Friday Night Boredom [for charloft]

List five things that you would do when bored. For charloft

1. Rip the blood from my enemy's body(ies) and blame it on the blood "god", Deacon Frost. Somehow I doubt that he will mind, not that I intend on asking.
2. Watch Aidan become very cross when I tease him about never finding the true name of some demon he has delusions about binding one day. Inform him that he will stop his silly pursuit in order to show or teach me something useful.
3. See that annoying couple there? Yes, them, right there along the Sienne. He is down on his knee proposing to his girlfriend. He's on my menu. She will later discover his body. But she can live.
4. Hone my skills.
5. Use Marc's credit card to go shopping on Avenue Montaigne and make absolutely certain that there is not one franc, pardonnez-moi, euro left on it in the end. Convince him that being the most a la mode woman is part of my 'job description' and watch that bastard stew in anger before he resigns himself to my whims. After all, what is money to him? He spent much more as my patron when there was still breath in my lungs.

Sing Edith Piaf's Sous Le Ciel de Paris as HORRENDOUSLY as possible while locked in a room with a Toreador. Gesture dramatically during the song and tell them that it is an interpretative dance. Watch them try to end themselves.

If possible, learn of Isabel Giovanni's plot to quell her boredom by raising zombies to pester the Garou and then either give the Garou a clue to who did it and watch them go after the Giovanni or brood over the fact that I did not think of something like that first and, thus, remain bored and in a foul mood. Ces't la vie.

Regards,

Artistic Differences (Tag: ladyanguissette)

Paris, France
Centre national d'art et de culture Georges Pompidou
Modern times with ladyanguissette 

Catherine de Volages tilted her head to the side, forcing some of the dark chocolate ringlets craftily piled on top of her head to spill down the left side of her face.

So this is what is passing for art these days. The acidic thoughts bounced around in her head as she sighed, feeling the necessity to fake having to drawn in breath in order to manifest her displeasure. If only she had gone to the Musée d'Orsay to view the exhibition on Probable and Improbable Paris: Architectural Drawings of the 19th century. Although her sharp mind could recall nearly every innovation, as it, indeed, enraptured both mortal and Kindred alike, she would rather spend her evening walking among real art instead of this heathen example of horse shite coloured paint smeared thickly on a white canvas. This thing masqueraded around as art so flagrantly, so brazen in its injustice, that Catherine was forced to ripe her eyes away before she accidentally set it on fire with only her glare, thus succeeding in ripping away her own masquerade. If only she actually had that ability to drew fire from her hands.

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