I forgot
what a pain in the ass it is to go out without Andreas.
I saw Tosca at the opera with mother Saturday night, her treat. We had dinner at some Italian place in old Town before, and the opera was fantastic. I've never seen Tosca before. The lady who sang Tosca could act, in addition to the voice, I don't think I've ever seen an opera character seem so human before; and Vissi d'Arte really was amazing.
Afterwards, I went to the Cave to meet Liza, who was kind enough to play protective, jealous and butchy girlfriend for me. I never fully realize how convenient it is to have a boyfriend who is "bigger than Terminator" until he's not around - I was clumsily hit on by several very sleazy tourists, and MytoMatte, which completely put the lid on. Note that Myto is a prefix, short for mytoman, ie compulsive liar, and there's a reason for all this - no, really; the guy boasted to my Linux geek friend martin about having invented Unix. I'm told he has also claimed to be a close friend of Bill Gates, and I do know that he claims to own the Cave - don't know why Leffe puts up with him, though.
This is probably the reason why he oozes up to you when you're djing there, snapping his fingers and telling you, in a very patronising way, a. that you're playing some quite tolerable music, do keep up the good work - or b. remove that crap from the plates and play something good instead.
I've been avoiding closer acquaintance with this person for years. I really hope that he was too drunk to remember me the next time I bump into him at the bar. It's probably too much to ask for him to remember that 999 Saturday nights out of 1000, I'm there with my rather hard to miss and very obvious boyfriend of three years. Blah - I missed him so!
On my way home I slipped in the stairs down to the tube (slippery soles, I was stone cold sober, believe it or not) and I now have a huge bruise in exotic shades of dark, plummy purple on my bottom. There's a smaller one just above the hollow of my knee, too. Very flattering, but it makes a lot of things rather uncomfortable - any kind of shimmy is one of them, I discovered, so I skipped my dance class and wisely stayed in with Lapidus' History of Islamic Societies instead. The exam is tomorrow evening, I'll go and tamper with it some more now.
Wish me luck.
Oh, and I finally found a black suit jacket. It is fifties, or possibly late forties, but it's not bunchy, it's relatively sleek in shape, and it fits me next to perfectly - my too-arched back creates a loose vertical fold just below the waist in the back, but only when I'm standing with my shoulders pushed back, and it fits amazingly well in the front - even in the difficult area between bust and waist. Sleeves are a bit short, either it must be custom-made for someone with extraordinarily short arms, or it's a weird part of the design, but I can live with that. It has a rather nice pattern of small, black oval silk thread embroidery appliqués on the pockets and lapels, and all in all, I'm very happy with it.
I saw Tosca at the opera with mother Saturday night, her treat. We had dinner at some Italian place in old Town before, and the opera was fantastic. I've never seen Tosca before. The lady who sang Tosca could act, in addition to the voice, I don't think I've ever seen an opera character seem so human before; and Vissi d'Arte really was amazing.
Afterwards, I went to the Cave to meet Liza, who was kind enough to play protective, jealous and butchy girlfriend for me. I never fully realize how convenient it is to have a boyfriend who is "bigger than Terminator" until he's not around - I was clumsily hit on by several very sleazy tourists, and MytoMatte, which completely put the lid on. Note that Myto is a prefix, short for mytoman, ie compulsive liar, and there's a reason for all this - no, really; the guy boasted to my Linux geek friend martin about having invented Unix. I'm told he has also claimed to be a close friend of Bill Gates, and I do know that he claims to own the Cave - don't know why Leffe puts up with him, though.
This is probably the reason why he oozes up to you when you're djing there, snapping his fingers and telling you, in a very patronising way, a. that you're playing some quite tolerable music, do keep up the good work - or b. remove that crap from the plates and play something good instead.
I've been avoiding closer acquaintance with this person for years. I really hope that he was too drunk to remember me the next time I bump into him at the bar. It's probably too much to ask for him to remember that 999 Saturday nights out of 1000, I'm there with my rather hard to miss and very obvious boyfriend of three years. Blah - I missed him so!
On my way home I slipped in the stairs down to the tube (slippery soles, I was stone cold sober, believe it or not) and I now have a huge bruise in exotic shades of dark, plummy purple on my bottom. There's a smaller one just above the hollow of my knee, too. Very flattering, but it makes a lot of things rather uncomfortable - any kind of shimmy is one of them, I discovered, so I skipped my dance class and wisely stayed in with Lapidus' History of Islamic Societies instead. The exam is tomorrow evening, I'll go and tamper with it some more now.
Wish me luck.
Oh, and I finally found a black suit jacket. It is fifties, or possibly late forties, but it's not bunchy, it's relatively sleek in shape, and it fits me next to perfectly - my too-arched back creates a loose vertical fold just below the waist in the back, but only when I'm standing with my shoulders pushed back, and it fits amazingly well in the front - even in the difficult area between bust and waist. Sleeves are a bit short, either it must be custom-made for someone with extraordinarily short arms, or it's a weird part of the design, but I can live with that. It has a rather nice pattern of small, black oval silk thread embroidery appliqués on the pockets and lapels, and all in all, I'm very happy with it.