You're A Mean One, Wang Xi-feng
There was snow in the northern part of the state (apparently, since I don't tool around in northern Indiana), but nothing down here except some half-assed flurries in Sullivan, not even enough to cover the ground or anything. Nonetheless, I took my coat today, which I don't usually do this early in the winter.
I also finally caved and busted out the big guns: body lotion with shea butter. My skin is extremely dry, particularly the back of my left knee at which I have been clawing intermittently, and other people might be able to manage with less severe measures, but I can't. I actually envy these people who can manage with lighter lotions. (When I was a little kid, my skin thought it would be hilarious to develop seborrheic dermatitis and make everything that touched me hurt me, even my pajamas.) As I was telling duokinneas last year, or possibly in 2005, my descendants would be a race of skinless god-polymaths, if I were going to have any descendants.
If I hear that godawful song about the kid who wants to buy his mother a pair of shoes for Christmas so she'll look pretty when she dances with Jesus, or whatever that song is actually about, ONE MORE TIME, I cannot answer for what will happen next. It will probably involve me running amok and killing people.
Other fascinating things that have happened lately: I have purchased Christmas cards that you people can actually display without getting raised eyebrows (most of the ones I had before said things like "Joy to the fucking world!" on the front, or contained sly double entendres, or contained not-particularly-sly single entendres). These have adorable snowmen, because I like snowmen, and plus they were on special at the 'Mart.
Also, I am re-reading all the Balzac I have (I think I mentioned this project before) plus whatever the IU libraries have in English translation, and suddenly have the urge to start up a cracky RP set in early 19th-century Paris. (On the rare occasions when I want to play fandom, I always gravitate to the obscure fandoms or the fandoms where, as far as I know, I am the fandom. But then again I suppose it could be worse.) Never mind that probably nobody else on the Int0rwebz has read Balzac and would be interested in RPing in my cracktastic little world. I totally call Eugène de Rastignac, in case any of them have and are reading this.
Also also, I love (for "love" please understand "mildly dislike") the pervasive feeling that I am very unhappy outside the Church, coupled with the knowledge that I cannot go back (not right now, and possibly not ever for a wide variety of reasons). I also particularly enjoyed how this epiphany hit me while I was speeding towards Bedford. Why oh why does all the WTF come when I am in the car?
Agenda for tonight: get work out, read A Harlot High and Low, go to bed.
I also finally caved and busted out the big guns: body lotion with shea butter. My skin is extremely dry, particularly the back of my left knee at which I have been clawing intermittently, and other people might be able to manage with less severe measures, but I can't. I actually envy these people who can manage with lighter lotions. (When I was a little kid, my skin thought it would be hilarious to develop seborrheic dermatitis and make everything that touched me hurt me, even my pajamas.) As I was telling duokinneas last year, or possibly in 2005, my descendants would be a race of skinless god-polymaths, if I were going to have any descendants.
If I hear that godawful song about the kid who wants to buy his mother a pair of shoes for Christmas so she'll look pretty when she dances with Jesus, or whatever that song is actually about, ONE MORE TIME, I cannot answer for what will happen next. It will probably involve me running amok and killing people.
Other fascinating things that have happened lately: I have purchased Christmas cards that you people can actually display without getting raised eyebrows (most of the ones I had before said things like "Joy to the fucking world!" on the front, or contained sly double entendres, or contained not-particularly-sly single entendres). These have adorable snowmen, because I like snowmen, and plus they were on special at the 'Mart.
Also, I am re-reading all the Balzac I have (I think I mentioned this project before) plus whatever the IU libraries have in English translation, and suddenly have the urge to start up a cracky RP set in early 19th-century Paris. (On the rare occasions when I want to play fandom, I always gravitate to the obscure fandoms or the fandoms where, as far as I know, I am the fandom. But then again I suppose it could be worse.) Never mind that probably nobody else on the Int0rwebz has read Balzac and would be interested in RPing in my cracktastic little world. I totally call Eugène de Rastignac, in case any of them have and are reading this.
Also also, I love (for "love" please understand "mildly dislike") the pervasive feeling that I am very unhappy outside the Church, coupled with the knowledge that I cannot go back (not right now, and possibly not ever for a wide variety of reasons). I also particularly enjoyed how this epiphany hit me while I was speeding towards Bedford. Why oh why does all the WTF come when I am in the car?
Agenda for tonight: get work out, read A Harlot High and Low, go to bed.