casper

I wore heels, and didn't kill myself!




*Insert battle cry here*.


And yes, I have an Android. Don't hate. It just means my cell case isn't as cute as yours.


I'm currently experiencing stage burn on the top of my right knee, foot, and arm pit. New stages can be intimidating, as the unfamiliar layout and surfaces will inflict surprise wounds upon your flesh.

It was almost three a.m when the seven foot tall bouncer walked me to my car, parked a few city blocks away. The line to Voodoo Donut was it's own particularly rowdy scene. Street punks and bag ladies harassed pedestrians and tourists for change, twenty somethings staggered in their heels and high tops, police stood by waiting for the next assault, and a drunk was vomiting somewhere. I recognized an industry friend, being filmed by his camera crew, undoubtedly for an upcoming skit. I quickened my pace, but caught the attention of a small group of typically rapey-looking dudes. And a young man with a t-shirt was eyeing me. I wore a flannel, jeans, and sneakers. Hair down, face wiped clean. He wore nothing notable except a shirt reading, 'Cool Story Babe - Now Make Me a Sandwich'. I felt the every constant anger bubbling and couldn't resist pointing suddenly while passing, shouting; "Hey! You're single! Your shirt says so!!!'

Goddamn, I love walking with seven foot tall bouncers.



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Love,


Casper-Elle