(no subject)
I'm not sure about the specifics but whenever I've seen depictions of rocket ships blasting off, it seems that there is a large initial ship, and that once it's past a certain point, the booster part falls away, launching the smaller part, which floats away into it's orbit.
That is exactly the way I've felt for over a week now. I feel like when I'm lonely it should send a Bat-symbol-esque beam of light into the sky, causing great forces to assemble like the Planeteers or Meatwad, Frylock and Shake. Instead I keep boring people, and getting ignored.
I need much more tending than say, a cactus, or plastic ficus.
A funny thing happened today though. I was at a vintage store looking for a dress for a thing I have to attend, as arm candy. There was a killer 1970s slinky jersey dress that I loved, it was totally a Diane von Furstenberg rip-off. It had large blue roses all over it, a print I've scored in thrift stores before (must have been a thing). A tad ostentatious though. They all fit me perfectly which will lift any girl's spirits, but then I put on this black 1930s dress that fit like a glove, didn't stretch at all, and made me look like a gun moll. Me and the color black were made for each other. Then, I got stuck in it. Fact about me: when I get stuck in clothes, I flip out. I almost have seizures. This thing was really delicate and not going anywhere. It was like my whole body was stuck in Chinese finger cuffs. I ripped two sleeves and the back! It was 55 dollars! The fabric was antique and they should've never trusted me with it. I had no idea what to do, so I just artfully arranged it on the hanger to look as though nothing happened. Then I paid for the dress I really wanted, which was about 40 dollars cheaper.
Does this make me a bad person? Crimes against vintage?
The dress I did get was the color of the sky tonight which is a bit of a trick clue. It could go a few different ways, depending on how I embellish it and myself, but all of them are French. It reminds me of something Carrie wore in the last episode of Sex and the City, which was filmed in Paris. Not bad.
I feel like I should read USA Today. It's full of factoids that I could share as small talk, people seem to like that. These days my head is in the clouds when it isn't in my hands.
Mellow drama,
Cirilia
That is exactly the way I've felt for over a week now. I feel like when I'm lonely it should send a Bat-symbol-esque beam of light into the sky, causing great forces to assemble like the Planeteers or Meatwad, Frylock and Shake. Instead I keep boring people, and getting ignored.
I need much more tending than say, a cactus, or plastic ficus.
A funny thing happened today though. I was at a vintage store looking for a dress for a thing I have to attend, as arm candy. There was a killer 1970s slinky jersey dress that I loved, it was totally a Diane von Furstenberg rip-off. It had large blue roses all over it, a print I've scored in thrift stores before (must have been a thing). A tad ostentatious though. They all fit me perfectly which will lift any girl's spirits, but then I put on this black 1930s dress that fit like a glove, didn't stretch at all, and made me look like a gun moll. Me and the color black were made for each other. Then, I got stuck in it. Fact about me: when I get stuck in clothes, I flip out. I almost have seizures. This thing was really delicate and not going anywhere. It was like my whole body was stuck in Chinese finger cuffs. I ripped two sleeves and the back! It was 55 dollars! The fabric was antique and they should've never trusted me with it. I had no idea what to do, so I just artfully arranged it on the hanger to look as though nothing happened. Then I paid for the dress I really wanted, which was about 40 dollars cheaper.
Does this make me a bad person? Crimes against vintage?
The dress I did get was the color of the sky tonight which is a bit of a trick clue. It could go a few different ways, depending on how I embellish it and myself, but all of them are French. It reminds me of something Carrie wore in the last episode of Sex and the City, which was filmed in Paris. Not bad.
I feel like I should read USA Today. It's full of factoids that I could share as small talk, people seem to like that. These days my head is in the clouds when it isn't in my hands.
Mellow drama,
Cirilia