My breasts are in high demand!
So tonight was interesting. Through the grapevine, I discovered that I am going to acquire a famous british stalker named Jamie Oliver and that he is going to fall in love with me and give me my own cooking show that will be featured on the food network and that i will write beautiful cookbooks that will sell like hotcakes (no pun intended) and use my new-found fame and money to make a smooth transition into the literary world and my dreamy new husband, Jamie, and I will live happily ever after, riding off into the sunset on a white horse with flaring nostrils. Let me rephrase this: it was rumored that Voodoo Dougnuts was going to be having a mock wedding, which was to be filmed around 10 pm by the Food Network (we ended up being mistaken - it was the Travel Channel) and all were welcome to come by and be extras. So I powdered my nose and hopped out the door, met Alexandrea and Sonja, and arrived at our heaven-scented destination....only to stand in the cold (and I mean COLD) for two hours before giving up, purchasing a couple of donuts, and staggering to the bustop. That damned place is so small that it was only able to fit the bride and groom's realtives and close friends. what a pisser! Also, you have no idea how many times I was requested to expose my breasts for a strand of cheap, plastic beads...which, by the end of the night, I really wanted for some unknown reason. Some light flashing may have been a bit more appealing if it hadn't have been NEGATIVE FIVE MILLION DEGREES OUT! Really, who thought to have mardi gras in Febuary? Also, um, Portland? Mardi gras? Just...uh uh. Anyway, it took my toesies two and a half hours to thaw out completely. How terrifying - I thought they were going to snap off! Anyway, bottom line: voodoo doughnut talent search = a bust; mardi gras = everyone wants to see my bust.