Mum, I think it's a bit crunchier than your chocolate icing.
Speedway, bricks are living things. I love them, especially the wonderful tinkling sound they make when they clatter together.
Pea, this IS my Movember pic. Actually, I am trying for a Frank Zappa but because I'm old and white-haired now it looks more like I've been eating a doughnut and got sugar round my mouth. Hey ho.
You know how we supposedly have no "smell memory"? Well, I looked at this picture and recalled the warmth of bricks in the sun and the way the clay smells. Briefly, I could smell the red brick. And I like the squishy face it's made, too.
WV=wingi: where my little mind has gone - flying off on a wingy thingy.
I just got around to reading your anosmia post. I don't know about pheronomes other than I don't have 'em, but I do know how the unaware things that go on in childhood can influence one's decisions. One day I realized that the immediate attraction I had to some men was unfortunate - they were always alcoholics. While I was lucky to get away from them, I wondered why I persisted in that pattern until the day I realized that their initial smell was something that reminded me of sitting on my dad's lap when I was small. I felt secure there with my dad, who smelled of beer, wine and cigarettes. Somehow that smell was like sour baby milk. Right there, I learned to never trust that initial attraction. As a non-smoker from a family of smokers, not only do I find the smell offensive, being with a smoker makes be ill.
Boy, has that ever limited my choices in where I go, what I do and with whom. Anti-smoking legislation has helped a lot, but for many years I've not been to comedy clubs nor to the local blues emporium because of smoking.
You make me almost glad I can't smell things, Speedway. Women are always attracted to the wrong kind of man; it's not just you (though you have a good explanation for yours) but all of them. I base this of course entirely on the observation that none of them want to be with me. Hee hee.
Hoorah for anti-smoking legislation! I can't smell the stink but I can taste it and it lingers for days and ruins every other flavour. Blech!
12 comments:
Looks a bit like my chocolate icing on my sponge before I managed to get it smooth!
Ooh, cool, Dive! It looks as though it's living in the brick and is trying to emerge.
I'm sure there's a gnarly face in there somewhere but I'm struggling to see it.
No connection whatsoever, where are these Movember pics then??
Send it in to the tabloids and say you can see Jesus.
Has to be worth a go?
Mum, I think it's a bit crunchier than your chocolate icing.
Speedway, bricks are living things. I love them, especially the wonderful tinkling sound they make when they clatter together.
Pea, this IS my Movember pic.
Actually, I am trying for a Frank Zappa but because I'm old and white-haired now it looks more like I've been eating a doughnut and got sugar round my mouth. Hey ho.
Phil, I CAN see Jesus. Except not in this brick.
You know how we supposedly have no "smell memory"? Well, I looked at this picture and recalled the warmth of bricks in the sun and the way the clay smells. Briefly, I could smell the red brick. And I like the squishy face it's made, too.
WV=wingi: where my little mind has gone - flying off on a wingy thingy.
The designs remind me of some of the ancient cave paintings.
Very gnarly!
I see a kangaroo, a wild mustang and a lizard. Ooh! I just assigned "texture" to me kiddies.
I'm with Alifan. It looks like food.
Speedway, those of us who are anosmic have a really unfortunate smell memory. This sorry tale gives the sordid details.
Like the brick, I too have a squishy face.
Ms.M. It definitely has a personality all its own.
Don't Bogart that acid, Neetzy.
Careful of your teeth, Petrea. Brick biting makes dentists very happy.
I just got around to reading your anosmia post. I don't know about pheronomes other than I don't have 'em, but I do know how the unaware things that go on in childhood can influence one's decisions. One day I realized that the immediate attraction I had to some men was unfortunate - they were always alcoholics. While I was lucky to get away from them, I wondered why I persisted in that pattern until the day I realized that their initial smell was something that reminded me of sitting on my dad's lap when I was small. I felt secure there with my dad, who smelled of beer, wine and cigarettes. Somehow that smell was like sour baby milk. Right there, I learned to never trust that initial attraction. As a non-smoker from a family of smokers, not only do I find the smell offensive, being with a smoker makes be ill.
Boy, has that ever limited my choices in where I go, what I do and with whom. Anti-smoking legislation has helped a lot, but for many years I've not been to comedy clubs nor to the local blues emporium because of smoking.
You make me almost glad I can't smell things, Speedway.
Women are always attracted to the wrong kind of man; it's not just you (though you have a good explanation for yours) but all of them. I base this of course entirely on the observation that none of them want to be with me. Hee hee.
Hoorah for anti-smoking legislation! I can't smell the stink but I can taste it and it lingers for days and ruins every other flavour. Blech!
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