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Jul. 3rd, 2011 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadeHey, look, it's a post with no languages in it!
This is pure, unadulterated awesome. For those of you hesitating over the link, it is a concert performance of the Faeries' Aire and Death Waltz. You know, that piece of music that includes frogs and dirigibles and release the cattle and god knows what all else. Play Like A Rolling Stone was included in there somewhere. Apparently, this guy did a fair bit of this. I am laughing my cute little ass off, I tell you. Laughing.
So, I don't find Jeff Bridges that sexy. I mean, yeah, I can appreciate that he's good looking, but as a ooh grabby hands drool drool type, he doesn't do it for me. Give me Bruce Boxleitner any day.
But apparently? Put a guitar in that man's hands and my knees go to butter. And I can't stop staring. And this started, mind you, before I ever actually heard him sing or play guitar. Which I kind of want to now. I have some songs from Crazy Heart, so I'm not entirely bereft. But damn. I'm not sure if it's a strange button or a predictable one.
Yesterday, I didn't get as much accomplished with the art and the icon making as I wanted to. Not as efficient with my time, didn't at all get around to painting (eh, tomorrow), but I got some idea of what I was doing and I still have the rest of tonight. Today? I was a domestic Goddess. I made two steaklets, a pile of chicken, bread, cleaned the living room, cleaned the kitchen and organized the goddamn cabinets so that I have some idea of what to do with the two tins of peaches and one of pears (pears? really? wtf was I thinking) and so that the FOUR FREAKING BOXES of penne noodles are where I can reach them, so I don't keep thinking we don't have any and then suddenly we have four boxes. I made two loaves of bread, and I made honey butter in little pats shaped like roses and leaves and shells. Because this is why I am a domestic Goddess. To make little delicately shaped pats of honey butter. Shaddup.
Oof. The Domestic Goddess is tired. The Domestic Goddess is going to spend the rest of her night writing and doing the tags she should have done two days ago whoops.
This is pure, unadulterated awesome. For those of you hesitating over the link, it is a concert performance of the Faeries' Aire and Death Waltz. You know, that piece of music that includes frogs and dirigibles and release the cattle and god knows what all else. Play Like A Rolling Stone was included in there somewhere. Apparently, this guy did a fair bit of this. I am laughing my cute little ass off, I tell you. Laughing.
So, I don't find Jeff Bridges that sexy. I mean, yeah, I can appreciate that he's good looking, but as a ooh grabby hands drool drool type, he doesn't do it for me. Give me Bruce Boxleitner any day.
But apparently? Put a guitar in that man's hands and my knees go to butter. And I can't stop staring. And this started, mind you, before I ever actually heard him sing or play guitar. Which I kind of want to now. I have some songs from Crazy Heart, so I'm not entirely bereft. But damn. I'm not sure if it's a strange button or a predictable one.
Yesterday, I didn't get as much accomplished with the art and the icon making as I wanted to. Not as efficient with my time, didn't at all get around to painting (eh, tomorrow), but I got some idea of what I was doing and I still have the rest of tonight. Today? I was a domestic Goddess. I made two steaklets, a pile of chicken, bread, cleaned the living room, cleaned the kitchen and organized the goddamn cabinets so that I have some idea of what to do with the two tins of peaches and one of pears (pears? really? wtf was I thinking) and so that the FOUR FREAKING BOXES of penne noodles are where I can reach them, so I don't keep thinking we don't have any and then suddenly we have four boxes. I made two loaves of bread, and I made honey butter in little pats shaped like roses and leaves and shells. Because this is why I am a domestic Goddess. To make little delicately shaped pats of honey butter. Shaddup.
Oof. The Domestic Goddess is tired. The Domestic Goddess is going to spend the rest of her night writing and doing the tags she should have done two days ago whoops.