There is, in fact, an establishment by that name. I hate everything.
Josh, our dear friend Bridget, and I spent Saturday and Sunday in New Hampshire’s greatest shame, visiting friends and perusing thrift stores for unsettling dolls. Oh, and hey – we ate dinner at a place with almost 20,000 likes on Facebook. Anything to help offset the embarrassment.
I wore simple (for me) clothes and did not brush my hair. No makeup but for lipstick, without which I feel far too naked. Sometimes my love of aesthetics feels too performative. I want to wear my clothes, not the other way around. God forbid I become so lashed to a particular version of myself that I can’t leave the house in something less than perfect. Seriously, no one in Manch-fucking-Vegas is going to notice my unpolished nails.
Bridget is less than patriotic.
Singing or screaming? “Slay bells ring…”
Not even by the same author.
Be still whatever passes for my heart!