Huntress of the Lens


Saturday, May 22, 2010

Screaming Cocktail Wieners

Two Queen-sized beds shoved together, five women. One not feeling well, one sober, three pretty drunk, sleeping in a row like unruly cocktail franks on a plate. Shayla says I snore just like her bulldog John Rambo. Tiffany got stuck sleeping right over the crack between the two beds. I got star shaped nipple shields (held on with the barbell that pierces them) yesterday and my nipples hurt worst than they ever did during the first two days of nursing any of my babies.

Drinking, dranken, drunk. I'm not that drunk, really. I heard that a lot last night. I, in fact, was not drunk at all, but I woke up with the hangover that someone else deserves. Screaming women fighting all night long like mockingbirds, except they were angry and not up in the trees.

It's cold here, can I get a "What the fuck?" from the congregation? Usually I lament the lack of sunscreen, and this year I'm looking for my jacket.

Ok, Angelique is here for coffee, a girl's gotta keep her priorities straight.

Shitty internet connection

here, I hope this posts. Pictures of the mayhem soon.

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The fish can fly, the dogs and cats dance together and all the flowers are edible.