Thank you for the introduction!
I would like to express my gratitude to those millions of Lebanese over the world.
When you finally tell a woman that you're Lebanese and she goes: "oh don't worry, you're not my first Lebanese!", while biting her lip, because good memories are suddenly flooding back through her body.
Thank you for making the word Lebanese synonymous to good food and also good lover!
For long, I ignored that side of me. I'm discovering that many ladies who tried Lebanese are always asking for more. And I'm not talking about the food.
I'm discovering, from talking to various nationalities, that "Lebanese lover" is almost like a "German car": while being so sturdy, it's your guarantee for a sheer riding pleasure!
Thank you guys, for making the solid cedar wood of Lebanon so famous internationally, for its beauty and resistance.
Thank you for working hard hours, for our branding on the international market, for making the cedar wood so obviously irresistible.
While wearing @bois1920 Relativamente Rosso, I was struck by how much I like—and how much it’s of a different person, place, and time in my scent-ducation. It’s got a burst of incense-spiced rose to its boozy cola opening that casts it the same color as Cherry Coke: a deep, resinous brown with a transparent shellack of red that’s—as the tin says—relative. It’s then smoky, then a dark patchouli gradually softened into a blend vanilla, amber, vetiver, and woods. It’s v. attractive, though I’d prefer it a bit smoother as there’s a confused lumpiness to the drydown, like one of those modern sculptures you realize you’ve no idea which way’s up once you take it home.
Still, it lasts forever on my skin and hangs nicely in the air, both lovely things to find out as I hadn’t smelled it since @minatelier was changing their stock and put it on an irresistibly deep discount two winters ago. Back then, I was fresh in my obsession and eager to try—and buy—anything. Even now, my taste in perfumes is the rare arena where I’m truly versatile; still, those were most indiscriminate times, so I wonder if I’d still be the sort who’d buy this today.
After all, as in the world of dating, there are different kinds of perfume fiends: Swans, who mate for life until discontinuation strikes, backstock dries up, and all that’s left is ceaselessly caterwauling on message boards like a Sicilian widow; Serial Monogamists, who move from one scent to the next, consistently satisfied until one day [snaps fingers] they’re not; Polygamists, who curate an interchangeable stable to meet each seasonal affection and particular perfume peccadillo, hungry for the amuse bouche of familiarity but not the full meal we call commitment; and Insatiable Trollops, whose only limit in taste is “More”, which means you’ll find them catching more juice than B.B. SpelunkMe dressed as Slutty Pikachu at Dore Alley.
We all know who I am, but which one are you!
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⚒Challenge: Remove Hardie Backer glued and gun-nailed by someone who I think was using a nailer for the first time. There were more nails in this floor than at Home Depot—a ring shank 8d every 3-inches or less. ••
Breaker bars of all sorts—fail
Bosch Bulldog with 2-inch spade iron—bring the thunder. ••
We had an older corded model and my newer 18-volt model. The corded worked. The cordless was mighty. ••