. . . I’m taking a short break. Been busy, been dealing with things and I’m frankly knackered, as I’m sure many of you lot are . . . I’ll be back quite soon!
(Rather Obvious Hint: Look for a New Year’s post 
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In the meantime, I do hope the holiday season has treated all of you well. Thank you so much for being here for WWW’s first year online, and to those who have stuck with me this long . . . There is more to come! See you in 2012, and take care, my petals.
Ideal time for an inbetweener because, shall we face it, it is Christmas week-end and there’s not a man jack of you reading this anyway 
With that said, HAPPY HOLIDAYS, love F.
. . . With that said with that said, it is ALWAYS time for Baudelaire. Mais oui.
Eeesh. Time crunch. Had less than a day to pump this one out . . . And suffice it to say, I realised partway through that I was trying to eat the elephant in one bite when I said ‘SURE I CAN FIT IT ALL ON ONE PAGE TRA LA LA.’
It was a good workday, nonetheless, avec le Carlea, much tea, Chinese food and IAMX. Yesterday was also a sublime one, with my K., chocolate, pez, singing, red and yellow colourschemes and MORE. I have said it before and I shall say it again (for with repetition, there is emphasis); Life is Good.
P.S. Also added a load of oldstuffs to the Gallery. It was about bloody TIME.
True story.
And yes, that is a (decidedly doctored) photograph . . . By the bye, YOU WILL ALL BOW BEFORE THE BEAUTEOUS ARTWORK WITHIN THAT NOTEBOOK. I sat my wingman, Carlea down with a box of crayons and a spiral-bound and let her have at it. Just try to tell me the results are not gorgeous. You can’t, can you? No, darling, you can’t.
Cheers, Carlea! You rule so very, very hard.
. . . In other news, I am grouchy, yet again. I feel like this page did not come out at all like I had hoped (aside from Carlea’s masterpeice), and I spent far too much time on it. I am so behind on bloody everything! And work was an utter upended picnic basket of hell, yesterday . . . I miss coworker April. There is a picture floating round online which describes her perfectly; It is a macro of Glinda the Good Witch smiling serenely with her hands help aloft (wand in one), and the text bit reads, “OKAY, EVERYONE, CHILL THE FUCK OUT. I GOT THIS.”
. . . April, if you’re reading this, rest assured that you are missed, and the absence of your world-mother voice of Glindaness is profoundly felt.
OKAY. Gonna watch another documentary on Ancient Rome, then listen to Faust (opera) as I clean the flat, and look forward to seeing my K., tomorrow. HURRAH! \o/
I think Simon and Ursula would shudder to see what I used to do with pizza . . . Deep fried with scrambled egg and Doritos on top. DAMN. DELICIOUS. Happiest heart attack you will ever have, say I. Suffice it to say, R. would wholeheartedly and eagerly approve. With gusto.
Not much to report. Been reading poetry alongside the fab and marvo Oscar Wilde book. . . Ah, j’adore bien les poemes de Beaudelaire, mais je peux lire seulement un ou deux de temps en temps, parce-que son travail est tres inquietant et sombre . . . Je le lis, et je crie, “Quel dommage! Je n’ai connaissais jamais que le monde serais un place de tellement peur et noir et tristresse! D’accord, les sanglots et les larmes sont le futur! Je cacherais sous mon bureau, maintenant . . .”
. . . I like to read them at work, during my lunchbreak, you see. Hence, le bureau.
Ah, another day. Behold the enthusiasm with which I pack my lunch!
. . . Sorry it’s a bit later than usual. Had quite a full day of hunting down accounts, listening to people whinge about lightbulbs, finishing birthday cards, counting lightbulbs, doing deceptively complex maths, stuffing my gob, demonstrating the performance of special, flicker lightbulbs . . .
My filament’s bust. Gonna go peter out, now.
. . . Long day culminating in a supper of hot chocolate and pringles with Dvorak as my backdrop. I win at life.
Happy Friday, petals. I post this;
Anyone who hasn’t seen Ugly Vampire yet . . . What sort of silly rock have you set up shop under? Go look. The art is droolingly brilliant. I would get my left bumcheek to be able to colour and balance a page like Sully does. Her colours are so vibrant, her layouts and design sense innovative and ingenious . . . Angh, just go now, will you?!
Not much to report from F.-land save that I have had some wonderful reading material as of late. My darling K. was kind enough to not only procure some utterly ace mittens to keep my poor, skinny fingers warm, but she found a copy of Frank Harris’s Oscar Wilde for me to read (first published under the title Oscar Wilde; His Life and Confessions). It is simply gorgeous so far . . . even heartbreaking in places, and I haven’t even gone past Oscar’s time in school . . . Who knows. I may actually cry over this if I don’t take care.
Also, I have been reading Napoleon’s letters to his wife, Josephine recently. My God, the man has to have had the most hilarious case of ADD . . . His letters, steamy as they are, tend to read rather along these lines; “Oh wife of mine, you are adorable. I love you so. You’re a vindictive little bitch, not writing to me, making me wonder about you like this. The armies are advancing nicely, and everyone seems to like me a lot. My brother wants to marry this chick, but I don’t want him to, so please tell him I said as much. You must be terribly busy to not have written me in so long whereas I have sent you so many letters. We’re sending some ships out to someplace or another, but, you don’t care about that. How I long to be in your arms, where I may rest my weary head upon your bosom till dawn . . . Kick me in the nadgers, it’ll hurt less than your failure to write to me. XOXOXO -B.”
And lastly . . . Is my colouring getting better? I think it might be . . . I hope so anyway . . . If it is I probably owe it to that wonderful Bizet piece I can never remember the name of coming on the radio today as I was working. Fabbity 