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Prince of the Apocalypse, ver. Remix
Sasha Blaze
A fun but not especially looterrific morning was had by Etienne, me, and a non-resin friend at the Topeka doll show. Etienne got enough admiration and cries of Oh, is that one of those--those--what do you call them? From Japan? Shirley, come and look at this doll! to turn his head for good. (Even though we were asked once whether he was Harry Potter, and twice whether he was a girl.) Only one person took down his jeans to see his (rather underwhelming, I admit) equipment, but she had special permission.

The haul: a vintage wine goblet and a pair of tan ribbed socks, Hound size; an Eliza Doolittle hat, Sia size; and an Indian buffet lunch, human size.

When we came home, there was a package waiting in the mailbox:

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Heh. Oh, he's thinking about evil things . . . lookit the way he has it wound around his hand . . .

I admit that I can't quite figure out what the chain is (officially) supposed to be doing. I hooked it to the belt-loop-thingies on the leather ponytail band, which made as much sense as anything else, but--some experimentation is in order. What a hardship. ;)

I *so* have to combine the silver Leeke glasses I just got with this wig. And the body harness that I just ordered. Yargh. I may have to flock that post, to protect my innocent non-BJD friends who wander by to see what I'm photographing now.

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