CALL ME DEACON BLUES
I had written up this incredible post from my jacuzzi and chandelier hotel room in the mountains, but it has been lost in the ether, apparently. This is upsetting because it's nearly impossible to rewrite something from memory becuase there will always be some missing element, impossible to recall, that made the whole thing work. I think, in that case, I was bitching about how I was staying in a non-smoking room, but there was somehow an ashtray in the desk drawer, and I found this incredibly confusing because everything in a hotel like that is meant to seem welcoming, but also cost a lot of money. Like, "Don't worry, Miss Smith, we'll park your car THOSE CANDY BARS COST MONEY! HANDS OFF THE KALUA, BITCH!" The upshot is that I ended up smoking in the hotel room, but then I felt bad and washed out the ashtray and ran hot water in the tub to "cleanse" the air.
Because I am, at heart, very much a law-abiding citizen.
February is the most boring and terrible month, even though it has two zany holidays--how is it even possible? Valentine's Day and Groundhog Day are like the technicolor gravy of the holidays, but they're in the shortest, most unbearable month. I don't get it. Then again, it's been a long time since I've had a Valentine's Day that lived up to the cupcake and sweetheart promise.
But you know what I do when things are boring: break out the false eyelashes and theatrics. Which, for right now, will mean bowling shirts and maybe some peach shnapps. You know, GETTING HUSTLE. (If you need some reminders in GETTING HUSTLE, page back to last February.)
I had written up this incredible post from my jacuzzi and chandelier hotel room in the mountains, but it has been lost in the ether, apparently. This is upsetting because it's nearly impossible to rewrite something from memory becuase there will always be some missing element, impossible to recall, that made the whole thing work. I think, in that case, I was bitching about how I was staying in a non-smoking room, but there was somehow an ashtray in the desk drawer, and I found this incredibly confusing because everything in a hotel like that is meant to seem welcoming, but also cost a lot of money. Like, "Don't worry, Miss Smith, we'll park your car THOSE CANDY BARS COST MONEY! HANDS OFF THE KALUA, BITCH!" The upshot is that I ended up smoking in the hotel room, but then I felt bad and washed out the ashtray and ran hot water in the tub to "cleanse" the air.
Because I am, at heart, very much a law-abiding citizen.
February is the most boring and terrible month, even though it has two zany holidays--how is it even possible? Valentine's Day and Groundhog Day are like the technicolor gravy of the holidays, but they're in the shortest, most unbearable month. I don't get it. Then again, it's been a long time since I've had a Valentine's Day that lived up to the cupcake and sweetheart promise.
But you know what I do when things are boring: break out the false eyelashes and theatrics. Which, for right now, will mean bowling shirts and maybe some peach shnapps. You know, GETTING HUSTLE. (If you need some reminders in GETTING HUSTLE, page back to last February.)
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