Just give me a mini skirt and stilettos...
Conclusions I made today:
The promise of a decent tan for once in my life is the only thing that keeps me going to the pool. (That, and the possibility of meeting some hot guys.) It’s hard for me to sit still long enough to tan/burn but I’m doing it dammit. I’m determined to have the best tan at Christmastime in Ohio.
Watching the MTV Video Music Awards, I was reminded of one of my life goals – I want to, at least once, be a scantily-clad dancer in a rapper’s video. Call me crazy but it looks like a hell of a lot of fun and just imagine the story from that experience. I’m waiting for your call, Ludacris.
Jeff is a Nazi baker. Last night, he made cookies and today it’s éclairs and cheesecake. I walked into the kitchen more than once to grab a drink while sneaking a peek over his shoulder and he kept pointing to the living room and saying, ‘Get out. Get out of the kitchen!’ I understand though. I’ll do the same thing tomorrow when I’m mopping the mashed potatoes and cookie dough off the floor. (‘Stop dropping shit on the floor. Do you want us to get ants!?!’)
Looking through the classified ads in the newspaper, I realized I should have been a nurse, engineer, carpenter or (obviously) software tech. Just don’t tell my mom or she’ll say, ‘I told you so.’ I’m debating, however, whether to be a receptionist or an exotic dancer. I can always practice for my video debut.
The promise of a decent tan for once in my life is the only thing that keeps me going to the pool. (That, and the possibility of meeting some hot guys.) It’s hard for me to sit still long enough to tan/burn but I’m doing it dammit. I’m determined to have the best tan at Christmastime in Ohio.
Watching the MTV Video Music Awards, I was reminded of one of my life goals – I want to, at least once, be a scantily-clad dancer in a rapper’s video. Call me crazy but it looks like a hell of a lot of fun and just imagine the story from that experience. I’m waiting for your call, Ludacris.
Jeff is a Nazi baker. Last night, he made cookies and today it’s éclairs and cheesecake. I walked into the kitchen more than once to grab a drink while sneaking a peek over his shoulder and he kept pointing to the living room and saying, ‘Get out. Get out of the kitchen!’ I understand though. I’ll do the same thing tomorrow when I’m mopping the mashed potatoes and cookie dough off the floor. (‘Stop dropping shit on the floor. Do you want us to get ants!?!’)
Looking through the classified ads in the newspaper, I realized I should have been a nurse, engineer, carpenter or (obviously) software tech. Just don’t tell my mom or she’ll say, ‘I told you so.’ I’m debating, however, whether to be a receptionist or an exotic dancer. I can always practice for my video debut.
posted by Tasha @ 11:57 PM
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