"Even if I got rid of all my problems, I'd just go out and get new ones..."

The legs that ate Paris
12:54 p.m. on 2004-06-06

Yup. It's my.... LEGS!

For a close-up on the skirt (minus the legs)

Meanwhile... Not much going on. Completely failed to get into Harry Potter yesterday, due to my decision not to book (I figured that since the cinema was showing it every half hour, we'd be safe. Oh how wrong I was). Still, didn't appreciate being blamed for the fiasco. Perhaps I should have booked, but considering I organise all the other cinema trips it would have been nice for someone else this time to have done the leg work. Especially since I was working all week and Claire and Hayley weren't.

Anyway, small rant aside... we gave up and went back to mine to rent Master and Commander instead. Which, as a gay romance/comedy lovefest, is fantastic. As a serious nautical drama, not so much. Can any one piece of material make any greater demand for slash fic?

Headed over to Louise and Craig's for their very first dinner part-slash-house warming. And believe me when I tell you, their flat is gorgeous. I mean, you imagine first time homes to be scratty terraces full of mis-matched furniture and cast offs, but theirs is like... well, if the Changing Rooms came in there and did it up. Except, Changing Rooms with talent.

Things match. There is serious colour co-ordination going on. Complete with bouquet of roses. It's just lovely, and I couldn't be happier for Louise (and more than a little jealous, too).

I suspect by around midnight, however, Claire and I had decided that the whole thing was getting just a little too serious. Hayley and Craig were having one of those, well, THAT stage of pissed conversations in the back room, discussing their futures and their dreams, and Louise and Phil were in the lounge arguing over religion (well, Louise was preaching, Phil was being forced to rebutt her comments, which is a little rich since Phil is the most religious person I know, yet has never once made me feel judged or demeaned or immoral, and yet there Louise the Atheist was, judging him for his religion. Well, I'm sure that's not how she wanted it to come off, but she was THAT level of drunk. And plus, Louise is always right, even when she's sober).

Claire and I sat down to watch Buffy instead. I perved over Giles, whilst she bemoaned the lack of Oz-ness, and we both lamented the fact that this show was once so wonderful, and died such a crap, drawn out death. Painful.

Today... today I'm off to get two lovely new kittens! Whose names have ranged from "Merry and Pippin," "Muff and Minge," "Fanny and Flap" (neither made the final cut with my mother, though I don't know why...), "Cagney and Lacey," "The Chick and The Duck," my sister's favourite "He-Man and She-Ra"....

We're now stuck on Gunther and Marcelle. Although they may yet change before the hour is up...

Listening to: Morrisey - "Irish Blood, English Heart"

Quote:
"You're going to have to look after your mom, okay? She's just a little tired." - Paul Gross
"It's sweet of you to lie to me, but we both know she's shit-faced." - Eight year old

<< >>