May all your wings be coated in that Samurai sauce you love and may your vehicular luck change for the better. Glad you’re around, bud.
Automatic Heidi
Just another WordPress weblog
TV
For a good chunk of my life, I spent my time working a lot, lot, lot and missing out on a lot of TV shows and movies. I’ve been making a point these days of making the time to catch the heck up. One of the shows on my list that I hadn’t gotten to see before this year was Six Feet Under. I have been told multiple times that I look like this one actress on the show–Lauren Ambrose. (I don’t think I do that much, really but we both are from New England and we both have the red hair/pale skin combo. A friend explained people saying that as people needing something to say to me. I don’t know if that’s true but it makes some sense, I guess.) The show is all about death and dying and loss and love and life as lived by a Los Angeles family who owns and runs a funeral home. The acting is top-notch and the script never hits a false note. I’m watching it through Netflix.
Girly thang
Ooooh, pretty.....
So….my bathroom is outta control with girly crap in charge of all that is in there. I say “crap” because who really needs a lot of the stuff that we, as chicks, end up slathering ourselves with? It’s all indulgence and glycerin and glitter and it’s all what I once heard Kevin Smith refer to as “armor”. It’s the stuff we put on ourselves so we feel stronger and more capable of dealing with the shit going on around us. “Armor” makes us feel attractive and smarter than we normally do. We are comfortable in our “armor” and it makes it easier to navigate our insecurities and get shit done. This particular bottle of girly crap came into my life via my boyfriend. He knows my weakness for smearing things on my body that make my skin smoooooth (skin=our biggest organ=take care of it!) and he’s vaguely a fan of my doing that. Well, fan enough that he compliments me on my skin’s texture often and he bought this for me which is, in guy world, a screaming endsorement. My armor smells like Jaqua Pink Buttcream Frosting body lotion at present. It’s not too strongly-scented–just enough to make me know it’s there and feel purty and nice. Having a vaguely cupcake-y thing going on around me rawks hard, I think.
Kurt Cobain: About A Son
Kurt Cobain: About A Son Trailer
Watched this on DVD today–amazingly evocative images matched with audio interviews of Kurt. Gorgeous stuff. I miss the Pacific NW a lot and this movie scratched the itch in a big way. Lots of footage of Aberdeen, then Oly, then Seattle. Sad listening to him rave about opiates and how using them removed his animosity towards people, though. I met him a couple of times back in the day and how much he hated people was always right on the surface. He was so scared of everybody, I think, from being the outcast and getting beaten up all the time in high school. Anyway, this one comes highly recommended. Worth the rental, for sure. The soundtrack is great too–some have bitched about there being no Nirvana music on it but the Melvins and the Vaselines are there so what the hell ever, you know?