Today I have a ribbon in my hair.

If you didn't know, and I have to assume that you do not, that means that I got a present today. When I was little and I got a present with a ribbon or a bow, my sister would put it in my hair or duct tape the bow to my shirt. Yes, duct tape. She did not want me to lose it.

So these days I still do it, but only with nice ribbons.

I got presents yesterday, and one today. Wanna know why? no reason.

Today Bianca's sidekick gifted me with our favorite lip gloss because she found it somewhere. And wrapped it in copier paper... it's pretty cute.

Yesterday I got the most wonderful package from Lemon. A pen with a silver tiger head from an unique jewelry shop in New Orleans, as a compliment to a beautiful Italian leather journal with a Fleur DE Lis (literally flower of the lily) from an even more exclusive stationary shop. I don't know what to say and thank you just seems to fall a bit short.

They are both nicer than I would ever buy for myself. The pen is heavier than I use and I would say heavier than I would ever use, but on the pages of the journal, it flows nicely. I am glad they've opened one such store here so that refills will be readily available.

I like presents. I especially love these. I wonder if I deserve them and what expectation they carry with them. Lemon adamantly says none. He got upset that I did not take the drive to come see him last night (will post awesome Mexican food with him on Tuesday in a bit) because I was not studying. It was a mini-freak out. He says he has that under control. ick.

Bama is a regular in circuit training again. Now in my heat every time. He butts into every conversation, it's funny. Friday I was gifted with an awesome candle from my Mexican (the "dog" in my heat... I am the Tiger. Little bit is the Mouse, and the fat girl that shrieks is the cat). Bama followed me around like a 6 year old asking who it was from. It is most funny because a mutual friend of ours sent me an excerpt from a book I now own (dunno if I have the balls to post which book or what context) that described his "type" perfectly.

In fact he was listed as "Mr. Perfect". Perfect in manners, charisma, polite, and seemingly considerate. Old women love him- he is the quintessential "nice guy". But his conversation lacks substance, as an 'interest' you are left with a feeling that something is lacking, which you think is crazy because everyone tells you how lucky you are that he likes you because he is perfect. His time and attention spent on you is merely a mirror for him and a reflection of himself. He is the guy who will go down on you for hours and you will be amazingly shocked to discover that he is impotent.

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