plus, in LA everyone is smokin, so.

i was in my pjs. it was saturday. i was thinking about treating myself to some sushi delivery and calling it a night, when she texted:

ubering tonight?

no, i hit my goal yesterday. day off!

what are you gonna do?

jack shit! only got 1 day off over the last 2 weeks thanks to the Oscars, so im pooped.

perfect. be right over!

oh i would be the worst company ever. odds are very good that i would fall asleep in the middle of dinner.

why do i doubt this?

plus my house is a wreck, my medicine cabinet is bleeding from the inside, i still have a little cough going on close to a month now. i need a new bed room throw rug, my camera is broke, i cant find my second xbox controller, and i havent shaved my head since

there was a knock at the door.

there was a peek through the mexican blanket curtain.

there were high heeled shoes

legs like zz top

a completely ridiculous black dress so short the seamstress probably had a heart attack making

and either it was drizzling outside or she was wearing glitter.

she mouthed: i have cookies!

opened the door and fake news because she really didnt have cookies, she had cookie dough

does your oven work?

she also had bananas.

bananas,

like my life.