Last night she said, "Baby, I feel so down."

Getting free Mezcal is natch, y'all.

And yelling the words to "Last Night" in between songs to get the band to play the Strokes? Drunken joy.

And pictures of me smiling with a lime rind for teeth? Well, that's just class with a capital K.

Shit

"Me gusta ver a ti," me dijo.

Oh dear, I think but don't say, you're sixteen. You're sixteen. You're sixteen.

But damn, you're fucking cute.



When I got home, I opened the door to find Daca asleep on the stairs. My entrance woke up him and he seemed really fucking terrified for a minute, so I asked him what he was doing, you know, sleeping on the stairs. He didn't really have an answer, other than, 'I just sat down there for a sec' and denied being drunk. But the loud stumbling up the stairs and running into walls begged to differ.

Those bad idea jeans don't even fit

You know what's a bad idea? Going to an hour and a half long ballet class after not dancing for a month, and then going to yoga the very next day.

My shoulders are going to fall out of my neck. My legs can barely move in my hip sockets. GOD, I AM SUCH AN OLD LADY.