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Using fake pseudonyms
May. 12th, 2006 07:58 amI could write about bigger serious isht, but I'll do that elsewhere, cause it's Friday morning and I want fluffy instead.
Let's talk.....
~ American Idol. Shocker! Or so the headlines tell me. But even though Chris is the one I think about when I touch myself under the covers (and feel slightly sheepish about my attraction being so obvious), Elliott is the one I would marry and make sweet hot loving for years to come. He is awkward dorky delicious sexiness. And since Paris is gone, he is my choice.
~ How to interact with a DJ. Please don't come up and ask, "who's in charge of the music?" or "are you going to play anything good?" or tell me lessons about how "music makes the party, it's the lifeblood." Because here's the thing -- no matter how varied my selection, no matter how perfect my set, no matter how many people are dancing or complimenting me, I ALWAYS get at least one if not all of these statements at a gig, because guess what, there's no universal standard for a good DJ and actually, looking at you and your response, if I played all the things you wanted and I was a guest at that party, I would leave, so at least I'm talented enough to mix it up and keep your drunk a$$ here to stand at my table and yes, I did see you dancing earlier. If you're not feeling a song, WAIT. Because it's one song, maybe two, and chances are, the next one might work for you. If you want to hear something else, come up and make a request sweetly -- this is a way more successful tactic than telling me I don't know what I'm doing, which shows you are ignorant and I wouldn't take your music suggestions anyway.
To the man who complained about me playing Nick Cave, this is not directed at you -- your queeny freakout reaction was the intended effect and yes, I was trying to bum everyone out, cause if your theme is Moulin Rouge, and I'm going to nerd out and play obscure tracks from french 30s singers who died there and modern-day dark cabaret styles, because maybe one role in my life is to take theme parties a little too seriously and accurately.
~ Cornbread. I am doing some "America's Test Kitchen" experiments with cornbread which is sort of fun, but also I am a little impatient, so if there are any southerners or honorary southerners who make delicious cornbread that is definitely savory but has a softer somewhat cakey texture of the sweet, and can be made with corn meal and not corn meal mix (the latter being what my family has always used, but I can't seem to find up here), please point your recipe to me.
~ Astrological signs. Last night a woman, who I'm pretty sure was chatting me up in a flirty way, asked my sign. I was a little endeared, even though I was not interested in her at all.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
diamondtits, my cosmic triad kindred spirit [Cancer-Aries-Libra], informed me that when I tell people I'm a Cancer, they will assume I'm easy. I don't know how I feel about that. This did remind me of an advertising campaign I saw in Entertainment Weekly for a car where they ranked the best and worst drivers of the zodiac (based on a study, of course). Number one safest? Aries. Number two? Cancer. Ha. Worst? Virgo. The Virgo thing made sense to me. I often think that the most nervous and controlling drivers are the scariest.
Let's talk.....
~ American Idol. Shocker! Or so the headlines tell me. But even though Chris is the one I think about when I touch myself under the covers (and feel slightly sheepish about my attraction being so obvious), Elliott is the one I would marry and make sweet hot loving for years to come. He is awkward dorky delicious sexiness. And since Paris is gone, he is my choice.
~ How to interact with a DJ. Please don't come up and ask, "who's in charge of the music?" or "are you going to play anything good?" or tell me lessons about how "music makes the party, it's the lifeblood." Because here's the thing -- no matter how varied my selection, no matter how perfect my set, no matter how many people are dancing or complimenting me, I ALWAYS get at least one if not all of these statements at a gig, because guess what, there's no universal standard for a good DJ and actually, looking at you and your response, if I played all the things you wanted and I was a guest at that party, I would leave, so at least I'm talented enough to mix it up and keep your drunk a$$ here to stand at my table and yes, I did see you dancing earlier. If you're not feeling a song, WAIT. Because it's one song, maybe two, and chances are, the next one might work for you. If you want to hear something else, come up and make a request sweetly -- this is a way more successful tactic than telling me I don't know what I'm doing, which shows you are ignorant and I wouldn't take your music suggestions anyway.
To the man who complained about me playing Nick Cave, this is not directed at you -- your queeny freakout reaction was the intended effect and yes, I was trying to bum everyone out, cause if your theme is Moulin Rouge, and I'm going to nerd out and play obscure tracks from french 30s singers who died there and modern-day dark cabaret styles, because maybe one role in my life is to take theme parties a little too seriously and accurately.
~ Cornbread. I am doing some "America's Test Kitchen" experiments with cornbread which is sort of fun, but also I am a little impatient, so if there are any southerners or honorary southerners who make delicious cornbread that is definitely savory but has a softer somewhat cakey texture of the sweet, and can be made with corn meal and not corn meal mix (the latter being what my family has always used, but I can't seem to find up here), please point your recipe to me.
~ Astrological signs. Last night a woman, who I'm pretty sure was chatting me up in a flirty way, asked my sign. I was a little endeared, even though I was not interested in her at all.
diamondtits, my cosmic triad kindred spirit [Cancer-Aries-Libra], informed me that when I tell people I'm a Cancer, they will assume I'm easy. I don't know how I feel about that. This did remind me of an advertising campaign I saw in Entertainment Weekly for a car where they ranked the best and worst drivers of the zodiac (based on a study, of course). Number one safest? Aries. Number two? Cancer. Ha. Worst? Virgo. The Virgo thing made sense to me. I often think that the most nervous and controlling drivers are the scariest.
