Being sick stinks. My end table is as cluttered as my nose & mind. Left to right: Nail polish from some salon in Los Angeles in California Coral, my summer love, make-up bag that I haven't bothered to touch since I caught what seems like the plague a few days ago, a collection of jewelry in a dish that doubles as an ice cream lid, inhaler to cure the sickies that I've been considering blinging out for the longest (geek or chic?), infinite supply of water & OJ to get me through a depression, and AA's lookbook. I need the universe to know that I have too much to do to stay sick including cleaning this end table and my schedule up.
I want to paint this city gold, how am I supposed to accomplish that if I have a cold?
don't forget the mikes hard :] good touch
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