Pardon my dust

Renovating, because the last theme started breaking down and I don’t have the skills to fix it. This one has issues as well, but I’ll deal with it later. Looking for a  nice industrial theme – finding a theme that suits me that’s part rough ends, part scary me, part chick that likes French Tips. There’s no ready made theme for people like me, so I may have to spend a little time designing one. Oy.


My landlord has put my complex up for sale, so I’m enjoying a bottle (yep) of Primal Roots 2011 while I straighten and make this place not look (or smell) anything like my neighbors’.  Four agents will be by tomorrow, to poke and judge and place a price on my home. I love my apartment but I hate my neighbors. I hate living with people who treat this place like public housing, where nothing needs to be taken care of and everything smells like dirty bodies, stale cigarette smoke and despair.

All I need to do now is smooth, wipe and spritz. I hope I remember where I hide everything.


I started a new story this week, based on a website pointed in my direction. It’s awful in it’s ignorant generalities, and cocky assertions about religions the webmistress clearly knows nothing about. I can’t wait to deconstructed those feelings.

Now's the time on Sprockets when we dance
Sure, I can make that voodoo doll for your Lammas/Rosh Hashanah celebration! It’s made with Ancient African Trading Beads and pages from a book of Nazi Lullabies

After I told myself I would let myself be hurt again, I’m watching MasterChef. I don’t have a dog in this fight, but like Hell’s Kitchen, I really wish the contestants had better personalities. As Four went down to Three, I cheered, because miserable human beings shouldn’t be allowed to cook for other people. Cooking is a joy. Serving people is a joy. Cooking with a crap attitude spoils the entire experience.