*gah*
And again...*gah*. I have been thinking about what to wear next friday (a night to which it seems no one is going *pout*) and I have just confirmed what i have long suspected. All my old clubbing clothes have died. From the looks of it, it was a painfull death too. Very little can be saved. And all my old fake corsets died. This now officially means i have nothing to wear. And i suck at sewing so i can't go and make some like most of you nifty people can. Hell, I have a tonne of shoes to choose from but very little clothing. And no decent waist slimming boob-boosting tops. I need corsets and tops dammit. Hell, I need to ram-raid a goth store. At least i have until next friday to figure it all out. So I do not need to resort to panicked sobs in the corner just yet. I think the clubbing gods are trying to tell me something. Maybe if i beg the clubbing gods the will come to my rescue and cause me to lose weight (no slimming corsetry needed then) or some relative i have never met will die, leaving me a fortune on which to go on a shopping binge with. Mmmmmm, shopping binge.....And yes, i am very vain. Deal.
Well, at least I will be able to wear my oh so high stiletto heels again. And who knows maybe the music and company will be good too......a not so subtle hint for people to decide to come. I'm wounded so you should all be nice to me (I sliced my hand really deeply at work, again). And i know this is just more whinging. And I know that this is also not very interesting. But i worry about silly things. For some strange reason, the idea of walking into a club without being held in and pushed out scares me. Yet when i cut my hand open, all I did was calmly walk over to a co worker and say "I think I need to get this looked at". My priorities are well and truely fubar'd. Hmmm, and i am thinking of selling my knee high leopard print fur platform boots. I know they are gorgeous and i do love them. Hell, those boots were famous, but I do not wear them. And I can think of better things to buy. I may even swap with someone. A few people I know are cool with that kind of bartering. But shoot me if I try Ebay. Or chat rooms. *wanders off to harass clothes horse little sister*
Well, at least I will be able to wear my oh so high stiletto heels again. And who knows maybe the music and company will be good too......a not so subtle hint for people to decide to come. I'm wounded so you should all be nice to me (I sliced my hand really deeply at work, again). And i know this is just more whinging. And I know that this is also not very interesting. But i worry about silly things. For some strange reason, the idea of walking into a club without being held in and pushed out scares me. Yet when i cut my hand open, all I did was calmly walk over to a co worker and say "I think I need to get this looked at". My priorities are well and truely fubar'd. Hmmm, and i am thinking of selling my knee high leopard print fur platform boots. I know they are gorgeous and i do love them. Hell, those boots were famous, but I do not wear them. And I can think of better things to buy. I may even swap with someone. A few people I know are cool with that kind of bartering. But shoot me if I try Ebay. Or chat rooms. *wanders off to harass clothes horse little sister*