Pardon my dust

[pendamuse]

Ren­o­vat­ing, because the last theme started break­ing down and I don’t have the skills to fix it. This one has issues as well, but I’ll deal with it later. Look­ing for a  nice indus­trial theme - find­ing a theme that suits me that’s part rough ends, part scary me, part chick that likes French Tips. There’s no ready made theme for peo­ple like me, so I may have to spend a lit­tle time design­ing one. Oy.

My land­lord has put my com­plex up for sale, so I’m enjoy­ing a bot­tle (yep) of Pri­mal Roots 2011 while I straighten and make this place not look (or smell) any­thing like my neigh­bors’.  Four agents will be by tomor­row, to poke and judge and place a price on my home. I love my apart­ment but I hate my neigh­bors. I hate liv­ing with peo­ple who treat this place like pub­lic hous­ing, where noth­ing needs to be taken care of and every­thing smells like dirty bod­ies, stale cig­a­rette smoke and despair.

All I need to do now is smooth, wipe and spritz. I hope I remem­ber where I hide everything.

I started a new story this week, based on a web­site pointed in my direc­tion. It’s awful in it’s igno­rant gen­er­al­i­ties, and cocky asser­tions about reli­gions the web­mistress clearly knows noth­ing about. I can’t wait to decon­structed those feelings.



Sure, I can make that voodoo doll for your Lammas/Rosh Hashanah cel­e­bra­tion! It’s made with Ancient African Trad­ing Beads and pages from a book of Nazi Lullabies

After I told myself I would let myself be hurt again, I’m watch­ing Mas­terChef. I don’t have a dog in this fight, but like Hell’s Kitchen, I really wish the con­tes­tants had bet­ter per­son­al­i­ties. As Four went down to Three, I cheered, because mis­er­able human beings shouldn’t be allowed to cook for other peo­ple. Cook­ing is a joy. Serv­ing peo­ple is a joy. Cook­ing with a crap atti­tude spoils the entire experience.