Not overly original observations on various topics

I remember reading camillo1978 's fabulous As Good As Gold and going squeeee at her -- I suppose it is hers -- theory re. one's pulling power being indirectly proportional to the state of perfection (or lack thereof) of one's body. Because that's exactly what 've been experiencing over and over again. You're perfectly shaved/epilated, scrubbed, mani- and pedicured, wearing sexy underwear etc., and chances are you won't get lucky. If, on the other hand, your feet or bikini line aren't exactly in a state which you'd care to show to that gorgeous guy, you may be reasonably sure that steamy sex isn't too far away. (Having your period helps, too, by the way)
So the important thing before a hopefully-hot date is to determine, very carefully, 1) which imperfections you can live with, and 2) which of these won't have an adverse effect on the guy (think not-perfectly-pedicured feet and foot fetishist).
All this is, of course, to be taken with a rather large grain of salt, but on the whole it's a very sound theory.
Fortunately I have Cornelius. His fondness for kneading my belly and/or thighs, standing on the back of the couch with his hind legs, guarantees that the upper part of my right thigh usually looks as if I was having an abusive relationship with a rosebush. Belly isn't scratched, because there are three layers -- shirt, pants and knickers -- protecting it, but on the thighs there's just the pants, and so his feline affection leaves its traces.
So I won't need to get overly obsessive imperfection-wise as far as tomorrow's dinner date is concerned. (*Is* it a date? Or is it just work related? I wish I knew...) Because there's also my still-not-so-perfect belly. That ought to do the job, in my opinion. *iz fretting*

This is one of the less intelligent things you can do: buy mascara, new one exactly identical to old one. Take new one out of box, open. Take old one, open. And then be unable to tell them apart. Well, I'll be able to determine which is which once I use them. But I'd wanted to throw away the old one...

A pair of jeans bit me in the arse yesterday. More correctly, when I took it off after trying it on, the edge of the price tag left a long, red scratch on my bum. It makes sitting slightly uncomfortable, but in the light of my contemplations re. imperfections I take a nasty red scratch on my bum as a positive sign and thus with equanimity. Jeans fit, but I didn't like the cut -- carrot-shaped trousers aren't what I ought to wear. Can't think of one single reason why they came back into fashion, because they don't really look good on anybody except a scrawny 14-year-old. But I got two very nice summer tops. In another shop, I got two more tops and two light summer dresses, but will have to give those back, because the high waist just isn't for me. Way too girly. But I still have the receipt, and the various tags havent been removed, so that ought to be ok.
Oh, and I got a third pair of glasses! Dark red, metal frame, very, very nice. They'll be ready on Tuesday.

My calf muscles aren't very happy with the amount of running I've been doing in the last two days. So today there will just be home sports, also because it's raining.
My pink-nosed dog friend accompanied us (i.e. Irene and me) yesterday when we went running. Like the clucky, old mother hens we are, first we got completely stressed by the dog being there on the street with us. But then it became clear that in spite of her youth, the dog is street-wise and knows exactly how to behave. So we gave up our attempts at shooing her back home and just let her come with us. She was exceedingly happy when I started running after we'd reached the Vodno's middle height and the side street which is ideal for running.
Pink-nosed dog is a girl, BTW. Funny how language determines one's preconceptions. "Dog" is male in German, whereas "cat" is female. So I tend to assume every dog is a boy, and every cat is a girl, until I have a closer look at them. When we came back, Irene kept the dog occupied while I sprinted up to my flat to fetch the chicken meat and dog food I'd intended to give her (to the dog, not Irene). Dog was again very happy and left nice pawprints all over my black running pants.

Going to prepare another mug of tea now. Later on, pedicure (*snort*) and step aerobic, although I'm not sure yet in which order. Looks like a nice, quiet Sunday.
Tomorrow -- holiday -- lunch at my Swiss colleague's place. There'll be raclette, so I guess I'll do some running in the morning, because otherwise I'm unable to eat aything heavier than a salad for lunch. And tomorrow evening... Late dinner, at 9 p.m. Hopefuly not just dinner. Keep your fingers crossed!