in which hiyacynth pretends to be cultured
This weekend I vow to listen to music that is neither The Proclaimers nor Rufus Wainwright. I vow to dust off old CDs and remember why they've not been sold off at market.
Specifically, as I'm suffering from random, horrific missing of my sister and her brood, I will listen to French music and enjoy how good my accent sounds when I sing. Much better than my plain old speaking accent.
I will ignore, however, that much of my French music was "big" in the late 80s and sounds like it. Instead I will just listen to them croon.
I will also stop drinking beer after this one, and start cleaning my apartment. I will also consider how lovely the "indian paintbrush" paint chip I picked up will look on my living room wall.
I will not watch any more of the Firefly DVDs Sandy lent me. That way lies madness. I will also not buy more LJ space so I can have 50 icons, which would allow me to express myself in a few more burgeoning fandoms. Madness, I tell you!
ETA: OK, one more, and just a little bit of Firefly fanfic. But that's it! After that I work.
Specifically, as I'm suffering from random, horrific missing of my sister and her brood, I will listen to French music and enjoy how good my accent sounds when I sing. Much better than my plain old speaking accent.
I will ignore, however, that much of my French music was "big" in the late 80s and sounds like it. Instead I will just listen to them croon.
I will also stop drinking beer after this one, and start cleaning my apartment. I will also consider how lovely the "indian paintbrush" paint chip I picked up will look on my living room wall.
I will not watch any more of the Firefly DVDs Sandy lent me. That way lies madness. I will also not buy more LJ space so I can have 50 icons, which would allow me to express myself in a few more burgeoning fandoms. Madness, I tell you!
ETA: OK, one more, and just a little bit of Firefly fanfic. But that's it! After that I work.