The kittycats are out of their minds this morning, carousing and carrying on. Peep's so funny when she lays on her back and spreads out her front paws. I bought some "pleather" to make some doll crap, and, because I am me, it's on the living room floor. The cats love it! Rolling around in it. They're so crazy.
Yeah, I tried to make a dress. From the mod era, in case you're wondering about my choice of fabrics. Sewing is not my forte and I'm somewhat easily discouraged. I think there are errors in the pattern, too; I got it from Haute Doll magazine.
I wanted to get up early this morning and go for a run before it got too hot, but I couldn't fall asleep last night, and then I couldn't stay asleep. I think I took my Wellbutrin too close to bedtime. Plus, it's not cooling off overnight as well anymore. Time to get that bloody A/C fixed. Anyway, I guess I'll run this evening. I ran yesterday in the later afternoon and though I did fine, it was a tad bit hot. Funny, right now I prefer to run around in my neighborhood rather than go to the campus gym. I seldom feel self-conscious when I work out in a gym but it's different at the campus because of my age. I'd rather take care of some excess jiggles before I go there. Luckily, my metabolism is such, aided by my anti-depressants, that I lose weight very fast. I already feel that my belly fat is reduced just from yesterday. Y' know, I love to swim and I have yet to use the rec center's fabulous indoor pool. Really need to do that.
My English teacher appears to be in her early thirties and she's already a Ph.D. She has the most beautiful voice! She should supplement her income by reading books for CD. I find myself listening to the sound of her voice and not her lecture. That's no good. There's a harsh set of lights that shine on the whiteboard in front of the class, and while she lectures she walks around and back and forth. Remember that Seinfeld episode where one of his dates looked fabulous one minute and scary-ugly the next, depending on the lighting? My teacher's not scary-ugly at all; I'm just saying that the direct light casts harsh shadows on her face and changes her appearance, and then she steps back into the indirect ambient room lighting and her face appears soft and gentle. She has a pretty smile but she seldom flashes it.
I have one of those faces, by the way, largely due to my acne scars. Unflattering light is not kind to me. One of these days I'm getting a procedure to rid myself of those damn scars. It's the only thing about my appearance I rue. I can live with the nose that scoots slightly over to one side or the fact that one of my ears is higher than the other. :-) Prolly the only other physical thing I'd change about myself (but cannot), is the fact that one of my legs is substantially longer than the other and one foot is bigger than the other, by almost a shoe size. I'd make both my legs the length of the longer one and my feet the size of my smaller one.
I guess I'm lucky to be satisfied overall with my physical appearance. In years past I used to torment myself; I look back, and I was totally wasting my time -- I was hot! Coming to terms with my small boobs was one of the nicest things. I love my boobs! I've got stretch marks and cellulite on my butt and upper thighs, but oh well. Anyway, that's enough about me.
I read in a couple of texts recently that the mouth, rather than the eyes, reveal a person's character. Last time I was visiting my folks, my mom and I sat talking in the early morning. It was somewhat dark (it's always dark in that dungeon they call a house) and she was seated before the computer monitor. Its light cast odd shadows on her face, accentuating the downturned corners of her mouth. Through years of unhappiness, the grooves from the corners of her mouth have met her chin and for a moment she took on the appearance of a ventriloquist's dummy. I've resolved to start smiling more.
Last night I was wondering if Mike would care to make love to a heathen or if his choice fuck would have to be Christian. But come on, Mike, what good are heathens for, if not to fuck?
I'm serious, dude. When I got a look at that cock, Oh. My. God. I've gotta have it. I don't care if he condescends toward me, I want to wring every bit of pleasure I can get out of him.
posted by Newpeep, N.D. (neurotic depressive) @ 10:01 AM
1 Comments:
"What good are heathens for..."
HA!!!
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