My last couple of posts have been kind of wordy, so I think we all deserve a little break.
The following visual feast is an assortment of crap that kicks around my flat making me *sigh*smile*laughobnoxiously*
My Oscar – a gift from my high school boyfriend. I suspect it was his subtle way of telling me I was a drama queen. Whatever.
Your eyes do not deceive you. This little gem was discovered while rummaging around a junk store – it may in fact be the only one of its kind. It was a find of a lifetime, celebrated with much hooting and hollering. It may even possess magical properties.
Yes, it’s the Book On Tape of the brilliant bestselling book on astrophysics written by The One and Only Stephen W. Hawking (my personal hero) as read aloud by…Michael Jackson. Yes, indeedy. Michael Jackson. (Because Dr. Hawking is so awesome, I’m going to give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that this was approved by him at a time when MJ was still cool. And, you know…black. And, you know, …possessed a nose.)
To tell the truth, I haven’t actually had the nerve to listen to it yet. I’m not sure there is enough alcohol on the planet to make that possible. Well, and I’m sort of afraid the gates of hell may open if I ever do. So I may just put it in a nice shadowbox.
My leopard-skin pillbox hat. (Chill out, it’s faux leopard-skin. I’m vegan, for cripes’ sake.)
But, yeah. Bob Dylan actually wrote the song about me, you know, not Edie Sedgewick. Always stealing my thunder, that stupid wench.
(Oh, and the mask and Satanic-looking tiara in the background are not just props left over from a debaucherous night on the town. I actually wear them both on a very regular basis. I like to look pretty.)
BIG. ASS. SHELLS. Found here on the bee-yoo-tee-full South Shore.
Lava lamp night light. Every home should have one.
Understand Your Mother breath spray. Priceless. A gift from (who else) my mother.
It doesn’t work for shit, by the way.
Gum, a gift from my, well, I was gonna say ‘BFF’ but Paris Hilton has ruined that term for me. But you get the idea.
“Don’t Have Ugly Children Beauty Gum” and “Be Gone Evil Twin Gum.”
My friend was really hoping that second one would work. It, like the “Understand Your Mother” breath spray, was disappointingly ineffective.
My books. This is only a very small portion of my current library. A very, very small portion. I’m not posting pics of the rest because I don’t want to overwhelm you. Or scare you.
I’m seeking a support group. (But I don’t expect it will work, either.)
My flavoured toothpaste collection. Because you just never know if it’s gonna be a ‘watermelon’ kind of day or a ‘citrus blast’ kind of day…or maybe a snuggle-into-bed-tasting-like-‘vanilla’ kind of night.
Go ahead and laugh. You’re just jealous.
And finally, something that is one of my favourite things (today it is, anyway – sometimes it is future cat stew) :
The Glorious, the Dignified, the Incomparable…*
PYEWACKETT THE MAGNIFICENT (Or…’RIDICULOUS.’ I get those words mixed up sometimes.)
*This is supposed to be a cat play tunnel, by the way. Wacky is such a fat-ass (it’s hard to tell from the pic, but the tunnel is HUGE) that it’s sort of more like his very own leopard-skin pillbox hat. Kinda stylin’, really.
Have a nice day.