Last week I skinned both knees, acquired multiple cuts, scratches, bruises, and burns -- with a remarkably large one on my belly -- from Dog Knows Where, and went through three pairs of stockings ( Read more... )

I want to find the natural sensuality and femininity of my dreams and, to do that, I must wear this fragrance which translates roughly to "dreams" yet bears the connotation of "daydream" or "reverie."Weirdly yet typically sexist personifications aside, NEW GOUTAL, PEOPLE! And, boyo, it sounds dreamy ( Read more... )

I'm so fucking tired of gossip in the workplace that I'm not going to write about it here, now ( Read more... )

So, late in the summer, I was dragged out to Woodinville so I could watch, listen, and shiver while Tori Amos sang and appeared increasingly bored with her repetoir. The amphitheater at Chateau Ste. Michelle is a breathtaking venue on clear days. This was not a clear day ( Read more... )

Endorphins aside, I'm ready to be not sick now. Now, I say! Last night I made the mistake of having my favorite Red Line sandwich -- The Texan: tender roast beef, caramelized red onions, horseradish, cheddar, 'n chipotle au jus -- for dinner. You see, I can't taste things properly now and The Texan tasted like salted gravel. I almost wept ( Read more... )

There are strange, swollen spots about my neck and throat and I'm not having the easiest time swallowing. I should be a good girl and just give in to the sickness that's been whispering in the shadows all week. All week, I paid it no mind because I'm a busy girl who has work to do, projects to leave undone, and friendships to either reestablish ( Read more... )

Wait, smitten, hang on for a second and look at this:


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I had a really striking and disturbing dream last night. If this dream were a film or a play, it'd be criticized, I'm sure, as a "hamfisted feminist allegory."

So, you see, I had to transcribe it immediately.

There are a lot of disturbing elements contained within, though, so be mindful of that.

( The Dream. )

Since I work in for a pretty well-established local chocolatier, for once in my recent days-of-livin', I'm actually looking forward to Valentine's Day. I spent most of last week boning up for Tuesday and, unless lightning strikes either the cakemaster or the factory before then, our cake case will be pristine and filled to the metaphorical brim ( Read more... )

Since the white people seem to think that, because I'm asian, I'm some kinda expert when it comes to asian cuisines, I'll tell you this much: Sushi is best served cold, fresh, and, ideally, in a serving bowl carved out of Arthur Golden's still-twitching severed head.


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