04.18.06

Walked outside and there was frost on my windshield. Not artistic, wispy ice--there were ice floes circulating with the current. No, the voice in my head said, No. No. No. NO. It's mid-April in Stumptown, the time for frosty windshields is done.

I has spoken.

The day has warmed up nicely. There's sunshine and everything. Dang.

In other news, I just changed out my hood piercing jewelry from a curved barbell to a captured bead ring. There I was, on my bathroom floor, legs akimbo, wrasslin' with the damn bead.

Y'see, the bead is held in place by tension and eensy dimples on either side of the ball. If anything's too off, it makes getting everything together rather, uhm, challenging. And you don't want to be fooling with a lot of hand tools (like wrenches and pliers and handtools and stuff) (oh, Stuff's okay) (you naughty people) around your naughty bits. (Unless you're into that, bien sur.)(And they're vibrate-y, fun toys. That I can get fully behind. Erm. Yeah.)

Three times I ended up chasing that dang ball around my bathroom floor. Stupid fingers started getting all tender and clumsy after messing with the metal for a while. After each, thank goodness, successful recovery, the ball had to be cleaned again.

I did it, by the wrinkled balls of St. Jude.

It's a zombie afternoon. I've promised myself a lovely re-visit with Night of the Living Dead, Dawn of the Dead, and Day of the Dead. All the original versions, of course.

Tomorrow night? Tango. La, la, la.

Be fabulous.

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