i’m freakishly sleepy. i got home at 6 from spending an amazing few hours with the love of my life. we laid in bed & watched hancock—the bootleg. i’m glad i didn’t pay to see that shit. it’s actually quite stupid. super heroes and married siblings; it’s a hot ass mess. so after sitting thru that, we started it over—to drown out the sounds of, umm, you know. then we took pics. well, he took pics—of me, if you catch my drift. then we talked about what would happen between us if he moved back to pennsylvania. i have no intentions of us breaking up just because he’s two hours away, and i’m happy the feeling’s mutual. then he laid on me, which made me cry. i haven’t been able to sleep easily in days because i’ve been so worried about him. he wiped my tears, as usual because his girlfriend’s a big baby, and then we continued our little photo shoot. then came round two, followed by more pics—normal ones, kinda. ha. the sex is amazing with him, and what makes it even better is that he means so much to me. we talked about weekending at his dad’s. I’m cool with it, i just don’t know how his dad will feel—i’ll keep you posted.
so tomorrow’s a big day for us. the 11th of every month is big. it’s just our thing. i haven’t decided on tomorrow night’s plans, but i have to pick up my check, hit the bank, and get our gift for roxanne and monty’s couples shower. i’m thinking, late night sushi at the promenade or brooklyn bridge park. we’ll get home around 2am and pass out in my living room—accidentally. i’ll make breakfast, as usual, then we’ll make cup cakes for the shower that day. this should be fun…not really.
and i have to get that ugly ass bridesmaids’ dress for the wedding. i hate it. you’d think as the maid of honor, i’d get to look different. nope. this shit’s obscenely hideous. i’ll have to sit there and figure out how to change it, but as is, it’s ridiculous. but my robbie will be there, so i’m excited for that.
so i’m just blogging until i fall asleep. i really could use a nap. i’m worn out.
hair show. august 9th. the meeting went well. i met a few of the other girls; they’re not what i’m used to when i go to go sees, but i guess it’s not that kind of party. it’s basically runway work, but instead of the focus being on the clothes, it’s on the hair. shanel, the stylist, said i’m her rocker girl. she likes my haircut, and she’s adding purple tracks to it. funny thing; i’m the skinniest girl there, yet, she keeps telling me not to eat. does this bitch not know that i’m a size 2 and 120 pounds, unlike the rest of her models? this other girl there was a size 7, and when i asked her if she got the same critique, she said no and looked at me like she was shocked and appalled—not my fault, honey.
so you think you can dance is starting, then america’s best dance crew. i’m out this bitch.