bump in the daylight
Apr. 6th, 2004 06:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
oiranThe most nervous dog in the world keeps barking (deep, booming, abrupt chunks of dog-sound) every time there's a noise outside--or inside. It's disturbing, because it sounds like some very large, heavy, and clumsy person/monster is staggering around the ground floor of my house while I am upstairs staring (without enthusiasm) at open document windows on the computer. When I go downstairs to check there is, of course, no one in the house, and, upon checking outside, apparently no living beings in the entire neighborhood. However, the L-Word house next door has seven cars out front, so they're probably having a party later on, and perhaps they're dragging in dungeon equipment or the like.
The woman who owns the house has many, many girlfriends who rotate in and out. Unfortunately, not a single one of them looks like a GIRL, so even when drunken women lean over the fence and encourage me to come "visit," I am not compelled to do so. If she gets some girly-looking friends, though, I'm inviting myself to the next barbecue.
We do have a strange presence in our house though: the smoker. We had quit smoking long before we moved here, and the previous owners were non-smokers. The original owners of the house are a mystery to me, except that they were apparently a married couple. Occasionally, either Mr. Glove or I will see someone out of the corner of our eye, but the strongest evidence of a cohabitant is the cigarette smoke smell coming from the basement. Not every day, and not even every week, but usually when it shows up, it is present very strongly by the basement door and the stairs leading down for a few days in a row before disappearing again. It is not unusual for the dog to growl at the upper corners of rooms or to get stuck staring into the faceted glass doorknobs, but the frequency of this increases around the smoke episodes. However, the smoker doesn't clomp around like a golem, so I'm rather hoping it's just clumsy women dropping things next door.
I met with Kicky yesterday to discuss her costume dilemma for her upcoming performance at the New York Burlesque Festival, AKA my initial reason to go to NYC. I convinced her that she needed to update her costume for the Carmen Miranda-ish number, and so now I am making a Carmen Miranda costume. Out of sequinned fabric. I have to make the pattern, too. And if you are wondering if I've ever tackled something like this before, the answer would be: NO. But, really, the costume is a skirt and a little bitty vest/blouse thing and a shitload of ruffles, so it's not anything difficult. It's just...sequins. Cutting and sewing and picking sequins out of seams. But it's going to look great.
On the off chance that anyone has sequin sewing tips (I've already garnered quite a few from various sources, but more can't hurt), please feel free to give me information.
cell phone: Hee! Y'all are very humorous. Keep calling!
chores: What I really need to do is vacuum, but I think I'll go to the grocery store and look for a new issue of EW instead. Because neither of those activities makes a banshee-like whine.
The woman who owns the house has many, many girlfriends who rotate in and out. Unfortunately, not a single one of them looks like a GIRL, so even when drunken women lean over the fence and encourage me to come "visit," I am not compelled to do so. If she gets some girly-looking friends, though, I'm inviting myself to the next barbecue.
We do have a strange presence in our house though: the smoker. We had quit smoking long before we moved here, and the previous owners were non-smokers. The original owners of the house are a mystery to me, except that they were apparently a married couple. Occasionally, either Mr. Glove or I will see someone out of the corner of our eye, but the strongest evidence of a cohabitant is the cigarette smoke smell coming from the basement. Not every day, and not even every week, but usually when it shows up, it is present very strongly by the basement door and the stairs leading down for a few days in a row before disappearing again. It is not unusual for the dog to growl at the upper corners of rooms or to get stuck staring into the faceted glass doorknobs, but the frequency of this increases around the smoke episodes. However, the smoker doesn't clomp around like a golem, so I'm rather hoping it's just clumsy women dropping things next door.
I met with Kicky yesterday to discuss her costume dilemma for her upcoming performance at the New York Burlesque Festival, AKA my initial reason to go to NYC. I convinced her that she needed to update her costume for the Carmen Miranda-ish number, and so now I am making a Carmen Miranda costume. Out of sequinned fabric. I have to make the pattern, too. And if you are wondering if I've ever tackled something like this before, the answer would be: NO. But, really, the costume is a skirt and a little bitty vest/blouse thing and a shitload of ruffles, so it's not anything difficult. It's just...sequins. Cutting and sewing and picking sequins out of seams. But it's going to look great.
On the off chance that anyone has sequin sewing tips (I've already garnered quite a few from various sources, but more can't hurt), please feel free to give me information.
cell phone: Hee! Y'all are very humorous. Keep calling!
chores: What I really need to do is vacuum, but I think I'll go to the grocery store and look for a new issue of EW instead. Because neither of those activities makes a banshee-like whine.
