This picture is for The Junky's Wife. I know, you can't tell, but that is my actual hand on an actual seat in an actual terminal of the Charlotte airport. Yes, there I was in the same city as the Junky's Wife! So, close, but separated by so many airport security personnel...
I am telling her I love her. (No, that thing I'm doing with my hand doesn't mean "longhorns" or "hang loose" or anything else.) According to an episode of Family Feud I once watched, which featured a deaf woman (who was no doubt playing an enormous joke on Richard Dawson), that sign combines the sign language letters I, L and Y, thus "I Love You." I'm sure that even if it does in fact mean "I love you" the fact that I'm doing it with my left hand probably makes it obscene in some cultures, but somehow that works too. I send my obscene love to you, Junky's Wife! I'm wearing my hippie thumb ring just for you. And I did that French manicure myself. All to look pretty for this picture.
Still, it was greatly disappointing to me that this photo of part of an airport terminal chair was the best I could do. I passed a wall painted with a map of the area and a big star in the middle labeled "Charlotte." That was where I wanted to photograph my hand, but I had three problems:
- I was rushing to catch a connecting flight.
- I was speeding past on one of those moving walkways and would have had to wait until the end of the walkway, get off and then walk back to get to the wall.
- I was feeling extremely ill, a feeling which persisted for the entire trip.
So, I took care of myself and missed the perfect shot: good for my own well being, bad for the Junky's Wife and my blog.
What a frickin bummer to be in the same city and not be able to connect. That would bum me out the door. I know how much you two are in love and all of that -- even though I've tried to break you up a few times.
Your hand looks lovely. I, of course, being the sorta-butch that I am, do NOT paint my finger nails (gasp), but I do love to gaze at a nice French manicure. They are lovely.
Nice hippy ring, hippy chick.
Peace,
Scout
ooohhhhh...french tips....I love french tips
I was just about to compliment the beauty of those French tips, and then, you say you did them yourself! I'm so interested in how you managed it that I'm not responding properly to the love-fest that's supposed to be your hand in my town.
Let's go on a date. I'll do my nails. I'll paint them black.
I have taken to wearing a thumb ring. It's so silly and hippy. It's a ring I bought when Vowels was here and we went to the mountains and went in this little hippy store. I sort of bought it for my husband, knowing that he'd never wear it. So now, I wear it on my thumb, and it's like I'm wearing his ring, as if we're in high school and he's a dreamy football player and I'm captain of the cheerleading squad. It's also about Vowels and how we went to the mountains in the car and sang. And, it's about you and how I'd never have stooped to such patchouli-soaked hippydom if you hadn't done it first.
It's funny you are posting a love fest today. I was just givin you some lovin at Cuntface.
Yeah!!! Charlotte!!!!
Your nails look great. I just have stubbs.
And yes JW is now wearing a hippy thumb ring. And when she was buying it she mentioned you.
It was my visit but she was lezzing out about you.