Reeled In

I keep trying to initiate this post.
But like sex with the blonde girl who works at Starbucks, I don't know how to go about it.
I have had a drab few days.
Because it has been so sunny.
And usually when people are enjoying themselves-flying kites, going to the beach-I am lamentable and surly.
More to the point, it likely has something to do with school work.
Which is becoming stifling and tedious.
Like sitting in the middle seat of a twelve-hour flight.
Which is why I try to stick to boats for my voyages, when I can.

I don't see the point in getting a high-definition television.
I can never keep my glasses clean.

How long does it take to learn to walk in heels?
And I thought applying eyeliner was hard...
I had to wear heels for a photo shoot that Turpin and I participated in recently.
We ruined a portion of an evening for some people in Lottie's.
Alright.
Alright.
You got it out of me.
I didn't have to wear the heels so much as I chose to.
Nevertheless.
I wouldn't care how tight it made my ass look
(as if it could get any tighter).
I would be far too terrified of rolling my ankle to ever go to a keg party.
Let alone show my breasts there.
Which, from the American Pie franchise, is what I understand women do at keg parties.
That and they watch Stiffler inevitably end up drinking piss somehow.
You women fascinate me with all of your various fishing lures.