Back from Chelsea Piers, and feelin’ swell! (Also groovy, but not quite ready to kick down the cobblestones.)
Unlike my no-theme approach established this morning, the following assorted (but by no means sordid) tidbits are a bit more thematic (and, in the case of the first item, traumatic):
- While at the Piers, I discovered, with a fair amount of chagrin, that I neglected to bring two items I never leave home without: lipgloss and a pen. But never fear; I’m a resourceful girl, and quickly learned that blood is a more than adequate substitute for both gloss and ink.
- Because for some reason I’m in a rather good mood today, I actually smiled and may have even giggled (but in a very sophisticated and mature manner) when a slightly flushed/ruddy fellow on West 23rd Street said to me, “Heaven must be missin’ an angel. Hello, angel!”
- I didn’t even flinch (too much) when a young guy was walking behind me with a mini-boombox (are they still called that, kidz?) that blared the hideous song “Backstabbers”. I resisted the urge to stop and pretend to be intensely interested in something in a store window in order to allow him to pass and thus relieve his urge to act out the song on me.
- I did not lick my pouty, sunkissed (no need for gloss!) lips sexily at the many men in suits who obviously thought my own brilliant beauty rendered me blind to their unabashed, undisguised, blatant leers at my ass. (I must admit that I spent quite a bit of time admiring it myself in the mirror, like in Special K commercials. I may have even said, aloud, “Girl, you look fiiiine!” [Note I said “may”.])
And to top it all off, I took some happy, phun pho-tos! Enjoy!