ain’t no drag.

especially when you pick up a hot date inside the wedding. which i so did.

“is it too soon to say i love you?” i asked her after the salad course.

then i hit on the best man. (hey, i never said i was loyal.)

and locked in a potential husband for 2020. he’ll be of age by then.

i really should not be allowed to drink during daylight hours. or daylight savings day. which gave me a whole extra 60 minutes to act a fool. although i had nothing on these ladies (i use the term loosely) at our hotel bar later that night. let’s just say there was a lot of gyrating and a lack of full-coverage underwear. gawd bless the jersey shore.

all in all, a beautiful affair.

in the am. for one night.

but you would nevah know if you saw what i packed. doesn’t everybody need five back-up dresses?

look, my a-game attire is back in the FL. in boxes. which i’m pretty sure my mom has stopped going thru after i begged her to cease all activities until she found my black sequin clutch.  three days — and several boxes later — i realized i had it in my suitcase here the whole time. i can’t say this shocked her. at least i’m consistent…so i’m stuck with my slutty city wardrobe. which seems slightly (very) inappropriate for a classy, seaside wedding. hence my all-day quest throughout midtown for the perfect tights. to detract from the shortness of the dresses. even though i got a pair the other day. so these are the backup tights. to my backup tights. and yes, i do believe that — even though i’m moving to paris in less than a month and have yet to find an apartment or learn how to say can i move in with you —  this was really the best use of my time. especially cuz i came back with the most special pair of tights imaginable: black opaque. can’t get those just anywhere now can you? (um you can.)

just cuz i’m going to the jersey shore doesn’t mean i have to dress like snooki, ok?! although if i could figure out how to do that pouf without losing out on any of my precious beauty sleep, i so would.

i feel ya gladys

except um i’m not taking a train. i’m taking a greyhound. but la did grow too much for this man. well WOman. but really, gladys, i get you. it’s like you wrote a song just for me. hmmm maybe i shoulda found a bus song.

this won’t annoy the hell outta you

ha ha, made u click!