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:
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.
like my life.