…the who cares girl…

The Boy working out with his latest toy, a kettlebell. He’s always trying something new for exercise. I haven’t exercised in um…ah…huh. Yeah. It’s hard to starve yourself/exercise at the same time, oops, did I say that out loud? We’re going over to the Boy’s sister’s house tomorrow for her son’s birthday party, and we’re going to retrieve my treadmill from them, since we now have a house and we have room for it. I’m going to start running* again, 30 minutes a day. I’ve also ordered some yoga videos from Netflix. For fun. I mean, “fun”.

I just can’t believe that no one is interested in glittery paintings of obscure gay icons. I’ve been planning to do a “Cockettes” series for ever.

Some inspiration from the latest “Vogue”:

Oooh, ahhhhh, lust lust lust.

This may be the one and only time you see wrinkles in “Vogue”! Don’t you think eventually with all the Botox and lip injections that there has to be a backlash? People will start showing off MORE wrinkles and have crooked, discolored teeth because that’s the New Look? It has to happen. It has to.

I love this hair. “Should I dye my hair like this?” I asked the Boy.

“No!” he said. Then, a minute later: “Well, go ahead. It doesn’t matter…”

He was grumpy the other day because he went off his meds COLD TURKEY! CLAIMING HE “FORGOT”!!! We don’t go off our meds cold turkey in this family!!! NOOOOOOO!!! But things are better now.

It’s obscene to be awake at 6 in the morning on your day off, but here I am. More time for typing up my novel and painting and engaging in hopeless A.D.D. “cleaning”, Good God, I did that yesterday for about 2 hours and wore myself out. We are both pack rats. It’s ridic.

* Slowly plodding and whining.