It seems the pressure of seeing the new girl want to absorb the entire contents of my head, combined with the fact that I can't post and/or comment as I really want, has taken its toll on whatever inspiration I might have had to begin with. What you see right now is an oh-so-lame attempt at filling blank space. So I thought, well, why not talk birthdays and anniversaries. Plenty of those around today.
Happy birthday, Tony. Heck of a present you got, too. We call that a cadeau empoisonné.
Happy anniversary, Jacques. 10 years this week-end. Wow. Who'd have thought, huh?
Happy anniversary, Jean-Pierre. 3 years in power, and all you got was free-falling ratings and a lousy tee-shirt.
Happy birthday, George. Yummy as ever.
And a really happy 60th, armistice. You've never looked so young.
In me-me-me news, I've been out every single night this week. I'm exhausted. I might have me a little nap later in the day.
Went to the cinema yesterday evening, to see De battre mon coeur s'est arrêté, apparently based on Fingers. 'Tis very good, even though I'm not a fan of Romain Duris.
And, on the way to the movies, I almost exposed way too much of me. Background picture. Yesterday, I met a friend in the afternoon. Wearing a flimsy skirt and flip-flops. It was kind of cold, so I decided to quickly go back home and get some proper shoes and a jacket before going to the picture. As I was waiting for the bus, I called one of the friends I was meeting to let them know I might be leetle late. She said it was fine, she was just out of her flat and she could pick me up with the scooter.
"Well, I'm wearing a skirt... D'you reckon I'd be all right?"
"You know, everything's OK with me. You can wear nothing but a thong if that's what makes you tick. Might be a little cold though."
My friends are this: aces.
(and yes, I did steal that line from the Duck)