November 13, 2005 - 1:59 a.m.
pre emptive strike
post mortem
premonition
please. tell me why the nights that begin so un-lucratively turn into a brass in pocket bonanza of free drinks.(and not in a misogynist way)
none of the beverages were purchased by hetero males. not one.
but they kept coming
and I watched, as Heaven-lee showcased her humps and lumps, and all those fine Fergie-inspired dance moves.
I love that she can upstage the woman she's impersonating. I wish I were that hot.
according to some... I'm getting there. So I dance my little hips off, rubbing elbows with all the girlies I haven't seen in ages, hearing none of the two songs I'm craving, but everything that teases with a similar beat. I'm trying to prop my eyelids open with my lashes, and before I peel myself into bed, I'll type a last few clicks; the applause I deserve for my well timed exit, mouths open, tongue on teeth and questions about the cover story I never intended to answer. left hanging.
