No, it's not the fever for a flavor of a pringle, nor is it an sick, flu type fever. I got shopper's fever. I have put off going out and really buying something for me for so long that at this point it has blossomed into a full blown 'I want' rage.
I want a gray with black rosette cozy wrap from Dillard's which they are not putting on line. Only the gross black one with gray rosettes. How fucked up is that? Totally fucked up. I want another box of Mrs. See's Truffles which are 180 calories just for looking at one, 11grams of total fat. They taste so good it is like clubbing a baby seal with a bottle of Jack Daniels while it smiles at you. I want to drop $300 at the mall on hair accessories and pretty underwear no one will see. Incredi-bra, I'm talking to you.
I want to take out a hot guy and spend some money on him (aka make it rain). Take him to an expensive restaurant where I will fit in because I look fabulous in my new cardigan and he will look out of place because he's so hot and underdressed (because it is a surprised), then drag his ass back to a previously prepared hotel suite where I will dress him up in all the very hot trendy fashions I can't get real boys to wear. Maybe even a slick fedora or cute herringbone cabby hat. Then just romp on him. Tell him about all the golf clubs and TVs I'm gonna buy him while he moans and screams.
I want to totally redecorate my room so that it is finally fully themed. Not like one piece of furniture that totally doesn't fit. Then hire some woman to clean it for me.
I want to get my nails done, and have bright red extensions put in it and super funky make-up so I look like a God damn peacock --then go dancing so all the club fairies can swoon over me and tell me how good I look and how fabulous my shoes are sparkling as I dance through the crowd.
Jeez, is that too much to ask? I think not.
Oh, and a Starbuck's latte. I want one of those, too.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Fever
No, it's not the fever for a flavor of a pringle, nor is it an sick, flu type fever. I got shopper's fever. I have put off going out and really buying something for me for so long that at this point it has blossomed into a full blown 'I want' rage.
I want a gray with black rosette cozy wrap from Dillard's which they are not putting on line. Only the gross black one with gray rosettes. How fucked up is that? Totally fucked up. I want another box of Mrs. See's Truffles which are 180 calories just for looking at one, 11grams of total fat. They taste so good it is like clubbing a baby seal with a bottle of Jack Daniels while it smiles at you. I want to drop $300 at the mall on hair accessories and pretty underwear no one will see. Incredi-bra, I'm talking to you.
I want to take out a hot guy and spend some money on him (aka make it rain). Take him to an expensive restaurant where I will fit in because I look fabulous in my new cardigan and he will look out of place because he's so hot and underdressed (because it is a surprised), then drag his ass back to a previously prepared hotel suite where I will dress him up in all the very hot trendy fashions I can't get real boys to wear. Maybe even a slick fedora or cute herringbone cabby hat. Then just romp on him. Tell him about all the golf clubs and TVs I'm gonna buy him while he moans and screams.
I want to totally redecorate my room so that it is finally fully themed. Not like one piece of furniture that totally doesn't fit. Then hire some woman to clean it for me.
I want to get my nails done, and have bright red extensions put in it and super funky make-up so I look like a God damn peacock --then go dancing so all the club fairies can swoon over me and tell me how good I look and how fabulous my shoes are sparkling as I dance through the crowd.
Jeez, is that too much to ask? I think not.
Oh, and a Starbuck's latte. I want one of those, too.
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