I'm working on 6 hours of sleep, a drive in the dark with fog, 6 hours at the hospital, 2 Luna bars and a bottle of Pinot Noir. I only bought one bottle, because at 1:30 pm I really didn't think I'd want MORE. See, me and alcohol have a love, hate, godiloveyoudammit, hate relationship. I hate getting buzzed because I know I shouldn't. But it's been a long freaking day. Long and freaky. Mother came through the leg thing okay and I read every old issue of Good Housekeeping there was available ..and overheard this in the surgical waiting area: " I had a cell phone, but my boyfriend took a hatchet to it, so I guess you should give me a beeper." I would say 'Only in VT' , but somehow I think the same thing might be currently uttered in ... Alabama? Holy Shit.
So aside from being a complete happy drunk, dancing around with my son's iPod to Nickelback ( Rockstar...fucking love that song)...I give you Bocephus King. Hello hotness with a grinding voice. If you have iTunes, listen to 'Nowhere at All' and 'Think About You'. Yeah baby.
( The upper blurb was for the sole enjoyment of Zoely - but should anyone else read this, check him out. You will move your hips. Slowly. In a God-its-hot-here-I must-disrobe "Think About You" way. Makes me think of Richard actually. Hint, Zoely , Hint!)
My wine is gone. Crap. I think the bottle was 12 Weight Watchers Points....Leigh, if you read this, I lost 50 lbs online. You look fantastic.
I really wish I'd been on my game and asked the redneck chick for the backstory on the hatchet and the cellphone. Now we'll never know.
On to darling Warren and his prose. I always feel Accidentally Like Martyr. Mad Love.