drink up ladies...the boys get cuter, and i get skinnier.i went to a farewell party for my friend, j., last night. j. designed and built all of the body forms for my show. sweet, talented lady. she's heading west to LaLa Land to pursue a career in set design. she's got a hot bod, flaming tresses and one helluva noggin. she should do smashingly well. she should probably keep the brain a bit of a secret in the beginning however.
anyway, i'm quite sober when i arrive. everyone else is...not. i'm chatting with a lovely inebriated lass, h. h. is friends with j. and therefore knows all about my show, blog, etc. in between sips, she slurringly praises me:
you're so funny! you're so talented! i love your blog. but wait! your show is called size ate? but you're not a size 8!
i'm thinking: no, not always. sometimes a 10. sometimes a 12. you're right. thanks for pointing that out. it's not like i'm that much bigger. sheesh. i hate drunk people.
she accidentally picks up my drink to take a sip:
you're not a size 8! you're like a size 4!
i love drunk people.
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