Gracie, Lara and I went to the washroom. It's a girl thing, boys.
I received a call from my dear Mark. Being the telebabad addict I am, I didn't hang up even while relieving myself. I turned the loudspeaker on and carried our conversation on.
We went to Watson's to grab some necessities. Then, on to the department store we went to grab some summer paraphernalia. Caprice is a sin, I tell you. I don't think it's a sickness nor a psychological defect. It's an innate characteristic beyond treatment nor modulation.
Archie and I walked to Watering Hole for a couple of bottles but twas full. We just hanged out a bit while I burned some sticks then went home.
At home, I fitted the funky shades I scored for a hundred bucks. While I turned and inspected the look from every angle, my line of sight navigated downstairs.
My pants were unzipped, the whole length of the zipper. My fuschia pink string thongs were revealed for all the world to see.
It's one of those moments I thank God I have a pretty face. People don't bother to gimme a head-to-foot. Their stare lingers on my face. [I friggin' hope]
Take my advice. Next time you go to the washroom, FOCUS. Double check if you must.
*.* as if! @ 11:52:00 PM • • RBJ