Twenty Fucking Seven

Thursday: TwentyFucking Seven. What a waste of a considerable length of time. Sleeping, swearing, getting too drunk, being sick, being rude, arguing, eating samosas, eating spaghetti, being cold, having blisters on my heels all the time, twisting my ankles all the time, complaining that my feet hurt all the time, regrets about various inappropriate people and places (my parents read this so it is heavily edited) I could go on. Suffice to say, a lot of hangovers and a lot of mistakes. Luckily however, je ne regret rien so it's all sweet like Tropicana.

Horrible slushy snow that meant we couldn't really go far from the apartment in the morning. My ridiculous footwear situation also meant that the only shoes I have that weren't scraps of ribbon and cardboard were high heels so I was teetering about the place in these. James insisted we go to a god awful bakery that is also sort of a diner for homefries and eggs because it's close by the apartment. They didn't have homefries so we ate horrible egg and chips followed by horrible cakes. Opposite the diner was a nail bar and seeing as it was my bloody birthday and I'd been deprived of the only thing I truly wanted to eat I got these bitches done.

 

What the photo doesn't quite capture is that they are a startling neon pink not the sophisticated coral they appear. Drag queen hookers everywhere are crying into their wigs wishing they were me.

More later, I need to go and get something to eat, it's 2 o'clock and I've not had any breakfast. Bella, I am hitting Bedford to get some $5 Thai food. I'll tell them you said hi.

Kisses
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