Hot little blonde number.
Guess who the hot little blonde number is? That's right, it's me. I'm all dolled up for the Melissa Etheridge concert tonight, wearing...
* Tight blue jeans that don't make me look like a whale.
* Matching black bra and panties (be prepared!).
* A tight red tank top that really goes with my skin.
* My white tie-over shirt with the gauzy sleeves. Combined with the red tank top, I suddenly have breasts the size of Nebraska.
My hair is clean, sweet-smelling and combed wild, so that dancing won't make it look fly-away; my makeup is subtle and nice; my nails have been polished a vivid shade of hot summer night offer your throat to the wolf with the red, red roses scarlet. I am, in fact, a seriously hot little blonde number right now.
If it sounds like I'm bragging -- I am. But the times when I'm willing to say 'I am a hot little blonde number' are few and far between, and no matter how this night goes, I want a written record of the fact that (for at least a little while), I was ready to jump high, cheer loud, and look pretty.
There's glitter in my hair and on my breasts; before I go out, I'll add a little bit to my lipstick, so that my kisses will shine. I feel good about myself, and about all those cute dyke girls that are gonna turn out to watch Melissa wail on her guitar.
Sometimes these moments are the best kind in the world.
Hot little blonde number. That's me.
* Tight blue jeans that don't make me look like a whale.
* Matching black bra and panties (be prepared!).
* A tight red tank top that really goes with my skin.
* My white tie-over shirt with the gauzy sleeves. Combined with the red tank top, I suddenly have breasts the size of Nebraska.
My hair is clean, sweet-smelling and combed wild, so that dancing won't make it look fly-away; my makeup is subtle and nice; my nails have been polished a vivid shade of hot summer night offer your throat to the wolf with the red, red roses scarlet. I am, in fact, a seriously hot little blonde number right now.
If it sounds like I'm bragging -- I am. But the times when I'm willing to say 'I am a hot little blonde number' are few and far between, and no matter how this night goes, I want a written record of the fact that (for at least a little while), I was ready to jump high, cheer loud, and look pretty.
There's glitter in my hair and on my breasts; before I go out, I'll add a little bit to my lipstick, so that my kisses will shine. I feel good about myself, and about all those cute dyke girls that are gonna turn out to watch Melissa wail on her guitar.
Sometimes these moments are the best kind in the world.
Hot little blonde number. That's me.