Private to Irma.
Perkins. Perkins Perkins Perkins PERKINS PERKINS GUESS WHAT.
Well there's a few things. IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER:
1! My ankle is not actually broken! It's just sprained and it doesn't matter because
2! I WON. It was just a qualifier but it means I'm in the FINAL EIGHT for the Lightweight Championship. Those bitches are so done.
3! I've got a few months between now and then so you get to have me crash on your couch. How awesome is that!
4! These painkillers the doctor gave me are so great.
5! Wentz said something about a "budget" and "rationing" which I think is code for "get a job slacker" soooo who do you know who needs a waitress/bartender/coffee wench? (Though actually maybe not coffee wench, you remember what happened when I got that job at Starbucks? Did I tell you that story? Well at the end of it my hair smells like steamed milk for a week and I get banned from all NYC locations.) Anyway JOB. Who is not-crazy enough for me to safely ask.
6! I have kitchy Vegas souveniers so I hope you always wanted a rhinestoned cowboy hat. No, scratch that. I know you always wanted a rhinestoned cowboy hat. Well your day has come.
I'm swinging through Baltimore then taking the Chinatown bus up. So if your phone rings at 2am, pick it up - it's probably me, out on a hill in the middle of nowhere, because the driver decided that was the last stop. There are pay phones on hills in the middle of nowhere, right? But if you don't get that call I'll be there Friday.