[You're so smooth and the world's so rough] You might have something to lose...
When she wrote, Rian was a firm believe in the use of the Writing Totem...the object that not only facilitated inspiration, but warded off those who would dare to impede upon the influence of the muse. There were her stylishly geeky black-framed reading glasses which hadn't held actual lenses since the tenth grade to make her feel scholarly and writerly...the enormous shooting range earmuffs that were her little portable isolation tank to avoid distraction...she even had her plastic tiara that proclaimed her status as The Motherfucking Princess Of The Pen to the masses.
The totems worked in writing, and so they translated into her everyday life...the worn out yoga pants that were her panacea when she was sick, the wallet that made her feel all organized and capable, the sassy black dress that would make any date a glowing success.
Dating totems...oh, she had plenty of those. The sassy black dress would get her laid, as would the cute and clingy jeans. The slacks and blouse were classy and understated, the chunky silver bracelet was her blind date good luck charm.
Tonight, she had only one totem to protect her as she ventured out of the house...and that was The Boots.
Ritual was a really nice looking place, and being that she was bound and determined to have fun being fan girl, Rian had gone with her favorite piece of Rocker Girl Chic, complete with big belt and funky necklace. It wasn't even a date outfit...it was a fun outfit, with the exception of The Boots...the big, buckle-y, zippered, badass, high and mighty, clompy if she wasn't careful heeled boots that made her feel taller, walk straighter, and generally added to the confidence level when she was nervous.
And she was nervous...a little. Damn it, it was bad enough that she'd let a new dude at the salon do her hair so it ended up coming out just a shade or two lighter than her naturally pathetic blonde-but-actually-brunette color, but add to that the fact that she was going out with a guy that she actually sorta-kinda-maybe-okay, flat out did like , and she was definitely nervous.
The Date from Hell hadn't made her nervous...he'd gotten the sassy-but-demure little black dress and pretty pumps. She'd been totally blonde and totally hot for that date, and cool as a cucumber. For Randy? She was leaving the house with her icky colored hair, dressed for a tasteful date-slash-rollicking good time, and wearing The Boots so she didn't feel like a deer in freaking headlights or something.
"Okay, Baxter...suck it up and go for it already, will you?" she huffed to herself as she sat in her car, having been in the parking lot for almost five minutes already. Checking her makeup and hair in the rearview mirror one last time, pouting at her reflection, she took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, and finally got the hell out of the car.
Walking through the lot and around to the front actually helped a little...The Boots worked their magic, clomping with a delightfully wicked cool note to them, soothing her nerves. That, and it was West Hollywood...less grungy than Hollywood proper, but still possessed of that air she'd fallen in love with as a teenager: a hum of something happening always coursed through the air. There was history here that wasn't the stuff of books or even legend...but everything had a story, beautiful in some way.
As she approached the door, she scanned the sidewalk to see if maybe he was waiting out front for her...if not, he was probably inside...
The totems worked in writing, and so they translated into her everyday life...the worn out yoga pants that were her panacea when she was sick, the wallet that made her feel all organized and capable, the sassy black dress that would make any date a glowing success.
Dating totems...oh, she had plenty of those. The sassy black dress would get her laid, as would the cute and clingy jeans. The slacks and blouse were classy and understated, the chunky silver bracelet was her blind date good luck charm.
Tonight, she had only one totem to protect her as she ventured out of the house...and that was The Boots.
Ritual was a really nice looking place, and being that she was bound and determined to have fun being fan girl, Rian had gone with her favorite piece of Rocker Girl Chic, complete with big belt and funky necklace. It wasn't even a date outfit...it was a fun outfit, with the exception of The Boots...the big, buckle-y, zippered, badass, high and mighty, clompy if she wasn't careful heeled boots that made her feel taller, walk straighter, and generally added to the confidence level when she was nervous.
And she was nervous...a little. Damn it, it was bad enough that she'd let a new dude at the salon do her hair so it ended up coming out just a shade or two lighter than her naturally pathetic blonde-but-actually-brunette color, but add to that the fact that she was going out with a guy that she actually sorta-kinda-maybe-okay, flat out did like , and she was definitely nervous.
The Date from Hell hadn't made her nervous...he'd gotten the sassy-but-demure little black dress and pretty pumps. She'd been totally blonde and totally hot for that date, and cool as a cucumber. For Randy? She was leaving the house with her icky colored hair, dressed for a tasteful date-slash-rollicking good time, and wearing The Boots so she didn't feel like a deer in freaking headlights or something.
"Okay, Baxter...suck it up and go for it already, will you?" she huffed to herself as she sat in her car, having been in the parking lot for almost five minutes already. Checking her makeup and hair in the rearview mirror one last time, pouting at her reflection, she took a deep breath, grabbed her purse, and finally got the hell out of the car.
Walking through the lot and around to the front actually helped a little...The Boots worked their magic, clomping with a delightfully wicked cool note to them, soothing her nerves. That, and it was West Hollywood...less grungy than Hollywood proper, but still possessed of that air she'd fallen in love with as a teenager: a hum of something happening always coursed through the air. There was history here that wasn't the stuff of books or even legend...but everything had a story, beautiful in some way.
As she approached the door, she scanned the sidewalk to see if maybe he was waiting out front for her...if not, he was probably inside...