eyelashes, tp and gay bars

A few casual observations from the week gone by...

My baby has the longest eyelashes

 Nirvana? Oh, nevermind.

He also came home with his first certificate ever, today.

Dude. I'm so proud. I've stuck it on a wall in his room.

He gets his lashes from his father. But the eyes? They're all me. 

I heard the best acknowledgement and compliment last week

Last week I wrote a post giving those willing to listen some suggested ways in which to acknowledge my loss/my daughter.

Well, add this to the list: "Aw come on, don't be so hard on yourself about your weight, you're fine. You're a mother of two for godssake!'

Best. One. Ever. Nicely rolled together. Was music to my ears, and was said to me on a night in a gay bar in Soho.
Jeez, it's been a long time since I went to a gay bar in Soho. Years.

But on my night off, I went with my Favourite Gay Irish Friend to help him pick up some man meat over a few drinks.

(After we'd polished off some German sausages at Herman Ze German).

I had a few glasses of wine, which was enough encouragement for me to wave guys over who I thought would suit my Irish pal's tastes, and pinch their bottom if need be, to get their attention.

I've always been super aggressive confident like that.

Look, as a straight mother of two, I'm invisible in a gay bar ok. One needs to resort to drastic measures if one is to be a successful wingman for one's friend.

He got lucky, once I departed after my third glass of wine (and God did I feel rough the following day), but goes to show: if you want to come right in a gay bar, get a straight, married, motherly female to be your wingman.

Oh, and pay her the best compliment(s) ever and she'll eat out of your hand. Or just about.
Thank you, Irish.

Twin Peaks just gets better and better the more you watch it

That's why cult series' are cult series. I'm a Peakie. Yes, even that word and everything.

We've bought the newly HD'ed version of the series, now that winter is upon us, we cracked it open, from it's new box.

It's just marvellous. The music, the eeriness, how every character is completely fucked up and eccentric, the scenery and setting, you can almost smell the Douglas fir trees.

I'm absolutely dying to go to Washington state (where it was filmed) one day and drive around, eating cherry pie and visiting some of the places it was filmed. Yes, again, I'm one of those people. It's embarrassing; but I honestly have zero fucks to give.

Once again, absorbed into the freaky world of TP.