Wednesday, February 21, 2007
my new favourite blog: blogger on the cast iron balcony.
with extra sqickiness. and links to blogs about the the creepy purity balls in the us. purity? what, is a woman a litre of milk? she can be spoiled and need to be tipped down the sink? yerk.
wish the supposedly new blogger did autolinks in Safari, then I could post more bloggy goodness. but instead, I'll mention that A looked at a photograph of a pudgy, short-haired young person on a magazine cover yesterday and said "what's her name" and I said "it's a he", based on the name Stevie - once I read the article I realised A was right. a victory for the preliterates.
oh, and the marriage is at an alltime low. it seems even when I ask him to do just one small part of a huge project, he still acts like it's an imposition. and he comes in on my projects and sets rules/makes it harder at the last minute. I'm so fucking glad I don't work for him. no wonder his staff are leaving.
would quite cheerfully have an affair at this point (have I mentioned the NO SEX thing, and the lack of effort on his part to reassure me that I'm still sexy, to maybe put a bit of romance into things?) - but who would want to have wild short-term nooky with a one-breasted chick? I did a quick scan of rsvp.com.au, and was saddened by the number of men specifying, you know, tits. usually big, but defintely tits. yesterday I woke up from a deep nap and was hit again by the realisation that my body has been mutilated. nah, it ain't getting easier.
with extra sqickiness. and links to blogs about the the creepy purity balls in the us. purity? what, is a woman a litre of milk? she can be spoiled and need to be tipped down the sink? yerk.
wish the supposedly new blogger did autolinks in Safari, then I could post more bloggy goodness. but instead, I'll mention that A looked at a photograph of a pudgy, short-haired young person on a magazine cover yesterday and said "what's her name" and I said "it's a he", based on the name Stevie - once I read the article I realised A was right. a victory for the preliterates.
oh, and the marriage is at an alltime low. it seems even when I ask him to do just one small part of a huge project, he still acts like it's an imposition. and he comes in on my projects and sets rules/makes it harder at the last minute. I'm so fucking glad I don't work for him. no wonder his staff are leaving.
would quite cheerfully have an affair at this point (have I mentioned the NO SEX thing, and the lack of effort on his part to reassure me that I'm still sexy, to maybe put a bit of romance into things?) - but who would want to have wild short-term nooky with a one-breasted chick? I did a quick scan of rsvp.com.au, and was saddened by the number of men specifying, you know, tits. usually big, but defintely tits. yesterday I woke up from a deep nap and was hit again by the realisation that my body has been mutilated. nah, it ain't getting easier.
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Fank you very much, Baby. I think I'm going to enjoy reading your blog, too!
As I've just started I don't know whether the baby of the title is in utero, or on the outer, or wherever, but I'll be reading on...
Cast Iron Balcony
As I've just started I don't know whether the baby of the title is in utero, or on the outer, or wherever, but I'll be reading on...
Cast Iron Balcony
Will you just slap that lousy man of yours and get it over with? I swear I'm coming down to put him in his place.
Of course you are still beautiful and feminine and there would be a million men that would love to have you! I wish I was there to give you a big hug!
Greetings from St. Louis where it is 60 degrees in February....it's a miracle.
I hope a strange, tall handsome man gives you the eye the next time you are out with the hubby!
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Of course you are still beautiful and feminine and there would be a million men that would love to have you! I wish I was there to give you a big hug!
Greetings from St. Louis where it is 60 degrees in February....it's a miracle.
I hope a strange, tall handsome man gives you the eye the next time you are out with the hubby!
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