If he asks you am I running, tell him I'm flying
Rabbit, rabbit! Happy New Year! I baked an almond cake which failed so surreally I am now studying the remains to see what happened. According to the recipe, it was supposed to collapse in the middle, but it was also supposed to have some structural integrity afterward—I am not discounting the possibility that I just don't like this style of cake, but it literally broke up on re-entry. Looking for photographs of Peter Ustinov, I found him being a feral teenager and a slightly older teenage bohemian. He never lost the cat-look. I think tomorrow I will try the spider cake and see if it helps.

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I am especially partial to him without it, but it isn't like he lost that mouth, either.
[edit] So I just watched two films with younger Ustinov, one from 1943 and another from 1950, and based on his ability to look at age thirty as though he still couldn't buy his own drinks, I am seriously wondering if he was one of the people who acquired facial hair in a bid for visible maturity because the rest of their physiognomy sure wasn't helping them out. (
I read his autobiography fairly early, though--
I would really like to read that!
my dad had it, and I think I gravitated towards it because I'd imprinted on him as Prince John in Robin Hood. Gay Disney furry neuroticism at its finest.
Legit!
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A triple threat!