While clubbing at the (in)famous Silverlake RimJob...
Me: Pouding back liquid Bacardi like I'm a Super Soaker 5,000.
Me: Dancing on a boxes for nickles, dimes and even a few dollar bill$
Me: Grabbing the mesh netting of the DJ cage and doing my sexiest "Britney stuck in a spider web" wiggle and shake
Me: Being told by the bartender: "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here.... Uh, but you should probably go home, you Hot Mess."
Me: ....[Uh?????]...
Me: ....[Whaaaaat?!]...
Me: BlackOut... As dark and as beautiful as Brit Brit's new CD.
Me: Violently jarred by this AM's 7:25 alarm clock. Literally, all limbs hurting like I'm a spit-in-the-join to grease-the-wheel 50+ fat chick in a floral print moo-moo and a south-by-southwest midwest trailer with a fast food addiction and a Marlboro death wish.
I'm bringing SexyBack (while ChokingBack vomit)...!!
WeLCuM 2...
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1 comment:
U kno u had fun!
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