As someone who prides herself (it’s more like bragging) on easily wearing high heels and being able to run a marathon with 3-inch platforms, I twisted my leg last night. I was strutting around in my 4-inch Gucci boots and my left stilt caught on a sidewalk crack. Before I came crashing down, I tried to correct the situation—which prevented a fall on wet pavement, but managed to twist my poor ankie. Pooey. I’ve been laid up all day except for an early morning eye appointment for a routine checkup and dilation. I couldn’t even read for half the day, it took hours for the blurriness to wear away.
I’m sure you’re all concerned about my Botox treatment. To be honest, it took a couple days for it to kick in, but I no longer have any underarm wetness. Not a single bead of perspiration. I was dancing around the other night, totally getting into it, totally sweating. I checked my armpits. Nothing. No perspiration at all. Very weird considering I’ve been Miss Piggy my whole life. I hope the Botox lasts for a year.
I mentioned that my girlfriends got me the best Rabbit vibrator money can buy, right? I don’t think I told you the whole story. So I’m at Good Vibrations with my friend. She’s paying for it. Then, the sales clerk tosses a few condoms into the bag and explains, “It’s really important to use condoms with your vibrator. This vibrator is made out of a porous material that collects bacteria.” Now how’s that for a major turn-off? The vibrator has been sitting on my dresser ever since. I still have to get batteries for it, but I’m not too excited about A) using a bacteria-collecting sex device or B) going through the motions of putting a condom on the damn thing before using it. What’s the point?
Last topic for the evening before I go out and get my drink on…I hate when other girls are getting more attention than me. I assume it’s natural to feel this way. Case in point #1: I joined a crowd of my guys friends and one girlfriend (who is married) for drinks the other night. I was the last one to get there, but when I joined the group, you’d think I was non-existent. A few of the guys were kind enough to wave, but immediately went back to staring at my girlfriend. She’s prettier than me, that’s for certain. But I had a lot of good stories to tell that night and no one seemed to care! All of the guys just roared with laughter as she told one stupid story after another, giggling away. I was not pleased as I drank glass after glass of wine. That leads me to a new case. Case in point #2: A friend of a friend has recently moved here to San Francisco. I’m that kind of person who considers all my friends’ friends my own. I’m practically the first to welcome them to the city, encourage them to meet my friends, and network into my own social activities. Now this friend of a friend turns out to be beautiful. I’m talking Miss Universe-kind of beauty. Not only is she beautiful, she’s extremely smart and really nice. Last time we were all together, every single guy turned their head as she walked into the room. I couldn’t take it. So I don’t even want to hang out with her in the future. It’s so bad, but she’s asked if we could hang out…and I don’t want to! I am a jealous girl like that.