I, Consumerist
Hello Internet! This is what I look like today:
and if you are bored/would like to please me you too ought to take a picture of yourself in your work loo/other handy reflective surface and post it in the comments here.
Today we had various BigWigs coming to visit the office where I work, including various members of the W.H.O. (my favourite was a lady from Bolivia who came in national dress and gave me the opportunity to exercise my pidgin Spanish) so this morning I was making an unusual effort with my appearance (which included, but was not limited to application of facecream and the brushing of the hair).
Cue:
[Z: You look very pretty. There, see, I do say it. If I was a bigwig I would decide to give your organisation moneys immediately. Also, to sex you.
N: Then I could sue you for sexual harassment, and sell my story to the papers, and get a book deal, and get myself invited to the next Celebrity Big Brother]
And speaking of books, I read one which struck me as marvellous - In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Durant. I'm not a big fan of the historical novel, generally speaking - it's quite a hard genre to carry off in a way that holds my interest without getting bogged down in too much period detail but still using language which strikes me as period-appropriate. Also, as a bonus, to sprinkle the thing with sex. Sarah Durant's novel not only manages to do that, but it also includes the sack of Rome, and a narrator who is a dwarf. Lushly written, it absorbed me from the first and kept me going with its intrigue and suspense and rise and fall of its plucky courtesan.
And before that, here are some of the other things I have been up to:
1) Making an effort to be nicer to my relatives.
2) Going to my course seminars, so that I could expand my braine.
3) Getting fitted for a bra, and discovering that like all the other women in the world I have apparently been wearing the wrong bra size my whole life. There was me thinking I was 36C but the somewhat-stern-looking lady who groped me pronounced it to be 34D and that the bit about the bra straps digging into the flesh of my back was all for the good cause of hoisting my rack as near to my face as possible. I did break down and buy matching underwear she reccomended (I'm really not very good at being assertive when faced by stern-looking people who call me madam) and will wear it at some point I'm sure when I feel like having my bosoms hoisted in their lacy, lacy prisons.
and if you are bored/would like to please me you too ought to take a picture of yourself in your work loo/other handy reflective surface and post it in the comments here.
Today we had various BigWigs coming to visit the office where I work, including various members of the W.H.O. (my favourite was a lady from Bolivia who came in national dress and gave me the opportunity to exercise my pidgin Spanish) so this morning I was making an unusual effort with my appearance (which included, but was not limited to application of facecream and the brushing of the hair).
Cue:
[Z: You look very pretty. There, see, I do say it. If I was a bigwig I would decide to give your organisation moneys immediately. Also, to sex you.
N: Then I could sue you for sexual harassment, and sell my story to the papers, and get a book deal, and get myself invited to the next Celebrity Big Brother]
And speaking of books, I read one which struck me as marvellous - In the Company of the Courtesan by Sarah Durant. I'm not a big fan of the historical novel, generally speaking - it's quite a hard genre to carry off in a way that holds my interest without getting bogged down in too much period detail but still using language which strikes me as period-appropriate. Also, as a bonus, to sprinkle the thing with sex. Sarah Durant's novel not only manages to do that, but it also includes the sack of Rome, and a narrator who is a dwarf. Lushly written, it absorbed me from the first and kept me going with its intrigue and suspense and rise and fall of its plucky courtesan.
And before that, here are some of the other things I have been up to:
1) Making an effort to be nicer to my relatives.
2) Going to my course seminars, so that I could expand my braine.
3) Getting fitted for a bra, and discovering that like all the other women in the world I have apparently been wearing the wrong bra size my whole life. There was me thinking I was 36C but the somewhat-stern-looking lady who groped me pronounced it to be 34D and that the bit about the bra straps digging into the flesh of my back was all for the good cause of hoisting my rack as near to my face as possible. I did break down and buy matching underwear she reccomended (I'm really not very good at being assertive when faced by stern-looking people who call me madam) and will wear it at some point I'm sure when I feel like having my bosoms hoisted in their lacy, lacy prisons.