last week i changed my hair & became a bona fide blonde once more. a dangerous combination. i thank heartbreak for the phenomena which coincided with the acquisition of several new pairs of shoes. blondes have more fun. especially in killer heels. last night i went out & left a trail of destruction in my wake. the combination of alcohol, no food & the desire to fall out of love enslavement are strange bedfellows indeed. especially in a public environment which is fuelled towards feeding professional & burgeoning social networkers. yes, i was at #SMCSYD at the arthouse hotel.
it must have been good because i woke up naked in a strange house with most of my clothes still missing, covered in city sized bruises vibrating to the alarm from a mobile with an in/sentbox filled with some of the most fried prose i've ever been forced to endure. unfortunately i wasn't the only one. there really should be an invention for trashed peeps that just loops SMSs back with auto responses without the airwaves ever transporting that juggled binary to their intended audience.
so whilst the fun was allegedly fantastic last night [reconstructed through texts, drunk tweets, others' stories + my N95 vid capture] it wasn't enduring. i'm already trying to work out which hair colour to try next whilst i meekly don ballet slippers & deal in damage control. in the meantime i'm negotiating my public relations role for the next SMCSYD event & enjoying these borrowed clothes.
I am sure I posted this before?
ReplyDeleteI always considered blonde to be your default state. I think that's what you were when we first started talking years ago? I do remember when we caught up last time I was surprised to see you weren't blonde!