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Occupation: Girl

Please close the door and switch on the fun without fail.

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galadriel doll
cleolinda
So, ice skating. I came out of the final night with an immense respect for both Emily Hughes and Sasha Cohen for continuing to fight and sell even after falling down (Cohen, particularly, because she biffed her first two jumps but it didn't kill her spirit; Hughes, particularly, for having so much spark and showmanship and recovering so quickly at such a young age). These two were particularly impressive after watching some of the early competitors skate limp programs, some of which were lifeless from the word go, but others you saw die on the vine right in front of you after a bad mistake. I feel bad saying it, but Miki Ando was just painful to watch. Meanwhile, Shizuka Arakawa was gorgeous and strong, and I think she fully deserved the gold, but at the same time, I drew more inspiration from Hughes and Cohen. I mean, I fuck up a lot. Not in the sense that I fall on my ass a lot, although it has been known to happen--it's more in the sense of missing a deadline, missing an opportunity, losing a contest, getting a rejection, and it's the guilt from one disappointment that keeps pulling me down to a second, and a third, and a fourth. Anyone who can go out there, fall down, and jump back up and immediately go into a flourish and grin--anyone who can START her program by falling on her ass TWICE but stay on that horse and ride it home to a silver medal--is okay by me.

(sunshine95: "Johnny Weir is also apparently obsessed with Russia...and Christina Aguilera. Yeah, I don't know either.")

(Tonight: Champions gala, whee!)

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dailydigestnews: The new Spider-Man 3 teaser poster; Supergirl?; Cary Elwes gets a TV pilot; Philip Seymour Hoffman obligated to bark Oscar speech? (Note: since I'm now doing 2-3 entries a day, friending that journal, if you're interested in it, may be a good idea.)


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(no subject)
galadriel scan
cleolinda

I burned my mouth on frozen pizza (well, previously-frozen now-substantially-unfrozen pizza), and now I am a sad panda.

Print images directly onto flower petals?

Hidden Passageway will build--you guessed it--into your house. "That's amazing, you say! But I bet it costs a fortune! ...Nay, say I. They sell DIY kits you can put together yourself starting at $1500." Everyone agrees that it would be much cooler to keep this on the downlow, even as they post it to their blogs. I'm just saying.

(Personally, I would love one. But there's a slight problem: yeah, building the mechanism and passageway is the difficult part. But once you've got it... where does it go to? What I'm saying is, this is only really useful if you've already got a secret room somewhere, or a room you can now close off and hide. Otherwise it's just, "Oh look, this bookcase in the hall! This happens to be the only way to get into my bedroom now.")

Sheryl Crow Treated for Breast Cancer.

The Katrina New Yorker cover that got pushed off by the "more topical" Cheney/Brokeback Mountain cover. Via A Bear in the City.

Sex Pistols Flip Off Rock Hall of Fame ("Next to the sex Pistols, rock and roll and that hall of fame is a piss stain. Your museum. Urine in wine. We're not coming. Were [sic] not your monkey and so what?"). And wouldn't you be disappointed if they didn't?

How Salon has changed, and why Charles Taylor was fired.

Winona Ryder and Asia Argento knew from the start that J.T. Leroy was a fake. The NY Post link's time-sensitive, so the text is reposted below:

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