Warhead On Legs

( Gaeilge )

Slowly getting back into the swing of things. A good night's sleep helped. Oddly, I got more sleep last night than I did previous nights and my eyes are only now starting to burn, so I don't know what's up with that. Still. I did a late morning routine swap, got most of my exercises done, got all my routines done and some determinations on curtain fabrics.

And last night we got the damn media center ordered and some unhealthy but not too unhealthy and emotionally fulfilling dinner at Steak and Shake and, most importantly, a goddamn nap. So that happened, and that was good too.

I've had my head sat on (thank you love) about yes, it really is that bad, and only doing one project at a time. So today's first project, and I even brought in my netbook so it could be best accomplished, is either keeping or rejecting the comma notes in the story I have. Because what the hell dude I am taking your punctuation shaker away from you. If I get that done today I will move on to finishing the CS virtues post, or at least drafting so the girls can take a look at it, and then if I still have computer time after that my next computer project will be another scene or two in WL. At home my project will probably be tidying because that I think will help me sort my head out.

Did get to page 61 yesterday in Russian. I'm rather amazed that I'm able to do all of this at all. Too little sleep, too many damn crises. The more I look at it the more glad I am for a vacation, even if that vacation is for an exhausting, saddening reason. I would much more regret not taking the time than I will taking one last weekend.

Allons-y! We are sad, yes, but we are ladies, and we are courtesans, and we are strong. (Yes, sometimes we speak in the plural because we are also vast and contain multitudes.) And we will endure. Now, we have work to do.

( Gaeilge )

Would someone please explain to me why buying bras is a trial akin to the kinds of quests that involve dragons, rings, and cups? Out of the four or five bras I have bought in the last year to replace the ones that were finally giving up the ghost and snapping in the elastic and underwire (which is a whole other complaint because OW), two fit surprisingly well after the initial breaking in period of WHY AM I LUMPY EVERYWHERE, two are decent fitting from the get go but involve surprise!nipple poppage when I bend over for any length of time, so, not for yoga then, one is... I don't even know what it's doing. Never buying a DKNY bra again. And I haven't dared yet try the strapless bras because what the fucking hell. I have, however, noted down the type of bra that did fit surprisingly well after the initial breaking in period. Fuckit, I'll wear those on the weekend and break them in when I'm staggering around the house in sweats and no one can see me adjust myself, and then I'll have a decent pack of bras that fit and some for more revealing dresses and some just to go "oh fine I will wear you because it is laundry day but then you can fuck right off to the closet again."

Yes, women adjust themselves too. (For all the one, two of you who might be reading this going "eh?") No, I don't think women OR men should adjust themselves in public, it destroys the illusion that we have our shit together. I suspect men who do so just feel entitled to do so because they feel entitled to do every other bloody thing.

Ahem. This rant brought to you by not actually bras, but tights, which I tried on today and while one pair was, as per usual, "you have too much bulk to fit in me what the hell are you doing woman nothing tastes as good as skinny feels," the other pair was warm and just right! I may keep the other pair around, since tights are non-returnable and I don't know what else to do with it, and while I'm on the lowest edge of height if I do lose these last five pounds ish that I've been trying to for six or seven months I will be further into the upper edge of the tight size, so they might actually fit. They did fit right up to mid thigh! And then went nopity nope nope nopetopus.

Fucking bodies, man, I swear. On the plus side, this concludes my trying shit out for Portland, and now all I have to do is .... wait, does it? No, yes it does, okay. Now all I have to do is buy pantyhose before I fly. Or after I land. Either way. And if Portland in April turns out to be fucking freezing Mr. Bigglesworth, I have tights! Soft, warm tights. Mmmmm tights. Also I have socks if I feel like doing an Anime thing and socks and garters and zettai ryouiki.

And then I just put on purple eyeshadow (Wolf of the Nothing and All Love is Unrequited by Geek Chic) and now I look very purple and sparkly. Whee! I also successfully put on liquid eyeliner... okay, I tried liner pencil and didn't like that very much, so I tried liquid eyeliner and liked that a lot more. I suspect I could also manage the whole eyeshadow-wet-as-liner thing, but that'll be an experiment for a weekend when I'm not rushing out the door in the morning.

Yeah, this has been your irregular installment of Jag is actually occasionally a girly girl and talks about clothes and makeup. Despite not giving much thought to either her clothes or what little makeup she customarily wears, most of the time. She also sometimes talks about herself in the third person. Yes.

( Gaeilge )

My kingdom for a 501 Irish Verbs book. Seriously.

The great bra adventure continues. I haven't told you guys about the great bra adventure, have I? It's not that great compared to some, at least I have a size on the upper edge of standard. But, okay. So I started snapping my underwires on my bras, which is usually a good sign I need to get more. For whatever reason I seem to have been getting them in batches the last ten years, when one goes, the rest usually follow, so, new bras. So okay, rather than go to whatever cheap discount store Voldemart I usually get my bras from, where they still fit decently and last a few years, I decide to go to an actual lingerie store. I get a recommendation from Anna, measure myself once I figure out how the measuring tape goes in ways that will not make me feel horrible about myself, and hey! I've lost an inch or two around my ribcage. Cool, maybe I've gone down a band size. So I get my bras and I order them and they come and first of all, holy shit padding! The other reason I get my bras at a cheap discount store these days is because they are the only place left that doesn't have everything in padded bras. I loathe padded bras on the general principle of, look bitch, I already have enough padding, I do not need more! So what I ordered were bras that I thought would fit and be comfy and what I got were giant turquoise colored foam cups held together by itty bitty straps. The fuck. The shoulder straps were also the shortest I've ever seen. I let them sit in the box overnight and and think about their sins.

Then I got up in the morning and decided it might not be that bad after all, I'll try it. With the sort of reservation I usually keep for poking something that may or may not be venomous/poisonous. So, before my shower, I went and tried two of them on, since I got two different styles. And they weren't bad? But it turns out I haven't gone down a band size like I thought. Which likely only means that the bras I originally bought a few years ago were a larger band size than I thought; all the size info has now rubbed off of them so I'm guessing, and the measuring tape would do nothing since, band stretch. So, fine, I will wear the goddamn padded bras, but I'm exchanging them for the proper band size and we'll see how that fits. I think, actually, once I get to the right band size it'll work out? But fucking padded bras what the hell. I suppose I'll get used to the concept. I got used to putting on makeup! But would someone please explain to me the purpose of padding in bras for women who already have ample shelf space? I hope there is one. I'd hate to think this was some sort of hur-dur big boobies conspiracy.

So, yeah. That's my morning! That and gleeing over the fact that three bowls of pasta alfredo over two nights are not enough to make me gain so much as a pound. I suppose it's a tradeoff for ballet exercises in the morning and building what might end up being ridiculous amounts of muscle. Oops? I will once again marvel at how much more densely muscle packs than fat. Still about the same size I was five, six years ago. Eight years ago? Just twenty ish pounds heavier. Where the hell does it all GO? Bloody hell. I think of all of those weight loss victory stories, the before and after pictures, and I think, I haven't gained twenty pounds! Muscle. Tightly packed muscle. Jeez. On the upside, it's made me not so afraid of the scale.

Right. I almost got all the edits on Black Ice done last night! In between getting lain on by a boyfriend. Finishing that and the goddamn G&M today and why is it that every time I think I've gotten ahead on Gods and Monsters I end up right back where I usually am? Argh. Maybe I can finish that today and start on the next one tonight. Yes. I think between that I will also work on blog entries and get those done. And that ought to be enough to keep me busy for the rest of the day. If I can manage it there may be porn writing, or at least implied porn writing, somehow I don't think it's going to work around to actually being on camera, as it were. But that story's been slowly dying for the past two weeks. Ugh.

( Gaeilge )

I'm having one of those "OMG I'm learning Irish" moments again. Which is probably good because after the first three lessons I'm going to need buckets of review to keep this in my head. Plus pronunciation review.

So. I spent most of this weekend asleep or playing stupid video games, which is probably just what I needed. I managed not to go nuts over the fact that the apartment isn't clean, my stuff wasn't getting written, I just sat back and relaxed and slept a lot and now I feel better. I still have no idea what I'm going to do about, well, anything that I still have to do stuff about, but all I have to do is survive this week and the resultant craft fair plus trade fair at the end of it. And then it'll be okay.

And, you know. Slowly getting back on the routines, exercise, languages, sleep, guitar, I've got music theory lessons coming up, day job. Knitting projects. Work type work. Lots of, although at least today, still not much incoming. Probably a lot of outgoing. And packing for the show. And. Ugh. Want another weekend day to clean and write and so on. Then again, I'd probably just spend that half asleep, too. A little bit of each at a time.