Saturday, November 18, 2006

the truth that I am starting to properly shit myself for Sunday. I'm shaking in my doondies, and I fear binge-drinking, for once, won't help the situation.

Also, apparently being a tree hugger isn't all that. For boyfriends anyway.
It's not like I'm wearing tie-dye and hemp, living in a treehouse off Jellicoe Avenue, burning my bra and putting sugar into the petrol tanks of the chopper machines. I'm still a somewhat de rigeur fashionista tree hugger, like today, in white mock croc six inch heels.

I'm sulking.


kyknoord said...

Maybe all that poop will cushion your bum?

Peas on Toast said... that is a wonderful thought... ;)

Revolving Credit said...

Shame feeling down?

Pick a fruit