03.10.03 Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds." -Albert Einstein This was all a dream- this whole weekend. It started slowly with "the party" on Friday... continuing into my Saturday morning and by the time that BF got home at 2pm on Saturday afternoon, my weekend had already bled into bye-bye. I was pretty 'relaxed' from popping valiums all day and belligerent about something or another and well� Yeah, it was a pretty pitiful scene at Longview. He told me straight off that he was in a bad mood, but I convinced him that I needed to get out of the house. (Yeah, and then he laughed his ass off as I stumbled to the car) Then later, when we were at the mall, I wandered sleepily into Victoria�s Secret while BF was busy trying on shoes at the Foot Locker. Now, (on a side note) I would normally never step foot into a store full of PANTIES... but for some reason, in a haze of self-medication� the whole store looked abnormally "soft" and inviting. I was immediately barraged by a superskinnymodeltype sales girl who was WAAAAAY too excited about me trying on the latest �Angel� Bra. She proceeded to load my arms with one of every single color, along with every matching panty in the whole store. And there I was - standing butt-naked in the dressing room at Victoria�s Secret. Feeling under whelmed and ridiculous. And as I stood in that little room with bad lighting, I looked at myself in the mirror for what must have been the first time in months. My eyes were super sunken� Like holes. And I so I started regretting... And I just stood there for a minute and regretted. And that stupid salesgirl tried to persuade me to open the door and let her see me in the bra. �Heeeelllll no.� Why do they do that to you? So in the dressing room: I realized that I only own one bra. And I pretty much like it that way. One bra. One choice. I realized that when we had lunch earlier in the day, I got way too drunk. And it even crossed my mind that may-be I shouldn�t have cussed out the waitress at Hopps because she won�t serve BF beer. (His license has a tiny fucking hairline fracture down one side.) Maybe I should just wear a sign that says �Fuck me up the goat ass�. But THAT, my friends, is just the valium talking. |
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