Lethal Dose

Remember, today is like cash!

*Thanks to April Winchell’s fabulous collection for this gem. I try and listen to it every day!

I’ve sort of been following the Bruni-Sarkozy story - why not? I always liked Carla as a model, because she was outspoken, and being rich, she did it for fun. Then she quit to make records. And they weren’t embarrassing either. So when she married Sarkozy I figured it had to be for love … he’s 5 inches shorter, she doesn’t need the money or fame, and knew she’d be the target of ridicule. Talk about rising to the occasion! Thank the spirit of Grace Kelly that we finally have a new, gorgeous fashion icon. It gives me hope.

From the Telegraph:

In dressing for her arrival at Heathrow, Carla Bruni-Sarkozy, former folk singer and now First Lady of France, demonstrated a political savvy which belied her brief tenure on the country’s fashion throne. Her dress code for the start of the state visit could not have been a better chosen example of entente cordiale at its most diplomatic and stylish.

From “tête to toes”, her ensemble bore the marque of Christian Dior, one of the most revered names in French fashion.

But it was designed by an Englishman, John Galliano, who recently marked his tenth anniversary as the couturier-in-residence at the famous maison on Paris’s Avenue Montaigne.

The outfit comprised a high-waisted coat in Dior grey – the colour most associated with the fashion house, originally founded in 1946 by M. Christian Dior.

It was accessorised with a matching beret, slightly tilted to one side to show Mme Sarkozy’s signature demi-fringe.

The coat was cinched with a wide, black leather belt, which emphasized her slim figure, once such a feature on the catwalks of the likes of Yves Saint Laurent, Chanel, Christian Lacroix and Versace, in the 1990s when she was one of the world’s highest-paid models.

Mme Sarkozy deliberately chose flat, black leather ballet pumps to detract from the height differential between her statuesque 5ft 9in and her husband’s 5ft 5in, and carried - in black, leather-gloved hands - the latest entrant from the Dior ‘accessory stable’, a shiny black leather handbag, called The Babe.

Well, y’know, I’ve got a soft spot for the Irish (hey! no one ever cuts us a break) so …

Hi Donna -
I wanted to see if you would post the attached Bell X1 mp3 to your blog, if you’re into it.

I heard a story from the band the other day. So apparently their tour bus, which used to belong to Tim McGraw, caught fire on their way out of Boston over St. Patrick’s Day weekend. (Yeah, I know, luck of the Irish and all.) Everyone was okay and they managed to get all their gear out to safety but the bus no longer exists. Anyway, they went on to play two incredible nights at NYC’s Bowery Ballroom.

Damn! I’m trying to upload “My First Born for a Song” but it’s not happening - (sadly, wordpress is not easy when it comes to mp3 uploads - ?) so go check out their myspace for lots of other cool songs (like “Bad Skin Day” or “Tongue”).

Mark and I have been on a MGame kick about Eva’s horrible misspellings:

but this clip takes the cake: “A Day in the Life of Green Acres”

This sums up perfectly my terror of the Easter Bunny.

Yesterday my friend and I took a little walk on the wild side for signage (photos coming.) On the way, we stopped for pepper spray for me, first aid supplies for her (she’s a red cross volunteer), finished off by cupcakes across the street from a casket company (!) … now today, I’m paying for it. Why? I forgot my friend is a diabetic (which is why I’m not outing her.) After collapsing in a fit of sugar giggles while photographing the “no smoking within 20 feet of the entrance!” signs on the door of the casket company and trying to track down the origin of a squawking parrot in a church bell tower, we reminisced about childhood beating instruments (her mother: a blue avon hairbrush; mine: a yardstick that said “QUIRK” in blue ink - fitting, eh?)

Driving to work this morning the “aura” came on … no, not ghosts, silly, but the migraine aura, the likes of which I’ve never felt before. My skin began to crawl, I got odd chills and that familiar pain in my head, this time in an almost vertical line down my forehead. I’ve been keeping a small bag of dog food in my car for a homeless woman and her pup who beg underneath a bridge I pass every day on the way to work. She seems to alternate shifts with an angrier, drunken man and I haven’t seen her for awhile. Today she came to my car and I handed her the dog food.

“It’s food for your dog.”
“Oh. I thought it was for ME!”
I noticed her hands were covered with silver jewelry - some of it nice.
“Got any water?”
I handed her a bottle and she walked off.

When I got to work I dropped a bag of frozen bagels all over the floor in the kitchen and gave up trying to make some toast. Now I’m at my desk, so nauseous I’m afraid to move lest I puke in my wastebasket. My sweet coworker had left me a chocolate bunny as a gift, but she didn’t know that I’m scared of giant bunnies so I had to put it back on her desk facing the other way.