When I said, "I don't really see skin color," you should probably know that when you immediately tuned out (as you should have), you missed the part where I said, "...once you've proven you're an asshole. It actually takes a little longer for P's o C to prove they are assholes, because I worked in retail for way too long and tend not to give my pink brethren the benefit of the doubt."

Daaaaaarn yooooou, conventional western morality!

I have this friend, and we've always had this weird, pseudo-crushy dynamic. In my head, I call him, "my mermaid," because we have great neck-up chemistry, but our bodies from the waist down... just... don't... work... together. (I'm pretty sure that we should co-author something, but how do you bring that shit up? "You and I, our brains should totally do it in the road and make gorgeous little brainbabies, like Weis and Hickman only with some ideas about how people actually talk." Or a podcast. Or we should direct high-concept porn shoots, not picky.)

And I've cooled down on the flirty side of things, not because I'm not into guys anymore, but because he has a girlfriend, and it looks like they are a forever home together, and I haven't met her yet. (Yet. I'm toying with traveling out to his city, as one of my clients was making vague noises about hiring me away to the PNW. Peoplejust kind of tend to blurt out, "Oh, my God, Laura, you NEED to go live there. They are your type of weirdos! And who knows, you might get laid! Like, for real! Paper or plastic?")

But it's intensely frustrating, because inspired by A Certain Awesome Person on my F-list, I'm going to update my lingerie wardrobe (at least, the base stuff) via the figleaves website, and I WANT HIM TO HELP ME SHOP LIKE SO BAD. He has the BEST eye. I'm pretty certain his gal would have no problems with it if she'd met me, but without that dimension to the dynamic... gnrf. I would not trust me as far as I could throw me, if I didn't know deep in my gut that he and I ain't appearing on the conjugation of "to be," past, present, future or pluperfect subjunctive. The phrase "flirty little text-y texts" would be used (internally). I would sing, "Well, you say Nobody's after you--- fact is, what you say is true... does she think she's being clever (Clever! Ooo-hooo!)" while doing dishes and I thought no-one was listening. (Huh. Sylvia was apparently dating Polyphemus. ANd I am dating myself.)

Anyway, I'm thinking:

But I'm leaning towards one of these two:

I really, really like the pink-and-black (SO Rita Hayworth!), but I already have the knickers and the wrapper to go with the peachy-coral. Look, don't judge, there's nothing inherently wrong with matching your lingerie even if you are never going to have an audience.

I mean, I guess the male gaze doesn't matter. But boy, he was so good at helping me figure out what I want.

Everyone should have a mermaid.

Calling it

In season one, we learn that Michael's vision of the Good Place does not quite match his presentation of his vision of the Good Place.

Without knowing whether season two has been released (it's probably finished and I look like a jackass for posting my fan theory), I wonder if the punchline of season two (or later) is that Michael has also been deceived about the Good Place and his place in the scheme of things.

Thought I'd mention

Things that I find unusually pleasing, even after they are well-worn in my mind, part 531 x 10^36 of a series:

-The characterization of Maria Reynolds in Hamilton on the original Broadway cast album recording. It's going to be hard to top that with a different directorial/ acting take (not sure from whence the decision springs; in the book about the show, the whole thing seems pretty symbiotic). But the panning-out transition from her first lines as film-noir con-woman/ seductress to the reveal of her as a terrified hot mess doing whatever it takes to get by, that's good story-telling, to me. This works especially well for me in consonance with this character trait as Hamilton's tragic flaw and in contrast to what we know of the other character that actor plays, Peggy Schuyler, who was a stone-cold BAMF who died young. Well-done.

Reset button

So, I'm off night shifts (YAY I AM OFF NIGHT SHIFTS), but my body is stubbornly refusing to get off of day sleeping. No massive attack or weird nap/ stay awake schedule has worked (nor getting weird with meds or fasting/ not fasting. Yesterday, had weird troubles getting/ staying to sleep (I tried to go to sleep a little before 7), and slept rocklike at least between 1 and 5 p.m.

Yoday, my plan is to get into bed at 8 a.m., read something nice, and go head down, eyes closed between 8:30 and 9. I have set my alarm for 4:53. Tomorrow, I will set it for 4:46. I have heard it's reasonable to ask your body to adjust by an hour a week...


So if I get in to the new place (IhopeIhopeIhopeIhope--- something in my heart said, "Yes, this is my place exactly and I will be happy here, while I'm here," something I have not felt in a very long time), I am juuuuuuust squeaky enough that I shall have to take a loan out for the new deposit and moving expense. My best bet is my credit union, USAA. I only need $600 max (I shan't be getting my deposit back), but if do, I'm very tempted to cover my highest-interest debt, as well, as USAA's minimum increment is $1500. Payment on $1500 would be about $88/ month, payment on $1500 + what I owe would be only a few dollars more, plus I wouldn't be handling the hundo in minimum payment (but ugh, over the years. I hate interest that isn't working for me. May be a better bet to do $600, pay back $900 immediately, see if I can get a nice consolidation at a better rate with the improved credit score after a few months. OTOH, that interest is going to be a heck of a lot smaller than what I'm currently paying on the my highest-interest account).

Then again, if I fix my dang printer, I may very well have quite a bit of tax refund coming and not have to bother.


If she catches the Duke of Edinburgh lip-synching a British artist's song into a hairbrush in the lavvy, Queen Elizabeth II knights that artist. Connery was knighted, not because of his time as 007, but for "My Pretty Irish Girl."

There is no pain, you see no races

Someone just tweeted that they "actually like Trump, because he shakes up the comfortably smug," and now, God help me, I want to re-write "Comfortably Numb" with those words.

"Hello... I see you love The Big Lebowski
"And you have 'vintage' t-shirt,
"No, you cannot touch my hair..."