Remember when I didn't work 67 hours a week and I had time to breathe? Those were the days. For those of you live under a rock and have never watched more than 3 seconds of ESPN, it's been hard core sports season for freggin months. March madness, baseball whatever, something with tennis. Idk. Believe me when I say, it truly is madness when you work in a sports bar. I asked my manager if he could put a cot in the attic so I could live like Anne Frank and save on gas, but he denied my request. Tyrant. Although the money has been boner-tastic, I would love to have a full day off, most
full of day drinking, shopping with money I don't have, and schmoozing with my bittys. Besides working like an indentured servant, my personal life has been near non existent. I have neglected my writing for my little lemons which I truly and deeply lament. I could give you all a long drawn out story of what I have been up to, but lets be real, you aint gonna read dat. Long story short, I have been in a cyclone of my own world, totally consumed with anything and everything that you can imagine. Packing, moving, funerals, relationship drama (totes just used the R word), and getting my career in order. But I need to get back to me, and this blog, although some may find it small and insignificant, is a big part of me. So, like a virgin, I'm going to ease in nice and slow.
What can you expect from me? Well, much like your 3rd grade teacher, set your expectations low my friends. I hope to be one here once a week, slowly but surely farting out my random hoopla of this that and the other. And food. And stuff I buy (you're welcome for reviving the economy. That was me.) And you know, stuff. Thank you to those of you who wrote me emails and tweets. I'M HERE. And I smell a come back... or Chanel. Whatev.
& with that, I leave you with one of my latest tattoos. You're welcome.