A plastic leg, sitting on a porch railing in Woosta!:



Seriously.

Waging my gentle war against the stupidity of Valentine's Day, I command you to say "I love you!" to those you love- friends, Romans, countrymen, countrywomen, family, your hairdresser, your dominatrix, the cute kid at the grocery store, your dealer, your butcher, your baker, your candlestickmaker, the hot meter reader, etc, etc. You get the idea.

As a special present, because I love you all: cheesetastic smut.


In unrelated news, I had my first Lunacon dream last night. We put my Nine-Toed Mom (TM) in charge of the filking track. WTF, Batman?

I didn't get any sewing done this weekend. Ah well. Instead, I gardened and I cooked.

( Welcome to the urban jungle )

( Indian food requires sharing )

The other night, I was flipping through U2 by U2 (aside- I love U2. I don't care how crazy Bono gets, or how they were punk, then were kinda angsty, then techno-esque, then went back to rock, I will always love U2). At one point, Bono mentions his hair disaster called the 80's. He looked like he had a skunk, or rather a badger, stapled to his head because of a not-so-accidental incident with some peroxide. I was like, oh, ha ha ha BADGER hair! Oh, wait-

( I had badger hair once, too )

Photographic evidence:

( Sushi, sushi )

I finally exacted payment for the Jayne hat:
( Evan )

I've wanted a picture of goofing off on the train:
( Me and Stacie )