There is nothing better than sitting in a dark, climate-controlled office, shivering in a summer dress with a sun burn. I should search for a dusty air filter to stare at.
The last few days have been very jolly in the way that people can’t help being when the weather changes- long bike rides along the Charles, new clothes, parties and dirty jokes. I get a bang out of strolling around my neighborhood with a bright pink cocktail in hand.
The newest of the new drinks on offer at my house is the Los Angeles Iced Tea, which still has five kinds of liquor but replaces sour mix with Rock Star. This concoction gives rise to some interesting dreams. I woke up convinced not only that Prince showed up to our party, but that I had run into some ex-type bastard to find that both of his legs had been amputated. He invited me for a drink and I stood him up. Ha! Stood him up, he had no legs! His Purple Badness was not in actual attendance, but I can hold out hope that ex-bastard is scooching around on a dolly somewhere. No doubt he is merely off taking his James Spader lessons.
But I am not bitter, see how the sun it does shine.
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