So, it’s 4 in the morning and I’m sitting here in a pair of pink cotton gauchos and a blue tee with a picture of bikini-clad bunnies that reads “Hunk Patrol: Bring on the Guys” (which I am almost certain was aquired by a relative from a thrift store when I was in junior high), and my favorite ring, just to watch it sparkle pretty while my fingers taptaptap across the keyboard whilst I alternately attempt to compose the interesting-not-trite cover letter for an application and research discount DIY invitation kits for an article rewrite. Maybe the ring, in all its luxtastical glory, will weave some cash-boosting juju into all those words…
I will be so glad when this month is over.
Well the end is in sight. Aren’t you glad you kept that gorgeous ring?
I’d like to see a photo of that outfit, lady. Sounds like a winner. But I’ve come to the conclusion that one must be careful about invitations broadcast across one’s titties. My “looking for an irish boy” tee, for example, stays in the drawer. All of a sudden I have higher standards than “irish.” See, 30 is good. Raises the bar.
hey…just wanted to post a quick comment…love reading your blog.