18.05.05..4:42 pm

ILLEGAL LEG SHEATHES

A few weeks ago I illegally opened the mail of someone who USED to live in M�s flat complex, but does so no longer. I know that much for certain because they USED to live IN M�s flat. Terrible person, or nosey parker who cannot resist SEND OFF FOR YOUR FREE PAIR OF TIGHTS TODAY notices? With STICKERS to indicate your specific tight desire? That�s for them not me to decide. In anycase, the hoax was TOTALLY successful! They arrived on Saturday, and because I did not arrive until nearly Sunday morning I had to wait an entire eight hours to rip open the weirdly floral scented plastic packaging (lilacs I swear) and plunge my legs into the black sheathes within. However, I�m sad to report that, as far as illegally procured items go, I�m not impressed.

These are supposed to have dual-sided control and extra silk webbing which means that they WILL NOT (so the package proclaims happily) UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES snag, tear, ladder, run, snip, or hole IN ANY CAPACITY. Now had I obtained said tights legally, I would be AT THIS VERY MINUTE writing a very sternly worded letter to SILKY right now.

Firstly, these tights are also not JET BLACK, rather MOSTLY GREY. And sheer at that. I ordered the JET BLACK in the first place because my legs are sporting the sort of growth most pubescent boys would kills for. My leg hair growth is long and luxurious and very fine. However, it�s not something I wish my colleagues or friends to marvel. I keep it honed so especially for M (snort and guffaw, he would say to that), away from prying eyes. Wearing these tights is going to FORCE me to wax my legs.

Secondly, these tights are NOT snag free and one needs merely to cross one�s legs before they fall to pieces and flutter softly down to your ankles in swiss cheese tatters. This is not due to the leg hair, it�s long and luxurious, not stubbly, I assure you. It�s also not due to talon like finger nails or ice-pick toe nails. My nails are short, crisp and without splinters. What this involves is a DOUBLED waxing necessity. Not only can you SEE my hair beneath, but with the holiness they actually poke through in little sheaf bundles, like wheat in a children�s illustrated farm story.

Still, none of that is as dire as my thirdly. THIRDLY, they have all the hold of a post pregnancy vulva. Entirely without support or elastic. Now, I�m a pretty skinny girl. I don�t need the support, but who doesn�t like svelter legs? Who doesn�t want to feel, just slightly, like their legs are colt-like and taut. And maybe a little shiny from �glowing� under the gaze of so much admiration? What one does not want is folds around the ankles and enough material behind the knee that Britney Spears could create the entire myriad of ensembles for her next tour. Including back up dancers.

However, I did not open up the invitation, carefully apply those supple stickers, or gleefully pop my notice of intension in the post box. According to SILKY one Ms. A______ F______ did. So I can�t do anything but refuse to pay the �11.65 they�ve invoiced, and possibly send back all three pairs with googly eyes sewn into the toes with wide red felt mouths. But I�m keeping the pair of TROUSER SOCKS they threw in besides. TROUSER SOCKS!

DAIRY RELATED BUSINESS

Only two points of notice.

1. It�s Day Six of the Milk Jug Hooha in the toilet. It�s still there. DIFFERENT DATE! The jug is currently filled with water, so perhaps the perpetrator isn�t so much after milk kicks, as jugs.. ho ho ho.
2. The yoghurt I bought on Saturday seems to have turned to cheese. And yet I continue to eat.

THE FAM�s IN FLIGHT

Actually they landed this morning. My Mum and the Sistercreature had a good flight apparently, landed early, no complication, where up at my Nan�s in a record breaking hour and a half (unheard of truly as she�s about as far from Gatwick while still being in London as you can possibly get), blah, blah, all well.

I�m not sure how Mum manages to do this, but she hadn�t even LEFT CANADA before she was winding me up about ridiculous non-matters. I�m sure she just does it to keep her hand in, make sure she�s still got the knack of twisting sharply under my skin. I was really looking forward to them arriving to be honest. I�ve not seen them since September, my time�s been cutting back increasingly, which means there�s no time to be calling. But we email nearly everyday, just short snippets to say hello. And NOW Mum�s claiming that because I need to STUDY I�m obviously the worst daughter in the world for NEGLECTING them. I think that�s a bit of an odd one as she�s the one who would skin me alive if I dared get anything less than a Distinction with Honours and a Cherry on Top.

M�s not met any of them yet. MWAH HA! There's no escaping them now.

FASIONISTA SUPREMA

It�s getting late, so it�s Hammer Bullet Time:

1. Wearing my new, though as we discovered totally crap, tights with a mini out this Sunday morning just gone I was passing a group of guys hanging out by their car, exchange the passing pleasantries as it was such a gorgeous day and I got wolf whistled at. TWICE. Thank you(?) but �Good morning� was sufficient.
2. Monday I took the day off work to try and recupe from the Hayfever Weekend special M and I got attack with late Saturday, and so I used the time to hook up with some of the kids for a little study binge. Leah and I had been sitting there for a couple of hours and were completely brain drained by the time Loulou showed up. She had just sat down when she just stopped in her tracks, eyes glimmering and demanded to know where I�d had my hair done (Rough Cuts in Angel) and how much (�38) to which she was aghast because she likes it so much and that�s not much (in her books) to be paying for an otherwise swanky new do. (I�ve known what I wanted for ages, but had no idea how to ask for it, so when the vague mumbles and frantic gesticulations didn�t work I blurted out, �Like an inverse mullet! You know? Instead of short on top and long at the back, I want it short at the back and long at the front.. Does that make sense?� Apparently it did.)
3. Later when I met up with Laura and Mark Monday night we were walking along Oxford St. when this guy tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around expecting him to have picked up some mysterious escapee from my Inexplicably Huge Bag, but no. He held up a camera and in stilted English asked if he could take a picture of me, explaining that he was a fashion and design student and needed to take pictures of �fashionable people� on the street for a project. Figuring he must be including me in the fray as an example of What Not to Wear, I let him snap away.

Weird on all fronts that.

AN (ALMOST)HAIKU FOR MY HONEY:

you are my milk
my cornflakes, my first cup of coffee
without you I quiver
unable to awake

I know. I'm quite revolting.

****emmms just waiting for her call