Tuesday, March 12, 2013

No Sleep Til Brooklyn


Sleep deprivation is a funny thing especially when it is self-inflicted.  Heavy eyelids at 3pm.  Splash water on your face.  Take a walk around the office.  The knowledge that if you laid your head down on anything made of fabric you will probably be out for the next fourteen hours.

Just look at that fucking comfortable-ass sleeve.
 Like right now.  I have slept two and a half hours in two days.  I’m a fucking rock star.

I have no idea what I’m writing.  I will probably look back on this post without any inkling what I was trying to write about.  Actually, I’m thinking that right now.

Oh, that’s right.  Sleep deprivation and last night.

Yes, the 14th IS sexy.
So last night I wore this strapless red dress that bounced off my curves in all my favorite ways.  In a dress like that you just know you’re not getting much sleep that night.  I listened to extraordinarily bad karaoke, drank a really smooth white zinfandel (ugh, girl drink, I know, I know), and was led around by a really good-looking guy who took me on a date that consisted of an actual plan.

*vinyl scratch*

I know, ladies.  You might want to sit down.  

A PLAN??  *gasp!*
And not a neck tattoo in sight even.  Heavens to Murgatroyds!

A sexy dress, a few drinks, and a man with a plan.  Of course I didn’t sleep much last night.

A nod’s as good as a wink to a blind bat.  Eh, does she go? 

She goes indeed.

But in waaaaay cuter footwear.

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