valentina

Bowie is often in my head. I loved his videos in the '80's. They were some of the coolest things and he was just so damn fun to look at. At my favorite coffeehouse, one of my favorite employees is a 20-year-old guy who loves Bowie. He likes to announce my entrance into the shop by singing a Bowie song with my name in it the moment I set foot in the place. (My real name isn't valentina, obviously!) Everyone turns and stares. Any day he's there, I leave with some Bowie song stuck in my head! My icons are mainly those created by that rapscallion in fuschia tights, aka, minilux. She is a talented little devil!

I haven't been to Vegas, yet. I know I'd probably always talk about looking for Gil Grissom and make everyone's life miserable. Here comes one of my rambling stories: There's a married couple I know and he's your basic outdoorsy huntin' and fishin' guy and she's not. So they do a joint vacation and then they each take a separate vacation -- he goes to Canada to fish and she goes to Vegas to sit by the pool and read, gamble a little, eat shrimp cocktail and generally just chill. She says it's a great place for a lone female to hang out. One year she had to catch a very, very early flight to Vegas and was rushing about like a madwoman in the dark, doing last-minute packing, trying not to wake her husband before it was necessary. While spazzing about in the dark, she ran into their metal spiral staircase, cut her head right on an eyebrow and ended up with a black eye. She said being a woman in Vegas with a black eye was great, because she could run around in dark glasses a lot, and when she'd take them off and someone would see her shiner, she invariably got a sympathetic "oh doll, I'm glad you came to Vegas to get away from the louse" sort of remark.

Congratulations on getting married soon. Well, there's nothing like mixing good stress (the buildup to the big wedding day) with bad stress (parental divorce dredging up old business). It makes me tired to think about it. While I'm sure it's difficult not to think about everything that's going on with your mother leaving your father, first and foremost, focus upon enjoying yourself. That sounds incredibly trite, but it's true. Sometimes when you grow up with a really narcissitic parent, you tend to overcompensate in the opposite direction and spend too much energy worrying about and caring for others. This comes from someone who knows what it's like to have a very self-centered parent!!! And the title of your entry has had David Bowie music playing in my head all day long!

Last night another saying that I've only heard said by The Prophet Raoul -- if you don't know who I'm talking about, read my entry from a couple days ago -- came out of my mouth. Whenever Raoul was discussing something or someone that he found to be particularly unsightly, he liked to say: "If _______ was a dog, I'd shave its ass and make it walk backwards." What a visual.

I grew up in a sports-obsessed family. I didn't know any better for a long time, and I used to watch it out of sheer habit, but now I can't watch sit still for more than 5 or 10 minutes of a football, basketball or baseball game. It's soooooo tiresome. I think the rest of my family wants to do DNA testing on me, because they consider it proof that I am not biologically related to them, because I won't watch that stuff. Now, I've actually watched bits of the Miami Heat games recently (by "bits," I mean I'll check the score every now and then while I'm watching something else) because when Pat Riley (the coach of the Heat) was younger, he was pretty hot, but now he's showing some miles. I'd always, always, always opt for CSI reruns! The good news is that you do the computer to yourself during the games!!!

Billie Holiday simply rocks my world. I was listening to her a bit this morning. Her music simply hits you in the heart. Even when she's singing a happy song or a love song, there's always a little pathos in her voice and I love it. Billie isn't my only favorite jazz singer, I also adore Ella Fitzgerald, and if you asked me to pick my favorite version of "The Way You Look Tonight" it would be Ella's, and not Billie's or Tony Bennet's. But I digress. Billie loved dogs, and she had a Boxer dog named Mister that she loved like crazy. Since I have a Boxer named Mugzy (or Mister Mug, as I like to call him), I know why she was so devoted to him. A lot of people enjoy Billie because it's cool to say you like her or because she was an such an iconic beauty in her time. Actually, she had a tiny little voice that wasn't that pretty, especially compared to Ella or Sarah Vaughn or other great female jazz singers of her time. However, her style was incomparable. And Billie also made some great comments about life in the course of her time here on earth, so here are a few: “Don't threaten me with love, baby. Let's just go walking in the rain." "If you copy, it means you're working without any real feeling." "You can be up to your boobies in white satin, with gardenias in your hair and no sugar cane for miles, but you can still be working on a plantation." "You've got to have something to eat and a little love in your life before you can hold still for any damn body's sermon on how to behave." I love that last quote. Amen, sister!

Yup, Ella has a voice like butter. I actually have more Ella CDs than Billie CDs. I probably have 7 or 8 Ella recordings! Greta Garbo the Boxer? Did she vant to be alone? (grooooaaaaan...)

Macha, you tease! Your designs are always wonderful, but the Hungry Ghost Moon is one I was especially anticipating, even prior to the recent LJ debacle. But I'm sure the creative fire was especially bright this time! And in the meantime, I'll have a glass of lemonade!

My diva friend sookster has already mentioned Underpants, but I think the combo of saffron and vanilla and sandalwood is brilliant. I also love Khujurajo, because the sandalwood actually permits me to wear the florals that are included in that blend. It's just a gorgeous, exotic, incensey scent.

Poor puddy tats! I too feel so bad for animals when they're so traumatized and confused. I'm sure in a week from now, they will have declared the new home to be their own little fiefdom and all will be right with the world again.

If one wears BPAL scents, people who know you can't go into a department store, go to the fragrance counter, pick up the tester bottle of the fragrance you wear, spritz it on a card and walk around sniffing it, thinking about how it smells like you. There is a certain allure to this, assuming it's the right sort of person doing the sniffing. But let us not weep, for look at it this way -- because they can't go to the department store to sniff your fragrance, they have to come find you. This thought crossed my mind because a guy I work with was patiently trodding around the mall with his wife over the weekend when she decided to sniff all the fragrances at the perfume counter. It gave him a headache and made him vaguely dizzy. He said he realized that they all smelled alike after a while, but nothing smelled anything like the perfumes that I wear. I told him that his reaction was akin to people buying produce at a Farmer's Market and saying: "Wow, this tastes so much better!" Well yeah, the more natural the product, the more your senses are going to like it. I have to wonder if the overconsumption of synthetic smells, tastes and textures starts to blunt the senses. And damn it, I am all about our senses! If we forget how to pay attention to them, we start to disassociate from our bodies and then what kind of fun are we having? Not as much. I used to teach yoga every now and then, and the hardest thing for me was to try to get through to the people who are so disassociated from their physical selves. Sometimes the sense of dropping into their physical senses would cause them to feel anxious, nervous, frightened or terribly vulnerable. They either went into the feeling and worked with it, or they'd just shut down and stop coming to class. So I think everyone who wears BPAL does a favor to society because we, at least for a few moments, make people drop back into their sense of smell when they get a whiff of something real. The last statement is a great rationalization to more more oils from the Lab. Feel free to use it to pad your next order. Consider it your humanitarian work: "I must re-teach people how to smell." It's a tough job, but we're up to it.

(wink back at ya!) Like I said yesterday, I love that retro-looking neon. I would love to have a piece of it that still worked and hang it on the living room wall and plug it in at night. It would just give the neighbors something else to talk about! I'm glad you and the DH got a kick out of that element of Las Vegas. That city has to be one of the neon capitals of the world!!! And talking about people who change their avatars daily, if I don't have any other reason to get up and get out of bed, I can always remember I want to see what avatar minilux has up for that day.... the retro graphic she found of a pinup girl seductively draped on top of a box of Velveeta has to be one of my all-time favorites!

There's a guy I know here at work who tends to use what I consider rather quaint and old-fashioned terms to express outrage, like "What in the Sam Hill?" and "Son of a buck!" I never hear anyone else use those terms, unless I would happened to head down to a senior center. Apparently "Sam Hill" somehow got started as a way to avoid saying "hell," but whenever I hear that term, I always picture the cartoon character Yosemite Sam. I also used to know a guy from work who would say: "Well cheese and crackers!" when he was trying to not swear, which was on very rare occasions. I have never heard anyone else use that term in my life. I always found it really hilarious, because it was so odd and because this guy would normally use f**k like most people say "uh." Then there was the guy who was seemingly the basis for Ignatius J. Reilly in the book "A Confederacy of Dunces." Seriously, he was a big, fat, extremely high-IQ person who lived in his own little la-la land most of the time. He made his living as a software tech support specialist. He used to go sit outside the building that he worked in and chain-smoke and hold court of the topic of the day. The bench that he sat on was made of some sort of industrial-strength recycled plastic and he warped the bench because he was probably 6'4" and around 400 pounds. His name was Jerry, but somehow I came to call him The Prophet Raoul, a term that amused him greatly. Two of his favorite terms were: "Well Christ on a bicycle!" and "I don't give a flying f**k at a rolling donut." The last comment always produced visions of this gargantuan man throwing himself at a huge rolling donut, trying to leap through the hole the way dogs jump through hoops. Anyway, The Prophet Raoul shuffled off this mortal coil (another one of his favorite sayings, courtesy of Will Shakespeare) a few years ago. Anyone who has read "A Confederacy of Dunces" would probably agree that Ignatius was not a role model for health and long life. The Prophet was a huge football fan and he died laying around in bed while watching the Super Bowl on the day of the Janet Jackson wardrobe malfunction. It is my hope that he said to himself: "I've just seen a tit during Super Bowl halftime, I can die a happy man," and did just that.

When I was a little kid, I thought "dagnabbit" was "dang rabbit." "Rassafracka" is especially good when you say: "Rassafracka, fracka, fracka, fracka..." Once a friend's daughter, when she was about 10 or so, had heard him frequently say that he had to "pee like a racehorse," and she thought the term could be applied to any sort of an animal with a specialized skill. So one day she annouced to us: "I have to pee like a hunting dog."

One thing that I forgot to add about The Prophet Raoul is the experience of watching him get in and out of cars. Once a friend of mine saw him emerge from a compact car and looked like a dinosaur hatching from its egg. Another time this same friend offered to give Raoul a ride (because he was chronically without a car and always sponged rides off of people) in his Triumph Spitfire convertible. Two other friends and I went out and hid around a corner to watch him get in the Spitfire, which fortunately had the top down. You could almost hear the shocks groan, and because he was a massive person, he did not properly fit down into the seat and his head was up above the windshield. The Spitfire pulled away veerrryyy slowly. I should just write a book about The Prophet Raoul. It wouldn't be as depressing as "Confederacy, which is most truly a love-it-or-hate-it book.

This morning I set the alarm for 7:45 (way, way early for me on a Sunday) and went out to my back yard and bailed out all the old water in my two small garden ponds. They're pre-shaped plastic liners and a once-a-year emptying and refilling is a nice idea. So I was bailing out all the stinky old water and sludge and slime and it made me thing of the LJ wank. Generally, I consider that sort of behavior to be stinky and slimy. While we relish our freedom of speech, the institutions that help give us freedom of speech (unless the current administration gets its way), like legislative bodies and courts, have very structured rules of debate. The procedures are there for a reason -- if it's a free-for-all, discussions can drop to the lowest common denominator and nothing constructive occurs. I consider the anonymous wank to be a free-for-all and the resulting discussion is generally worthless. While there may be nuggets of a legitimate discussion here and there, the presentation does not lend itself to anything but discord. And that's all I'm going to say about this topic, because I think the more we just ignore the behavior and refuse to give the wankers the attention that they want, the sooner they will pick up their toys and move to another playground or simply go home and pout. But damn it, I do adore that asshattery word. And I did know who Ron Jeremy was, pervy old bag that I am! Oh yeah, for those of you who are old enough, do you remember an INXS song where he's reciting words, like appreciate, dedicate, ect? They should have had satiate in that song!

I'd hazard a guess that the fish died after being reintroduced because the former owner used soap or some sort of cleaning product in the pond, if it has a plastic liner. The buckets I used to bail water have never had soap in them, and if I use a sponge with a scrubby side to clean the liner, it's a new one that's never seen soap. So, bailing the water out might be a good idea, then swabbing it down with soap-free paper towels or sponges or even a mop. Then rise it down with water from a hose, just enough to get the grunge off the sides, then bail out that water and refill the pond. That should remove any lingering soap residue. Garden ponds are a lot of work in that regard, if you want to keep them habitable for fishies. The fountain is really good for water circulation and that probably has helped clear the water, since it was no doubt really stagnant. There's also various kinds of floating water plants/flowers that help water quality, look nice and also provide something different for the fish to nibble on. There's also these little bales of straw that are sold in stores with water garden supplies that are supposed to help deter algae growth. They aren't exactly attractive and I think they're best used on larger ponds, where you can hide it. Here's one of my favorite websites for water gardening stuff and general tips: http://www.lilypons.com/ Really, once you get it started, it doesn't need that much work -- just futzing around with the fountain to make sure it's still working properly, feeding the fishies and maybe bailing it out once a year. My neighbors consider the sight of me bailing out the pond to be a sign that summer is on its way. Yeah, after reading this , you're probably telling the Mister, "let's rip that bitch out and fill it it in!!!"

You make excellent points about creating drama. My yoga teacher and I often discuss this sort of thing, and since she's also a bit of a science geek, she views drama as a way to keep the nervous system in such constant agitation that it's impossible to calm down. And the reason a lot of people don't want to calm down is that the might stop and think about whatever is going on inside their heads that's really bothering them. Or they're adrenaline junkies and they get off on the rush of drama. Or they create drama so everyone's focus will stay on them, because they need constant attention. Hmm... and if I'm my avatar (which changes every now and then), I'm either a dork who worships Wonder Woman, or who wishes she looked like Louise Brooks or I'm a Bob Schneider groupie. And not very many people know who Bob is, and I've had people ask me if that's my husband. This is better than the person who told Andrabell that she thought the Ron Jeremy avatar was a photo of her husband! LOL! BTW, I love that rather retro-looking neon stuff. 'Tis cool.

OK, let's declare a moratorium on guilt! Don't feel guilty for having the disposable income to spend on BPAL. Are you kidding? I would do the very same thing if I could! The only reason I wouldn't is because my body chemistry is a real pisser and I can't wear a lot of scents without giving myself or those around me a headache. You're having fun and you support the Lab. It's good to see that you went lollygagging over to my blog! Never apologize because you want to feel satiated!

I think "satiate" is a great word to say out loud repeatedly. It's difficult to say it out loud a number of times without putting a bit of an inflection into it, but that's part of the fun. Let's head off to the dictionary: Pronunciation: [v]'seyshee`eyt, 'seyshi`eyt Etymology: satiate (v.) c.1440 (implied in pp. adj. satiate), from L. satiatus, pp. of satiare "fill full, satisfy," from satis "enough," from PIE base *sa- "to satisfy" Satiate is the root of "insatiable" and while I also love that word, it takes on a harder edge when said out loud. However, if Beth ever made a LE called "Insatiable," it would rank right up there (at least in my own private universe) with Smut and Monster in the Panties. I would buy it even it had jasmine and gardenia and rose and leather and everything that amps up and doesn't smell good on me. I'd decant it into imps and keep the bottle. My tendency to talk about words that I like to say out loud, repeatedly, comes from a character in a short story called "The Smoker" by David Schickler. That story ran in the new fiction edition of The New Yorker in 2000, and as legend has it, Schickler had a book deal by noon on the day the story was published. You can find the story as a chapter in his book "Kissing in Manhattan," but I prefer to read the story as it stands on its own. It's a funny, mysterious little fantasy about a young man who's an English teacher at an all-girls private school in Manhattan and his most extraordinary student. The student, whose name is Nicole, likes to point out that certain words are nice to say out loud, repeatedly. I think "rinse" is one of them. "Trauma" is another. But I like satiate the best.

Oh no, I wasn't apologizing. I actually deleted a chunk out of that post, because sometimes I play amateur psychologist and then decide I've taken it too far. However, my deleted speculation was that the people who said they think Beth is hot and seemingly have schoolgirl crushes on her, are the same ones who declare everyone else to be suckups. It's just immature and goofy. IMHO, creative people (and that includes you, Macha, so don't get embarassed!) never get enough thanks or money in today's society. I know too many artists and musicians and writers who have day jobs and create by night, and too many small business owners who work insane hours to keep their dreams afloat. Saying thank you and supporting such efforts is the very least that I can do.

darkity, you could do the "Rocky" theme, only instead of "da-da-DA, da-da-DA..." you could go "Smut-Smut-SMUT, Smut-Smut-SMUT!" I too enjoy dawndie's "spreading the love" notion. Plus she has that "gobsmacked by Smut" happy grin on her face today!

I just commented on filigree shadow's blog, but I'll repeat and expand a bit here... I said that while I know some mods better than others, everyone I've encountered has been kind and generous -- generous with your time, your creativity, your patience. I think a lot of the complaining about the mods is nothing more than sniping at people who are perceived as authority figures, or as having more of an "in" with Beth. I've probably spent more time on this forum than any other forum or email list simply because it is so well moderated. For god's sake, I was once on a list for Airedale Terrier owners that was unmoderated, and I have never seen such off-topic, insane vitriol put into writing. I honestly don't know how you guys keep such a large group of individualistic and sometimes iconoclastic people running so peaceably. Just my two cent's worth. BTW, I do especially love that Lotus Moon t-shirt design. Have a good weekend.

Like indarkmoon, I was "huh?" about this LJ thread. Of course, I had to go gawk at the trainwreck. And there is some substance to the complaints about people who buy things up to simply resell them at high prices. However, such is the way of capitalism, and if the buyers are there, the sellers will continue to do their thing. The rest of it seemed to be largely personality-based, and several of the people who were named as primary irritants are some of my favorite people on the forum... so go figure! And I suppose I could be found guilty of being a suckup to Beth, but I simply admire her great creativity. There is no reason to not praise someone who makes unique products that I enjoy. And as for the mods, I know some better than others, but everyone I've encountered has been very kind and generous. But, if the LJ wank allows people to blow off steam, that's fine. You know, I may author my own wank about myself and post it as a blog entry, just for the jollies of it. It might be sort of fun!

I think if it's a word you enjoy, it's going to sound good when you say it, because you relish it. indarkmoon probably makes "nefarious" and all the other "-ious" words sound deliciously diabolical. And because I love a good juxtaposition, I picture darkity saying: "You know, I love all that onomatopoeia stuff, and whoda ever thunk it?" I too dislike listening to other people read their own writing. It reminds me of a Matt Groening "Life In Hell" cartoon, where Akbar and Jeff were advertising their coffee house. The open mic poetry night was billed as an "atonal hootenanny." I believe hootenanny is a good example of onomatopoeia?