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Note to self
Sep. 11th, 2004 03:21 amDear Laura,
It's not avisiable to stay up until 3 am partying like a mofo when you have to escort at the clinic in the morning. I don't care if you have super powers on account of the antibiotics or if the cool kids were doing it first---you must sleep. A tired Laura makes baby jesus cry. So quit it and sleep already.
Love,
Your body
Today was lovely. I hosted a Reggae dance party at work which either makes me the best manager in the world or the worst boss ever. It goes without saying that we didn't get much done today but a greater booty-shaking good was served.
For the record, I learned how to do a butt clap today. Huzzah!
I went to la fiesta de los estudiantes graduate (what the hell is the Spanish word for that?). Despite the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on the collective education in the room, every one wanted to talk about boobies and only boobies. Yes, I filled them in on Burning Man and the thousands of mammary glands that I was privileged to see--I was popular as a conduit for those living vicariously. Aside from the low brow topics o' conversation, it was nice to be back. I'm regaining some of my sharper edges which I'm happy for. I've been walking around in a daze since Burning Man--it's nice to feel more like myself (albeit a kinder, gentler, mushy version of myself).
And now, now it's bloody freaking late and I should be in bed.
The Sandman calls.
It's not avisiable to stay up until 3 am partying like a mofo when you have to escort at the clinic in the morning. I don't care if you have super powers on account of the antibiotics or if the cool kids were doing it first---you must sleep. A tired Laura makes baby jesus cry. So quit it and sleep already.
Love,
Your body
Today was lovely. I hosted a Reggae dance party at work which either makes me the best manager in the world or the worst boss ever. It goes without saying that we didn't get much done today but a greater booty-shaking good was served.
For the record, I learned how to do a butt clap today. Huzzah!
I went to la fiesta de los estudiantes graduate (what the hell is the Spanish word for that?). Despite the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent on the collective education in the room, every one wanted to talk about boobies and only boobies. Yes, I filled them in on Burning Man and the thousands of mammary glands that I was privileged to see--I was popular as a conduit for those living vicariously. Aside from the low brow topics o' conversation, it was nice to be back. I'm regaining some of my sharper edges which I'm happy for. I've been walking around in a daze since Burning Man--it's nice to feel more like myself (albeit a kinder, gentler, mushy version of myself).
And now, now it's bloody freaking late and I should be in bed.
The Sandman calls.
