tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-306728862024-03-13T16:30:58.317-05:00The Latte FilesA Little Bit Of This, A Little Bit Of That!!Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.comBlogger192125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-87130263258102268002012-11-18T03:46:00.001-06:002013-03-29T19:03:46.485-05:00Dear Freud, the Interweb has me in its deep, deep clutches. We blame my mother, yes?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">It is not the diet. Not the getting-a-wee-bit-too-snug tee after a vacation. It definitely is not the what to buy on sale, the item with the bigger mark-down or the one with the lower price tag. Nor is it the 'Bag or Shoes?' predicament. It is not the you-just-found-out-your-hot-yoga-instructer-bats-for-the-other-team. What it is, is the little yellow-orange flickering light on your modem. Nothing haunts, gives you anxiety or brings your world to a crashing halt like the three ominous words- Connection is down.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Were there Internet Gods and there are of that am sure, my mother-in-law would ask me to fast on a wednesday, wear yellow on sunday, check the vaastu of where my modem is and maybe feed fifty poor unclaimed domain names to appease the WWW. But deeply engrossed in her game of Temple Run, my pain is dismissed with a "Wait one second!". So much for divine intervention.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">By the way, has rahu-kalam passed?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Frantic to be connected, on to the next then. The ubiquitous coffee shop. Who like the Witch with her shiny red apple, has me bite. For a simple reason- Free WiFi. And instead of falling asleep for a hundred years, I suffer through loud generic pop, a populous of age-group I long left behind and terrible Lattes. Headphones on, I proceed to stare at the blinking cursor on my blank screen. In my best pensive, angst-y writer look. Wait, no one saw me checking my Facebook page, right?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">On these coffee-shops, I have a lot to say. But that's a rant best saved for another caffeinated day.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">For a blogger who has often bragged "If there's WiFi, will blog", the curse of only one or no bar seems to haunt me every time I travel. The forced two day e-detox did however chalk up to two abandoned games of scrabble, beginning Franny and Zooey (again), one squabble, two fun lunches, a bottle of wine and a brief moment spent considering self-medicating. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Hashtag YOLO. Right? RIGHT? Sigh.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Back on, and my world didn't come crashing down, that I will admit. But best not to make this a habit, yes? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This post really was going to be about the severely dependent relationship we have with Internet. How it validates, gratifies, proves and cements our social existence with an intensity that just can't be duplicated. It really was. But now that am connected, I must go Instagram my Latte and make that ever important pick- XPro or LoFi?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">(Cross-posted on High Heel Confidential)</span></div>
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Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-12605154416791216482012-07-19T02:41:00.000-05:002012-07-19T04:45:15.026-05:00You wanted to live inside the lines where the ordinariness of everything would protect you from the dragons that lay at the edge of the map ready to blow fire in your face if you strayed off course, to the edge of the known world.**<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll admit, not entirely familiar with Anne Rolphe, I bought the book first coz' I was completely taken with it's retro cover. Book covers just don't get enough chops! Now that, that's out of the way, I'll also add, I liked what I read. See, sometimes it all works out.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yeah, yeah. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Kumbaya.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"I have always wondered why mountain climbers do it. What is the necessity to make yourself cold and weary, oxygen deprived and footsore, just to get to the top of some fossils, minerals, wormy soil, all piled up in jagged shapes, rock sheers and deep drops that care nothing for human endeavors, passions, reproductive urges? But my first love was like that, dangerous, reason abandoned, sense tossed away, and compulsion driving thought. I was going to climb that mountain, plant a flag on the top, and tumble down the other side."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">-Art and Madness. A Memoir of Lust Without Reason.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">** Spectacular lines, also from 'Art and Madness'.</span></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-67439135889573129832012-07-18T04:01:00.000-05:002015-05-08T13:58:50.541-05:00Nobody will ever win the Battle of the Sexes. There's just too much fraternizing with the enemy. **<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Cocktail. A movie. Not the Tom Cruise one, the OTHER. Also a beverage. One that I need copious amounts of. A less sugary, non-fruity one if you will. Oh hell, just pour me a Martini.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">If art imitates life imitates art, then Cocktail sure is a movie of times. (No it really is and you'll soon see why.) Good girls get the boy. Girls who drink, date, earn a living and live an independent life are good to bed, not to take to Ma. (Charlatans! Harlots!) That in gist, is the movie. Oh sorry, forgot the spoiler alert. But are you really surprised? Was that really a spoiler? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">And that's why to me the umbrage, the indignant offense almost all have taken to the Guwahati incident surprises me. Did we really not see it coming? (Not that it makes the incident any less offensive and outrageous. Or scary.) Here is a movie (Cocktail) an elite production team churns out which in it's most basic form will make every social anthropologist reach for the nearest pen to paper a theory. Exhibit A: Innocent girl from homeland that doesn't drink or engage in promiscuous sex or even dating. Cooks, cleans, prays. Exhibit B: A successful career woman (one assumes). Drinks. Dates. Heaven forbid, even occasionally gets laid. Exhibit C: The man. Beds Exhibit B but longs to marry Exhibit A. Did the movie really have to be set in London even? </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Did someone say regressive?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">And this is a movie set in 2012. Also the year where one eleventh grader, a girl, was publicly attacked by a mob of men when exiting a pub.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">These are the times. We seem to be a society that's largely been socially conditioned by murky margins. The outraged are real, but is their voice loud enough? Is their dissent weighty enough?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">The movie is a mere dot on the board. The bigger problem lies elsewhere. The place where declarations like "She must've asked for it!" are flippantly thrown around. Where every rape, abuse, molestation is watered down to "Did she provoke it?" or "She must've asked for it!" but, that's a whole other post now, isn't t?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Am a woman. And am worried.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: small;">** A Henry Kissinger quote.</span></div>
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Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-1907710687977114382012-04-10T23:59:00.000-05:002012-04-11T00:48:35.234-05:00An Excerpt Sometimes IS The Whole Story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The blues, man, the blues… the blooz! That aching' ol' heart disease and joker in the heartbreak pack, demon engine of rock, matrix of uber-amped Aerosmith, and the sould-sound of me, Steven Tyler, peripheral visionary of the tribe of Oh Yeah!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Now the blues is, was, and always has been the bitch's brew of the tormented soul. The fifth gospel of grits and groan, it starts with the first moan when Adam and Eve did the nasty thing and got eighty-sixed from the Garden of Eden.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">"Once upon a time…" "In the beginning was…" That's the way it starts off. Every story, gospel, history, chronicle, myth, legend, folktale, or old wives' tale blues riff begins with "Woke up this morning'…" The blues is soiled with muddy water, funky with Storyville whorehouse sweat and jizz, smoky from juke-joint canned heat, stained with hundred-proof rotgut and cheap cologne. It's so potent 'cause it's been in every low-down, get-down joint the world has ever seen.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Everybody sucks on someone's tit, and ours was the bitch's brew of the blues.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">- Steven Tyler, Does The Noise In My Head Bother You? A Rock 'N' Roll Memoir</span><br />
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</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-66880118506141641612012-02-21T00:30:00.000-06:002012-02-21T03:02:45.335-06:00Parched<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">In the quiet of the night, she lies in wait. For words to come to her, or her lover. It's all the same sometimes.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzlcuBHWmwJIVTvRCGL76ZBxEExJHEJUzsEyQclUJuvR2QDbyifwPB6YjQYXoTmG_d0WcoagjhEKk4ZunyWhsolBKYz5_RzcAAmfxl0BvuuYhaSthVugt_EjwW_i4w45n52wsbg/s1600/parched-latte+files.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvzlcuBHWmwJIVTvRCGL76ZBxEExJHEJUzsEyQclUJuvR2QDbyifwPB6YjQYXoTmG_d0WcoagjhEKk4ZunyWhsolBKYz5_RzcAAmfxl0BvuuYhaSthVugt_EjwW_i4w45n52wsbg/s400/parched-latte+files.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-84863566608876620502012-02-17T15:02:00.000-06:002012-02-17T15:02:17.784-06:00And Elsewhere, Mardi Gras.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT29mwzUsMnYKMc6o3DSGIYQjWSgUEXawvr1LdQiTo5okcu8Aope9mQi6zaUa-BYmjomlUTc5xuGc20Oz1Rc81WhTBS1Ql8tk7cG24Wmhs690OyFFAWBjWUu1bYKZgua4lUMKcMA/s1600/photo-6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT29mwzUsMnYKMc6o3DSGIYQjWSgUEXawvr1LdQiTo5okcu8Aope9mQi6zaUa-BYmjomlUTc5xuGc20Oz1Rc81WhTBS1Ql8tk7cG24Wmhs690OyFFAWBjWUu1bYKZgua4lUMKcMA/s400/photo-6.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Beginnings, endings and the in-betweens. The stories you can tell over coffee and beignets. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6dsJAF4DRwyyWMD9oSoOrI3rjv8jhTFWUC-IvaZuAMpH27vYwx0kQ_SdbUYVtxvPSDyi-k59PlmS_TLzgh0iz7yzukfSIGB5VQjMsr3ZHKFWCbCwFg1UxlywynOY9axC1yBuVw/s1600/photo-9.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr6dsJAF4DRwyyWMD9oSoOrI3rjv8jhTFWUC-IvaZuAMpH27vYwx0kQ_SdbUYVtxvPSDyi-k59PlmS_TLzgh0iz7yzukfSIGB5VQjMsr3ZHKFWCbCwFg1UxlywynOY9axC1yBuVw/s400/photo-9.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Abita Amber and blackened alligator. When in Louisiana... </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">“New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin.” said Mark Twain. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">An understatement if there ever was one.)</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeuhbB_718NoaF8w_kbnYj9gyOjuY4VaDsuGQ2mu_ZvY76kWduC01UjfYC0PMM6yQbPonWxXB5GCt_b762cheH1ugf8t6w47jKvHUvNZHkKtI1Qpxzfd00TLtArU447Q_o1bMAQ/s1600/photo-8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTeuhbB_718NoaF8w_kbnYj9gyOjuY4VaDsuGQ2mu_ZvY76kWduC01UjfYC0PMM6yQbPonWxXB5GCt_b762cheH1ugf8t6w47jKvHUvNZHkKtI1Qpxzfd00TLtArU447Q_o1bMAQ/s400/photo-8.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cajun martinis in The Big Easy. Spicy, perfect. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There's a song written about it somewhere, of that am certain.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">First comes booze, then come Blues.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And when you are finally ready to say Good Night, you know it was.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-40318611615940401352012-02-16T00:05:00.000-06:002012-02-16T03:10:23.177-06:00The Reluctant Romantic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Am just back from a trip to New Orleans and have Blues on my mind. But then, when do I not? </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.S: Has the nonsense of Valentine's been sufficiently put behind? Okay good, now take a listen.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">While I have you here, pour me a drink, will you?</span></div>
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</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-15912663974323117302012-01-07T04:00:00.000-06:002012-01-07T13:02:23.843-06:00It's only been a week and, am not putting away my party hat just yet.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Half-finished books. Pages filled with words half-formed. Tarts that once stood witness to flailing diets, their obituaries now written on discarded foil. Ashtrays that know once the night falls, they'll have company to keep.<br />
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Vows to say Love You more and make passionate declarations less, settle with the ice in the glass. Dusty scrapbooks and dustier images to resurrect. Along with rusty memories to only bite the dust. With scary, speedy efficiency.<br />
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Old ways, familiar patterns and white lies. Because in the end, it's all much too easy.<br />
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What Resolution? Here's to a garishly shiny, spanking new year. New Year!</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-35464260769635719492012-01-06T13:01:00.000-06:002012-01-07T13:02:09.785-06:00And you thought I was only Grey.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Who's afraid of a lil' color?!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLfdKD6yYK5AhS_Jqj9tO5tfLx0ylgeWVo-dDycMG9PSreMxSEzhdhP1ZDwPT9gUv4FT8aDdbEprNYvIP7_VvYR2C0acMr_dTGFPU1poy7FWxGy0WdoFlr48W1a_0_IktkhH1FLQ/s1600/19a35d18392f11e19896123138142014_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLfdKD6yYK5AhS_Jqj9tO5tfLx0ylgeWVo-dDycMG9PSreMxSEzhdhP1ZDwPT9gUv4FT8aDdbEprNYvIP7_VvYR2C0acMr_dTGFPU1poy7FWxGy0WdoFlr48W1a_0_IktkhH1FLQ/s400/19a35d18392f11e19896123138142014_7.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-1255099857621198452011-11-16T03:34:00.001-06:002011-11-16T03:42:01.103-06:00Layovers. And The Stiff Drink One Needs.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It was a tune he played often. Many times a day, and it always earned him the biggest tips.</div>
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She while racking up the miles and nursing a heartache, always looked forward to a delay. Hoping.</div>
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Between the coins in the tip-jar and loud announcements, it was easy to miss the star-crossed lovers. Forgiven even.</div>
</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-69322692880888090142011-11-02T16:19:00.001-05:002011-11-02T16:22:21.642-05:00Stop. Don't you see it's Red?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">It took my turning Thirty (gulp) to finally try 'red lips'. Try I did, and how. There's just been no looking back since.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Having always pined for a different time (you know I've always had a thing for Fifties-Sixties), I haven't exactly been immune to the allure, the charm of red lips, being that the women of the time sported the hue with just the right panache and studied nonchalance. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I love the coquettishness of it. The sexuality. That it can be gauche and vulgar. Sophisticated and timeless. That it means power and confidence. That it means being all Woman.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Not being one who was ever comfortable with too much attention (don't let my husband tell you otherwise), am certainly surprised how taken I am by the hue. Turning older definitely had something to do with it. Let's face it, we all turn into world-weary, world-wise women a lot sooner than what our parents ever gave us credit for. But the truth is, it took me all of three decades to become the woman I am today. And that woman sure isn't shy of red.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Forget the fact that it brightens up a dreary day or simply turns heads... The fact is, I like who I become when I wear it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Kiss. Kiss.</span></div>
</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-30263752562329277842011-10-27T00:36:00.000-05:002011-10-27T00:42:03.192-05:00Ply me with wine. But, romance me with words. Your words.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-F_WCeveWyHlho2OsUdvlVaoYpQ1Y7QHnrqqEgIT33E8wec3iP7RKo-sHJemIInVrZraojke4BvUpTDonPWCxMPviu7jiz1_I45f-D5A55sy9E24Wa9RdI8zVmfDH2BLi5iy3SA/s1600/murakami.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-F_WCeveWyHlho2OsUdvlVaoYpQ1Y7QHnrqqEgIT33E8wec3iP7RKo-sHJemIInVrZraojke4BvUpTDonPWCxMPviu7jiz1_I45f-D5A55sy9E24Wa9RdI8zVmfDH2BLi5iy3SA/s400/murakami.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-71325861825440408782011-10-12T01:58:00.000-05:002011-10-12T02:02:46.350-05:00Es un escándalo!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I love a good dinner party. The smokers outside, conspiracy hanging heavy in the air. The hum of conversation reaching a quiet crescendo inside. Glasses half-full begging for refills as stories are re-told. The stoic clinking of ice building the backdrop to climax. The food adding spice to the romance, the dessert sealing the deal. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ashtrays lie in wait, bearing witness to unfolding events. Discarded bottles ready to play enablers. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sheets that come tomorrow will wink back knowingly. </span></div>
</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-39853134501354608802011-10-10T23:58:00.000-05:002011-10-11T02:05:34.761-05:00You sigh a little. You drink a little.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-5386862107422938162011-10-07T01:28:00.000-05:002011-10-11T02:03:09.529-05:00I'll wait while you pour yourself a stiff one.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Weekends ought to be started off right, don't you think? </div>
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Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-38236840748779359632011-10-05T00:20:00.000-05:002011-10-05T00:20:25.873-05:00But hers was a study in modesty.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The smile began long before in her eyes</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">sanguinely making it's way downwards.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Fingers curled slightly in anticipation of</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the tingle she was to cause.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Drawing her shawl even closer</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">she knew to quickly look away.</span></div>
Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-46630274444459222622011-10-04T16:55:00.002-05:002011-10-04T17:06:29.846-05:00When I was gone, did you whistle a tune?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I've been a Bad Girl. Not in an exciting wink, wink way, just in a terribly lazy, been watching way too many Law and Order SVUs kinda way. I tell myself I need to blog, much like how I tell myself to stay off of Chocolate, but I seem to not make much headway with either. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">There's so much I want to say but sometimes words just take longer to come, if they ever do. Other times, Bravo happens. Hello, Real Housewives?!!</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">But I promise to be better. I'll even go and sharpen my pencils. Maybe even buy some new stationary... What, it'll only take a minute!</span></div>
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Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-75760054028051286162011-08-04T01:29:00.000-05:002011-10-11T02:03:38.666-05:00The Blues, they sing to me.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqEwXjgk_fn2JAj1oc_SYqE3XGMN-gAtZIh1HegpkSJpEoiDk34E7da8ybFRNGWccLT5-TPZ1p6WAUJfJGvnIbcspPNHatcroxf_V7CK8JaXI1n_CSCNLwk-UDUf4rhhyphenhyphenKZMtsg/s1600/lattefiles-celine-blues-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeqEwXjgk_fn2JAj1oc_SYqE3XGMN-gAtZIh1HegpkSJpEoiDk34E7da8ybFRNGWccLT5-TPZ1p6WAUJfJGvnIbcspPNHatcroxf_V7CK8JaXI1n_CSCNLwk-UDUf4rhhyphenhyphenKZMtsg/s640/lattefiles-celine-blues-4.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cue song? Okay. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 25px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>How Blue Can You Get</i>?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">William Christopher Handy: The blues - the sound of a sinner on revival day.</span></div>
Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-2912231730523358192011-07-28T03:27:00.000-05:002011-07-28T03:27:00.821-05:00“Close you eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself, there's no place like home.”<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_46sgEnsAxeEa41ARjvhJZGHAiaATvEc3gzpDtyTK-ftrOlxQ6HxNzkj6FW1fxVIqnCjwnfl0Vmg0xrTaXQIO05eqND2MfsKO0iJ8gJTm_pS3Y5c05nwsuuGM2efRr7GDjqwrQ/s1600/latte+files+blog-wizard+of+oz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq_46sgEnsAxeEa41ARjvhJZGHAiaATvEc3gzpDtyTK-ftrOlxQ6HxNzkj6FW1fxVIqnCjwnfl0Vmg0xrTaXQIO05eqND2MfsKO0iJ8gJTm_pS3Y5c05nwsuuGM2efRr7GDjqwrQ/s640/latte+files+blog-wizard+of+oz.jpg" width="640" /></a></div></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-7413917585477803112011-07-21T05:20:00.004-05:002011-07-21T05:23:04.870-05:00Happy Hour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Crossover episodes I'd like to see: Hollywood Squares and X-Files. Cheers and Law and Order SVU. Walker, Texas Ranger and Gossip Girl. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Walker, Texas Ranger and Gossip Girl. Yup, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I went there. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Walker and Waldorf... Epic.</span></div><br />
</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-20596256691553176842011-07-20T23:54:00.000-05:002011-07-21T05:07:50.959-05:00One mustn't lose their Muchness. Ever.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You used to be much more..."muchier." You've lost your muchness. " s</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ays the Mad Hatter to Alice.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.S: You want me to find another book to get obsessed with, don't you? I know what you are thinking!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">P.P.S: I must share with you this other obsession of mine... Murakami's After Dark. One of these days, I promise.</span></div></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-7389389719366775282011-07-16T17:06:00.002-05:002011-07-16T17:08:30.800-05:00Sometimes, the sharpest of angles and the straightest of lines, cast the softest of glows. Shadows by which, many stories are told.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilezydLr-CiDIa_KymfryCw49CjSnldFg2TF-g4NCuK1lC-lm3dF3yewO6Jx7h0V-q7LvgA9IXoPqHn2A3NNT6gH7X2LnDc_d3UrJ-uiHTr3GlKLt6y7eEcha2fWdyx4YmO7hSUQ/s1600/lattefiles+blog-lamp-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilezydLr-CiDIa_KymfryCw49CjSnldFg2TF-g4NCuK1lC-lm3dF3yewO6Jx7h0V-q7LvgA9IXoPqHn2A3NNT6gH7X2LnDc_d3UrJ-uiHTr3GlKLt6y7eEcha2fWdyx4YmO7hSUQ/s640/lattefiles+blog-lamp-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0PeKIXnJ7KdXucunuMo7DJ8B8MRKFJeTMIBay2xdoVetestEBKeqBH2RcLFezWtGnITjUM6Mirw0GF8kD8K1iGfSKj1tuaPe4kGm14_vAY-Y32rTMo8A77QVPALGZ3bYOlgPltA/s1600/lattefiles+blog-lamp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0PeKIXnJ7KdXucunuMo7DJ8B8MRKFJeTMIBay2xdoVetestEBKeqBH2RcLFezWtGnITjUM6Mirw0GF8kD8K1iGfSKj1tuaPe4kGm14_vAY-Y32rTMo8A77QVPALGZ3bYOlgPltA/s640/lattefiles+blog-lamp.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-71610148654458941622011-07-15T17:46:00.011-05:002011-08-04T01:39:07.406-05:00The hare-brained chatter of irresponsible frivolity.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Art, in all of it's forms, is an altogether funny thing.<br />
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I've had this painting for a while now... I love it for it's colors and the joy it seems to exude. I've always thought of it as fishes swimming upstream until a friend pointed out it's likeness to, well, you know. And, there's no getting past that. Did I then relegate it to some dark corner of my house? No sirrie, I promptly fell even more in love with it.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">People's reaction to this painting (that hangs in my house) is quite priceless... Most don't give it much thought beyond it's cheery colors. Some mortified, quickly look away. Others, after a start, smile. It (the painting) certainly makes me smile, I mean, how can it not? As for the Sperm dress (see below), I happen to love it. The dress reminds me of the painting and... Makes me, you guessed it, smile.<br />
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Oh, I do realize just about now I sound like a dithering idiot who goes about all of her day with a grin plastered on her face. Not so. Mostly. Er. No, not so.<br />
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P.S: The title, borrowed from Disraeli. Also, the words 'irresponsible frivolity' somehow make me think of tulle skirts, cotton candy and manicures. Don't ask.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial; font-size: x-small;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xsrwy_bi_juslzrv8vGlnO1ibnN4k_u0vUhtEnKO2JluR1gp_X1bhr4CBtja6hIGz2IRrjY6COkx4JWCMcqDKDlKse0TxPW0E_fSkYn1BsB6QFU4PZDHJq3N60P33Tf8aU3pPA/s1600/kallol+datta+sperm+print+dress-art-lattefiles+blog-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-xsrwy_bi_juslzrv8vGlnO1ibnN4k_u0vUhtEnKO2JluR1gp_X1bhr4CBtja6hIGz2IRrjY6COkx4JWCMcqDKDlKse0TxPW0E_fSkYn1BsB6QFU4PZDHJq3N60P33Tf8aU3pPA/s640/kallol+datta+sperm+print+dress-art-lattefiles+blog-1.jpg" width="404" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Kallol Datta Sperm Dress</div></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-76786050594271061422011-06-08T11:48:00.004-05:002011-06-08T12:52:31.195-05:00Satchmo is all kinds of Cool. End of a song, beginning of a story.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ELKNyDdNCbY?rel=0" width="480"></iframe><br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">(Yup, I recently watched High Society. Again. It had been a while since I saw it last and had forgotten just how much I love this movie. Bing, Sinatra and Armstrong. Grace Kelly too. So many reasons.)</div></div></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30672886.post-26268998820006168582011-06-07T19:00:00.003-05:002011-06-07T19:41:33.707-05:00You're being charming, reasonable and very boyish. Unless you've changed, that means you're about to drink someone's blood. Probably mine.**<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz2QwkTIWqCmO3q1hOAnOXifIYqvx02DtCnWnd_VGNl7bmjfXUmgtXQh1Ya_T-nQECYQUn0JnKM4GvrVuL6VhYZSz70EsYlEaFaNMLHh0ATp_mbIzyFOs-L4v8d76EozcU9z10gA/s1600/champagne+toast-latte+files+blog-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz2QwkTIWqCmO3q1hOAnOXifIYqvx02DtCnWnd_VGNl7bmjfXUmgtXQh1Ya_T-nQECYQUn0JnKM4GvrVuL6VhYZSz70EsYlEaFaNMLHh0ATp_mbIzyFOs-L4v8d76EozcU9z10gA/s640/champagne+toast-latte+files+blog-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_C9uhwmDCuC0AyLHp3-Dc9DxvK-taQbjtFz1QZ3NSvDDtYY6B46s5gYDCDNhyphenhyphenyWNPMwWwM7jeWWnb6PtXtvbkpuvQtSIFXFiTeaSqBs7hy4Ibc7bNZJXTjH8sNi27X10UKd0BNA/s1600/champagne+toast-latte+files+blog..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_C9uhwmDCuC0AyLHp3-Dc9DxvK-taQbjtFz1QZ3NSvDDtYY6B46s5gYDCDNhyphenhyphenyWNPMwWwM7jeWWnb6PtXtvbkpuvQtSIFXFiTeaSqBs7hy4Ibc7bNZJXTjH8sNi27X10UKd0BNA/s640/champagne+toast-latte+files+blog..jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Black-and-white movies. And bottled effervescence. I love it all with a bit of grey.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhka6PFd1kxSWk8_MeA-WN1WiqzJpsOf3V2s5plCLbkf6x-XR3-1FEgMS8DlSW4nBk2Do9Fs8EHwqHlLq0Ys622O-yb5udcIdlLpQvCFS5c4yW8N4lYMClrScbk4JWuV3i5iWqFRA/s1600/champagne+toast-latte+files+blog-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhka6PFd1kxSWk8_MeA-WN1WiqzJpsOf3V2s5plCLbkf6x-XR3-1FEgMS8DlSW4nBk2Do9Fs8EHwqHlLq0Ys622O-yb5udcIdlLpQvCFS5c4yW8N4lYMClrScbk4JWuV3i5iWqFRA/s640/champagne+toast-latte+files+blog-1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;">** The title's from the 1948 Bette Davis movie, June Bride. Love the movie. Love Bette.</span></div>Phttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04558049479312997467noreply@blogger.com3