Caterwauling

Because it’s required by blog law that I link to Sherri on Mondays, I was inspired by her celebrity collage enough to make one of my own.

I hate this photo of myself, but that’s the first photo I found and, let’s face it, I hate all photos of myself. I do want to try it with another one — I mean, on what planet would I be confused with Tara Reid? (Minus the drinking problem!) 😉

Speaking of which, I just picked up a beautiful bottle of Belle Vallee — the ’04 Pinot Gris. Might as well crack that bitch open tonight. *glug*

I have oft waxed poetic about my love affair with designer colognes here. And it’s funny because, in addition to people always stopping me and swearing that they know me from somewhere, they also sniff me and say I remind them of somewhere or someone.

Last week, I was wearing my current favorite, Calvin Klein’s Euphoria, when someone swore I reminded them of someone they knew, years ago. Then I was at the mechanic’s on Saturday, wearing Obsession (more Calvin Klein), and the girl behind the counter came out, sniffed me and swore she knew that scent from somewhere. We had a great talk about how scents can transport us back in time 10 years and across state lines.

And then today I spritzed on some Japanese Cherry Blossom — a freaking $5 body splash I picked up from Bath & Body Works. And my neighbor, when I walked by her space, suddenly remembered her two favorite aunts — the one had traveled to Japan a lot and the scent reminded her of their living room.

But the funny part? When I gave her the bottle to examine/use, she said she didn’t get the same feeling of familiarity with just the bottle — that it was something within my own chemistry that amped it up.

That’s why I have so many different bottles. It’s kind of like vodka — you never know whether you’re going to want vanilla or raspberry or coconut or pineapple or even plain, so you just need one of each. 😉

It is interesting, though, how some things smell horrible or less-than-pleasing in the bottle, yet when they’re on someone, they’re completely different. With me, I suppose I have such a strong personality that I can carry off the bold scents. I hate fruity scents — give me spices and florals any day. I also notice that one spritz is enough for me — any more and it’s like I’m Pigpen but with a perfume cloud. I suppose it’s that I refuse to go unnoticed, and my perfumes tend to react accordingly and comply.

After not wearing heels for two days, man these pointy bitches are driving me up the fucking wall. 🙂 I managed to get a sunburn yesterday for the brief time I was above the Mason-Dixon line, so I’m a wee bit, oh, hot today too.

I know, bitch bitch bitch!!! 🙂

I hate it that I don’t hit my stride in the day till after 1 p.m. Seems like a waste, all the hours before it. I have never really worked less than an eight-hour workday in my life, but if I could just hit the *right* hours, I could take it from 12 hours to six and a half, and the productivity level would remain the same.

I remind myself of a not-skinny “Ally McBeal” — when someone asked her why her problems received so much drama and emphasis, she’d replied simply, “Because they’re mine.”