overlap

I've spent some time hopping from one blog to the next to see what else was out there. It's good for my language skills, good for my wider awareness of the world I live in, and of course a good source of ideas to nick! I've yet to random jump into the blog of any the sisters-in-sparkliness I'm already familiar with, but I did find an example of the sparkly instinct thriving across the pond, and I've added a link below. You can never have too many recommendations!

My weekends are frequently busy, so it's no surprise that I'm not entirely accustomed to the madness that is mid-afternoon shopping at an out of town shopping centre. I had an idea it wouldn't be easy, but finding a skirt I liked the look of on the shop's website, I figured it was worth a look. If they'd had the skirt in stock, it would have been, but I remain amused and bemused by how many people appear to take the hectic part of a saturday afternoon as a recreational activity. In the 24/7 modern world, it's not my idea of fun. In any case, failing to find the skirt I wanted I came home, and took a short trip up the dual-carriageway to a nearby out-of-town superstore. It's fair to say the location is on the frontier between cosmopolitan city life, and six-finger badlands. I'm not very in the habit of sparkly shopping, but I am used to that look that says who's that buying that? Nonetheless, I came home with a pale pink knitted top, turtle neck (natch), and a skirt in black with a diagonal pinstripe, and shaped so it flicks out a little on my knees. There's a little more room in it than I need, but then it's designed to hang off hips that are a little bigger than mine. So bath, finger nails, exfoliate, peel off mask, tinted moisturiser, eyebrow pencil, two pink eyeshadows and one grey one just along the upper lash line, sparkly blusher, Naturally Glossy mascara in brown/black, pale pink lipstick, and a trace of powder later, I just need to dry my hair and I'll be ready to go out. Not quite as Cathy Magowan as it sounds, or as this colour palette will allow me to indicate. There's a bottle of wine with my name on it when I get back!

Amsterdam - cracking band, you heard it here first. They'll be in the hit parade next week with any luck, and about time too - I've never seen any other band with a honey roadie, spooning bee-juice down a singer with a troublesome throat mid-song before!

I've been asked a question. Despite the clear-mascara-like transparency of what I do say, there's plenty that I leave out. I usually type something, read it, re-read it, edit it and re-read it again. And that's when I'm rushing. It's been suggested, purely in the spirit of curiosity, that the gender-specifics of my particular choice of bedpartner might be a matter of some small interest. And having been asked, I'm wondering whether that's something that's crossed anybody else's mind. I've a feeling that some sparkly ladies have a certain factual understanding in this regard, but if I could be bothered to do the work I'd put up a multiple choice poll to see if any impression has been given. It's not a right or wrong question, I'm just curious to know what assumptions I've invited, if any. You can add a comment anonymously by the way, so I'm quite happy for passing lurkers to take a random guess too! And in case there's any doubt, I'll come back to a fuller discussion of the subject in due course.

It goes without saying that I *heart* my sparkly ladies very much, but I'll say it again in any case. And here I am using the magic (though powder-free) world of the blog to expand on what I'm finding myself increasingly reluctant to say in another place. That occasional reluctance should be understandable in the circumstances, having spent the last year in occasional pub trips with people who live in the same city as me, and with whom the subject of sparkliness has never raised its perfectly coiffed head until someone recently made mention, to which one of my local people was quick to rise in a spirited setting-the-record-straight defence. And compliments about my hair, which I'm certainly vain enough not to lipgloss over. It was probably inevitable, and when it happened I wasn't and still am not bothered. Does this expertly over made up face look bothered? But really though? Does it? The anonymous world of cybersparkling means the world to me, but with decades of disclosure paranoia behind me it's still sometimes difficult to overcome that natural instinct. It can be a difficult line to walk, and my balance isn't always 100% in these heels. In the real world where I do also live from time to time, I have always worked hard to keep my business to myself, and that means all of my business, of which the sparkliness is but one part. It's not for no reason that I've not directly linked here, nor do I visit in the daytime. Sparkliness is a another conversation I've never yet had in a workplace, and I don't plan to start making a habit of it now. I'm here because I'm special, and you're here because I'm happy for you to know. This is mostly me talking to myself, about myself, but you're always welcome. And if you want me to explain myself better, feel free to point out what isn't sufficiently clear. * No sparkly ladies were described as cackling harridans in the process of making this post, for they are not and I will fight anyone who says they are.

Jealous, moi? On the one hand, sort of, I guess. On the other, no, not really. But the more of my employer's time I spend talking to my sparkly ladies, the more I feel that nearly eighteen months on from last time, it's about time I saw some of them again, and some perhaps for the first time. Now there's obviously certain practical problems associated with this, and a great big squealing and cackling en masse menacing of waiting staff is not really my idea of a good time. Nor is public places in daylight (see Vampire) much of an appealing prospect in general, though I guess that in company I'm familiar with it could be, and gaining that level of in person comfortableness wouldn't take long - I'm a fairly get-on-with-it kinda gal once I've decided I'm happy with something. I'm certainly not so needy that I'm unable to tell what is asking too much of people who know of intensely personal and private information, but who only get to that information by being people who have no obvious and direct link to who I am in *real*, and who therefore don't know me. Which is something of a Catch 22 carat choker, really. Hmm, I should do some thinking.

Just got home from the return of PWEI. Beautiful sunny day, lovely drive there in mostly open roads, with snow still on top of hills in places. Lovely drive back with a clear enough sky and full moon such that I could drive without headlights. In the middle, stung like hell for paying to park the car, saw a few old friends of mine and saw some fabulous kick ass rock n roll, including a couple of tracks I really wasn't expecting - a very pleasant surprise. Nice!

Labels: Pop Will Eat Itself, PWEI, reformations

Just taking a short break from sorting out six months' worth of bills, statements, direct mail and things I should both keep for ever and throw out the second they drop through the letterbox. I work in a state of the art modern paperless office environment, and the frequency with which we have to get our used paper taken away to be recycled is staggering. Wossallthatabahtthen?