babs

Please consult this link to get a full understanding of what I mean when I say (in lowercase letters): babs.

My date had to cancel. He was very nice about it and had good reasons.

He wants to reschedule for Sunday. After referring to pages 72-76 in my paperback version of "The Guide to Being the Biggest Bitch You Can Be: Owning It", I responded "I'll have to get back to you".

Yes, I want to reschedule. I just can't do it so soon after posting my pretty (pretty awesome!) outfit on the blogizzle. That would just be painful.

It would also convey the wrong message- that I was jumping up and down just dying for this date. While I was looking fwd to it more than I care to admit, it is only a 3rd date. And date #2 was over 2 weeks ago. It was a good one. We played Connect 4. We drank good beer. But I think I should repeat: it was over 2 wks ago now. So whatevski.

If I am perfectly honest with you (and you know how I hate to hide things from my fans and how the stalker-razzi eventually learns all) then I will have to just come out and admit it: ready? ok.

Deep cleansing breath in, deep cleansing breath out. I am mainly upset that I got this kick-arse outfit together, courtesy of Liza, and now can't wow him with my hotness until Sunday.

[assuming i say yes- and I am 99.9% sure that I will say yes once I am no longer wearing my Liza's beautious necklace that makes me look like the debutante that I am]

done. doner.

It is icky and rainy outside today anyways and my hair is starting to frizz. Sunday is supposed to be beautiful. Please come thru for me this one time Sam Champion. My adorable little blonde gay man who decides the weather. Help an uptown girl out this once. Or I will cut you.

donest.