cookie, don't push me, don't you push me
May. 29th, 2020 05:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brandywine28-- First things first: Fiona Apple, am I right?
-- I am. I'm right.
-- Also, as long as we're talking about music: I know crucifixion season is long, long over and I really should find a different musical to fixate on. Ideally one with fewer floggings. And I will! As soon as I force you all to watch this act of genius. Why? Exactly.
-- My Cuomo crush has run its course, as all things must. Sunrise, sunset. Something-something, dew on the grass, etc.
-- Honestly, it's for the best. I'm not cut out to be a political wife. I'd snap somewhere really inconvenient, like a ribbon cutting ceremony or a handshake festival, and just go feral. Start biting everyone.
-- Also, I guess there was that thing where it seemed like he owned just way, way too many salt and pepper shakers? Like, I don't know what's going on in this photo, but whatever it is? It's a turn off.
-- Aaaaaand...this is not an eventful update. I'm sorry.
-- My world has ensmallened. To the point where all I really think about anymore are unrefrigerated corpse trucks, and how much I don't wanna end up in one.
-- Or in a Trump(TM) Mass Burial Pit. Don't wanna end up in one of those, either.
-- (Both are very real things and therefore very real possibilities. I'm right to worry.)
-- Meanwhile, trust fund idiots are rubbing up against each other in the West Village, the cops are out for blood again and my desire to share stupid crap with the rest of the world has NOT ensmallened.
-- Hence, boring updates.
-- Again. Sorry.
-- However! My webcam creeping continues apace!
-- There's this one person who has a late lunch in Bryant Park, same time, same bench, every day. Like clockwork.
-- They're always alone, and always in the same lumpy parka, hood up, so I can't really get a grasp on age or gender, but their loneliness speaks to me.
-- I have decided we will have a summer wedding.
-- Not this summer. Some future summer, when I can commission the white, hoopskirted monstrosity of my dreams AND hire the fifteen person team it'll take to wrangle me into it.
-- Also, I want a cupcake tower.
-- See?? I'm making plans! That's a good sign, right?
-- A hideously depressed and cripplingly anxious individual wouldn't be able to plan a BEAUTIFUL SUMMER WEDDING. Would they?
-- No, seriously. I'm asking.
-- I am. I'm right.
-- Also, as long as we're talking about music: I know crucifixion season is long, long over and I really should find a different musical to fixate on. Ideally one with fewer floggings. And I will! As soon as I force you all to watch this act of genius. Why? Exactly.
-- My Cuomo crush has run its course, as all things must. Sunrise, sunset. Something-something, dew on the grass, etc.
-- Honestly, it's for the best. I'm not cut out to be a political wife. I'd snap somewhere really inconvenient, like a ribbon cutting ceremony or a handshake festival, and just go feral. Start biting everyone.
-- Also, I guess there was that thing where it seemed like he owned just way, way too many salt and pepper shakers? Like, I don't know what's going on in this photo, but whatever it is? It's a turn off.
-- Aaaaaand...this is not an eventful update. I'm sorry.
-- My world has ensmallened. To the point where all I really think about anymore are unrefrigerated corpse trucks, and how much I don't wanna end up in one.
-- Or in a Trump(TM) Mass Burial Pit. Don't wanna end up in one of those, either.
-- (Both are very real things and therefore very real possibilities. I'm right to worry.)
-- Meanwhile, trust fund idiots are rubbing up against each other in the West Village, the cops are out for blood again and my desire to share stupid crap with the rest of the world has NOT ensmallened.
-- Hence, boring updates.
-- Again. Sorry.
-- However! My webcam creeping continues apace!
-- There's this one person who has a late lunch in Bryant Park, same time, same bench, every day. Like clockwork.
-- They're always alone, and always in the same lumpy parka, hood up, so I can't really get a grasp on age or gender, but their loneliness speaks to me.
-- I have decided we will have a summer wedding.
-- Not this summer. Some future summer, when I can commission the white, hoopskirted monstrosity of my dreams AND hire the fifteen person team it'll take to wrangle me into it.
-- Also, I want a cupcake tower.
-- See?? I'm making plans! That's a good sign, right?
-- A hideously depressed and cripplingly anxious individual wouldn't be able to plan a BEAUTIFUL SUMMER WEDDING. Would they?
-- No, seriously. I'm asking.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-11 11:24 pm (UTC)Omg, you're right! There IS a flogging in Sweeney Todd! (The world of musical theatre: so weird. So amazing.)
I just Youtubed the prologue from the National Theatre production and: 1. The lungs on those people! I am instantly enthralled. And 2. Someone in the comments called Helena Bonham Carter "inert" and I'm cackling in agreement.
I feel like you're being awfully generous to the Cuomos re: their possible salt preferences, when it's probably just another case of RICH PEOPLE: HUH? (Although, if you're right, and each one of them does require a different, highly specific type of salt with each meal, then that is unforgivably pretentious and they deserve the guillotine. I shall construct one myself. In the basement I don't have.) (I wanna see the stolen dinner services! God, I miss museums.)
Make your Thanos lists, girl. Use up entire notebooks. (Who knew chorus was the thing that was keeping you soft and un-murdery? :)
Okay. A doughnut tower MIGHT be cooler than a cupcake tower. (But I still want my hoopskirt!)
I don't know if I'll write my own vows, but someone WILL sing an operatic rendition of Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time and there will be crying. Copious, performative crying. (Also, I guess I should introduce myself to my bride-and-or-groom at some point. I mean. Right?)