

When Angels Deserve to Die*