Can I read to you from my diary?
Whoa. This weekend was off the hook? chain? outdated reference? Cowabunga!
I went to a wedding yesterday and first things first- I must thank my incredibly patient date for the evening, Mr Mike Boody- who not only put up with my tireless dancing, which I have come to realize is a cross between melting into the floor and this:
but he also endured my glutenous cake eating, my endless wine drinking- which led to an unfortunate instance of face licking- and my need to connect with the stray cat that wandered through the reception area.
Diary, am I a hot mess of a dork? I certainly am not cool or suave or mysterious. A real lady would have gone by herself to a wedding, drank only red wine, danced only once or twice and then disappeared into the night air. Oh, and left a fabulous wedding gift. Anonymously.
But then again, she might not have had as good a time as I did. See I learned, in the past sentence, what's important. To have fun and not be a douche about it- that makes for a pretty awesome body. So take that and stuff it in your love pitas, you "real" ladies of the world, you "cool" kids of the neighborhood, you "kings" of New England.
Wow, I feel so much better, diary.
Yo teach. Thanks.