cardinal and straw cocktails- delish
"It's getting hot in heeeere so take off all your hoes/I am getting so hot I'm gonna take my hooooooose off!"
- drunken me and Kati last night. I hate pantyhose. How many times did I mention that, I wonder? They make my legs too pale and make me feel like I'm suffering through someone's awful Bar Mitzvah. Or grandmother's funeral.
My to-do list is outrageous. It is too big for the post-it I have written it upon. Solution? Driiiink.
I'm going to get mono before the year is done. Of this I am sure.
Text message from sister Rachel Markowitz, 12:35am: "I wanna unbutton ur pants just a lil bit"
I come from an odd family. My dad is a lobster...'nuff said. Today's hangover was like an ice pick wedged between my eyes. I love living here. I love throwing myself on the couch on top of my sisters and leaving my shoes in the living room and not worrying about them getting bagged. Because seriously who would steal my ugly granny shoes that I wear for awful Bar Mitzvah's, grandmother funerals, and of course, pref night '05.
I also adore Kristen Baker, who reads this religiously because she is obsessed with Kimora Lee Simmons, and thus, me (according to facebook). What would I do without Baker's obscene drawings of demented peni and short boys with awkward smiles on my white board? Who would challenge me in anorexic watermelon eating contests? Why am I still writing this shiaaaat? I have things to do, which is why I'm not at the football game. Oh, and because the thought of getting up at 8:15 to drink more and eat greasy tailgate grub was enough to make me wanna jump off the Great Wall of China.
- drunken me and Kati last night. I hate pantyhose. How many times did I mention that, I wonder? They make my legs too pale and make me feel like I'm suffering through someone's awful Bar Mitzvah. Or grandmother's funeral.
My to-do list is outrageous. It is too big for the post-it I have written it upon. Solution? Driiiink.
I'm going to get mono before the year is done. Of this I am sure.
Text message from sister Rachel Markowitz, 12:35am: "I wanna unbutton ur pants just a lil bit"
I come from an odd family. My dad is a lobster...'nuff said. Today's hangover was like an ice pick wedged between my eyes. I love living here. I love throwing myself on the couch on top of my sisters and leaving my shoes in the living room and not worrying about them getting bagged. Because seriously who would steal my ugly granny shoes that I wear for awful Bar Mitzvah's, grandmother funerals, and of course, pref night '05.
I also adore Kristen Baker, who reads this religiously because she is obsessed with Kimora Lee Simmons, and thus, me (according to facebook). What would I do without Baker's obscene drawings of demented peni and short boys with awkward smiles on my white board? Who would challenge me in anorexic watermelon eating contests? Why am I still writing this shiaaaat? I have things to do, which is why I'm not at the football game. Oh, and because the thought of getting up at 8:15 to drink more and eat greasy tailgate grub was enough to make me wanna jump off the Great Wall of China.