I am going to California in 4 hours. I just cleaned the kitchen in orange lace boy shorts and a wife beater while singing loudly & poorly to "Deacon Blues", and maybe cried a bit when they sing about how writing this song made them cry. Or maybe it was because I realized I left the blinds up in the kitchen and that the Asian family across the way were gathered to stare at me on my hands and knees scrubbing the residue of those smashed mini chocolate donuts I drunkenly threw at Anne during my cocktail party off the floor like Cinderella.
Now I am listening to "Polyester Bride" and completely ignoring the fact that I have to pack for the trip I'm taking home in, of I don't know, oh yes, 4 HOURS.
Ah, yes ain't that fresh, now everybody wants to get down like that.