I had a dream last night that I was sharing my love of Nina Simone with Oprah. We started to talk about all the great blues and jazz singers. I got so excited I actually woke myself up.
Today is a good day.
Mr. Wolf still smells like you, Carlton. Though I think I am going to send him back to you every two weeks so it doesn't fade.
In other news. I am not dead.
97. TEN things you cannot stand about your partner
10. How he always gets up and walks out in the middle of an argument.
09. He sometimes chews with his mouth open.
08. Cranky in the morning.
07. Elliot never, ever minds his own business.
06. Once his mind is made up about something, that’s it.
05. He sings along to the radio. Loudly.
04. Even though something is wrong, he won’t say it. He sulks like a little kid.
03. He use to wear awful plaid ties, and bad suits. Thankfully, he’s gotten better at that.
02. Unless specifically stated he always gets to play bad cop. Not fair.
01. I hate that he can look at me and see right through me.
As much as they annoy me, they make him an excellent cop.
101. TEN things about my mother.
01. She was an alcoholic.
02. She died falling down subway stairs as a result of being a drunk.
03. She was a teacher.
04. She was a survivor.
05. Sometimes, in the morning she made the best breakfast in order to get over her hangover.
06. She made sure I never went without material things.
07. She was angry at everyone and every thing.
08. She was violent and abusive
09. She hated that I was a sex cop.
10. At night, when I was scared, she would let me curl up with her in bed.
[ooc note: No Carlton's were hurt in the making of this prompt. Though if it gets any more sweet someone might get diabeties.]
Olivia, by nature was not a very open and sentimental person. She was reserved and cautious when it came to matters of the heart. Long ago she had learned to keep her expectations low and her personal life private. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of the men she dated (though some, she refused to acknowledge as boyfriends) it was just safer this way. There was very little chance that she would get hurt that way, it was a matter of self preservation.
They had fallen into a semi routine, he would go out running in the morning, come back and take a shower before he dressed for work. When he ran she would get the coffee on, and then go back to bed, ready to tease him and tempt him to come back to bed. She never truly got him back to bed. They certainly kissed and fooled around a bit before he would break away, whispering breathlessly that if he didn't leave now that he would be late. Groaning, she would give him a pouting look, trying to make him feel as bad as possible before he disappeared out of the room and out of the house.
No matter how many times I tell myself, I never, ever heed my own warning. I am too old for this shit. Now, where am I?
But yes, AC/DC you are now on my shit list.
I miss you, Carlton.
Due to circumstances outside of my control, I will have very limited access to the internet next week. I will be around tonight, but after that, it just depends on if the kidnappers actually let me out of my cage.
But have no fear! In the immortal words of Douglas MacArthur: "I shall return."
During my absence just assume that Liv is going about her regular routine, which should only really effect Sam. Anyway, any questions, comments, criticisms, please leave them in this post.
Hopefully, while I am being water boarded, and being shocked and prodded, everyone will have a wonderful, relaxing week.
But, I'm not. I feel like an old Muddy Waters recording, slow guitar, singin' the same old song, over and over. A classic, but, c'mon now.
I be's troubled, I be all worried in mind, Yeah and I'm never bein' satisfied, And I just can't keep from cryin'
We all know no white girl can sing the blues, just ain't got it in our soul. Might not be able to sing it, but we can relate.
So while Muddy Waters is troubled, and Big Bill can't make me satisfied, I wonder what the fuck to do with my hair. I like putting things into perspective.
I need my coffee.
"Yes, Mashed Potatoes started long time ago. But it came not ex nihilo. And in the end, it doesn't mean a damn. Just turn the volume up, and if whoever's making the noise knows that so-called creativity ain't got shit to do with power or beauty, you'll feel that gust from that unknown place; and that gust, as Deacon Jones said, shall set you free." -- Where the Dead voices Gather