Friday, September 16, 2011

Eyes as bright as sapphires and as poor as pennies.

As regular readers will know, sometimes words in my mind get up to all kinds of tricks, seemingly independent of what I want or will or wish. It's like they stealthily rampaged the inside of my skull, Lord of the Flies style, and they ain't giving it back. As a result, whenever I want to use the word 'obsessed', my mind's voice reiterates it "'ob-sessed.'" And then repeats it, with a twist for good measure. "'Robsessed.'"

Yes. It does.

It's extremely unfortunate, especially as my loathing for the entire Twilight franchise (let's just call the whole joblot a franchise, shall we, and have done with?) is thorough and sure, even though I rarely give it a second thought. And yet, that cheeky nod to the more hysterical end of pop culture is seemingly here to stay.

Accepting the cringeworthy and mystifying inevitable, I admit that I am obsessed (ob-sessed. Robsessed.) with jewellery at the moment. But not just any jewellery- colourful, Swarovski-chained, load-'em-up jewellery that would drag me down to the depths of Sydney Harbour should I ever suffer the misfortune of being shoved off a ferry by a rabid Twilight fan.

Obviously, there is a little trash-fiend inside me saying 'more is more' and when I come across swagger like this, I am helpless to obey it's glittering siren call.

I give you Fenton!

I give you Tom Binns!

All I can do about this bloodlust for now is breathe heavily over the computer screen and hanker. And plot DIYs that will probably never happen because I am time poor and usually lose interest halfway through braiding and clipping the thing together. It's sorry state of affairs all around.

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