Flight to the Phoenix

The missed call from the Honks came at two-thirty-six of the wee hours. Which was just about eleven-half in the morning where I am, rushing around room to room, session after session.

I think the boys are all drunk and happy at Tiesto.

I am really beginning to miss the boys. =/


Here at the desert, I am loving the sun in the day, but also hating the fact that I am drying up like a prune at an accelerated pace and sporting some really fugly tan-lines on the face, from breakfasting and lunching with my sunnies on.

How the fuck could I have forgotten my bikini?