BH: Oh noes clothing is lost

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It's almost Halloweeeeeeeen. I am ready for the partying and the drinking and the costuming good times <3

(And living with an American now means we can get into the spirit of a holiday we don't really celebrate even more!)
JWW: To liberate night from the day

ART TIME NOW!

On my most recent trip to Australia (as in, just a few weeks ago) I visited one of dad's friends, the glorious Marion (who I found has songs on YouTube from the 60's and one of them even has a sheep in it. That's important.) Anyway, the point was that she introduced me to Erté who I have somehow gone 27 years of my life without knowing about but his drawings are so amazing and glorious. I basically fell head over heels. He was a Russian-born French art deco artist who did fashion design, costume and set designs for movies/theater/opera, interior decorating, graphic design, jewelery and more than 200 hundred covers for Harper's Bazaar and Vogue. And if I'd known how god damn difficult his stuff was to find in good online galleries I would have scanned a hell of a lot more pages from the books I was reading! (I may have to be buying this book)

It's all movement and curves and epic drapery (and often Hellenic and Egyptian themes and how am I supposed to resist those?)

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Buffy: Bottom line

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Can't sleeeeeeeeep.

I've been back from Australia week now and it's nice to be back in my own bed and my own space. As nice as it is to be in Nimbin, it's always good to be home. I was going to post some pictures of huntsmans in this post, but I can't be bothered finding the camera. So you'll have to just imagine it, okay? Okay.

I need to be asleep right now because it's almost 5 in the morning and tomorrow I'm not only going to watch roller derby (hell yeah!) but then there's a party after that. How will I keep up without sleep! I'm thinking it might be shower time right about now instead.

As yet no big earthquakes, just a few little shakes. Only one that's made me clutch the table with concern. Score!
Eva: Maturity is over-rated

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Yesterday - in the horrible heat - I went to the Nimbin Show and got swallowed up by all the freaking quaintness within it. They had produce judging, you guys. People brought in their fruit and got to be awarded the ribbons of Best Lemons or Best Eggs. It was like being in the 1950s! They even had Best Scones and Best Chocolate Cake, in which there was a Drama because someone had tried to enter a Chocolate Mud Cake and was thus disqualified. Oh my god, I cannot even tell you how sweet and country town I found all this. There was crocheted blankets being judged!

Today I'm home alone, with both dad and Gwen having gone out to do a wedding at Byron Bay (dad drives the fancy cars and Gwen does the celebrant stuff). But it was too got for me to go to Byron and being here is less melty. I was going to go see Jane Eyre at the movies (Fassbender!) but I've got a shitty copy of it somewhere on a computer anyway.

I went to a gallery opening the other night which was really cool - wine and cheese and artists oh my! - but it became less cool as I got hotter and hotter inside the gallery and people walking past things made them shake and made me begin to panic a little bit. Logically I know that there's no earthquakes here. Logically I know this. But it didn't stop be clinging to dad's side and staring up at what parts of the roof I thought would fall down first.

Uncool, tectonic plates.

I've been watching the episodes of Camelot I have with me here. Well, sort of watching. Okay, I've been fast forwarding whenever Morgana isn't on screen. I predicted this would be the outcome of this show. Eva, I love you so bad and with my body parts. Morgana and Merlin are the only characters of any interest and they need to get to the nasty hate-sex right away please.
-- RAAAWR!

SUCH FUN!

BEHOLD! The dinosaur that dad got and arrived as a shitty flat-packed build it yourself item which we thought was going to be shit.

It isn't shit. It is AWESOME.



(Dad and Gwen watch Miranda. This makes me happy since they walk around saying "such fun!" and this is, what I call, a dinosaur.)
Buffy: Hello my life how I&#39;ve missed you

'YOU ARE NOW PASSING ANOTHER FOX'

This is what it said on the back of the truck that we did, indeed, pass on the drive back from the airport. It knows I'm foxy, that's why.

Hello darling people, this is your impotant imperious leader recording her captain's log from Nimbin, Australia, as she reclines in the sunshine far from tectonic plates and their naughty little games. (I can't even begin to tell you how amazing it feels to be without earthquakes. I've been here a whole week and there has been NOT ONE. This is incredible to me and so good for my nerves which tend to lean towards being frayed even without the city tumbling down around me every five minutes. But still I keep eyeing up unsecured items dubiously. They are not to be trusted.)

Alison was here for the first week, but today we dropped her off at the airport and she'll never ever come back ever again. In fact, she'll currently be in Sydney (I think) or maybe almost on the flight to New Zealand.

I have been existing on a diet of fresh fruit, Caesar salad, and alcohol, and it's pretty much the best thing ever actually. My liver gets such a workout here although last night I decided to slow down a bit. I cannot keep up with dad and Gwennie. They have titanium well-practised livers! Mine is merely human! It wants to live!

The night before last they had a Viking feast, which turned out to be completely awesome. Everyone dressed up and there was legs of lamb and whole big fishes and a ridiculously long feast table with a huge roaring fire at the end. GLORIOUS. Then near the end of the night Alison and I managed to get people playing Tablero which is always so much fun, and then dad thought we were being pussies with it so we started playing with whiskey and tequila instead of the lighter stuff. HELLS YEAH. Tablero should always be played with hard liquor and anyone who says differently might be a medical professional or concerned for your physical wellbeing. What would they know.

The booze we played with was home made, as dad's now got a friend with a still who provides four litres of it a week and then they flavour it into pretend things. The tequila is a bit off but might just need some time. The fake whiskeys are pretty good though. But our attempt at mango liquor needs to be learned from by future generations to keep them from making such a terrible mistake. I think only of the children here.

(It is possible, just maybe, that under the influence of viking boozing it up I texted some people with promises of my anatomy. Not that I would ever do such a thing. I am a lady. But to the people who did get those texts: How you doin'?)

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Tomorrow we will... do something that most likely involves alcohol as that is now the pattern forms here. I like this pattern. I will read my book (Currently flicking between Catherine Valente's Habitation of the Blessed and Geoffrey Miller's The Mating Mind, both of which are fabulous because Valente is a goddess and books about evolutionary psychology gives me warm fuzzies.) Or I will do something productive and adult. I will roleplay.
FF: Counting the days that pass me by

Maybe I should, like, moisturise or some girl crap like that.

I always thought that when I first got wrinkles they would be smile lines and that I'd be happy with that because how can any sign that you've been smiling be a bad thing? I automatically like and trust people strangers with wrinkles from smiling a little bit more than other people, which isn't actually the best idea because what if they've been smiling because they really enjoy all that murdering they do? Anyway, the point is that smile lines would be a sign that I'd been having more joy that I probably deserved and were thus a good sign.

But it's bloody frowning, brow furrowing wrinkles instead. That's not a sign of too much happiness! That's a sign of depression and moodiness! But... but... Joy! Happiness! SMILE LINES, DAMMIT.

Writing this I'm frowning at the screen so that's really only making matters worse. I think it's because my natural default expression is frowny brow-furrowy girl until someone looks at me. My natural expression has thwarted all of my life plans!
-- You know the games I play

48 hour party - and yet I've never done the whole 48. Probably because I'm sane.

Last night was the Friday of the forty-eight and I: drank ridiculously bourbon-spiked icebreaker, lost my voice, flogged a group of men, played runner for dramatic situations, and got kicked really hard in the shins.

Interesting night. Good night though, the parts that we're made of Fuck This All I Hate You. I still have very little in the way of, you know, a voice but other than that I feel perfectly fine. I just had no idea how much I talk and sing under my breath every freaking second of the day, because not doing it is making me feel like a mental case.

Echo went outside to enjoy the gorgeous day of sunshine and got herself stung in the throat by a bee, the loser. She had to go to the vet. Man, my throat has problems too but I didn't get to go to the vet, did I?

Anyway, soon the Saturday night festivities will begin properly and Alison and I shall go join them. Hopefully this voice of mine chooses to stay at least a little and I can pretend that I'm all sexy and husky, instead of being mute. I suck at mute.
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