Rethunk

Just when I think I'd like a life of leather coats and high heels, dining under twinkling lights at nouveau eateries while 700 series BMW's are valet parked outside and the average cost of a bottle of imported blushing wine is more than some people's car payment and I scan the room to see nothing but cash and cashmere, I get a load of the menu and find myself looking at words I've never seen before and having zero inkling to what the fuck all those vowels mashed together mean and my shoes are too tight and my pants are cutting off the circulation in my guts and this small plate of unpronounceable appetizer will be putting a serious dent in my overdrafted credit card and my hair is in fact not glossy and perfect and as I look around I realize that at worst I'm a total poser and have no business being there and at best, while the atmosphere is cool and sheik, I don't like snooty places filled with snootier people and weird food with weird ingredients and I'd rather be hanging out in black yoga pants eating a decadent cheeseburger with fries dripping of ketchup all washed down with a cold diet coke extra ice please sitting on my comfy couch in front of our moderately large TV with my super mega kick-ass boyfriend watching Jason Vorhees in the much underrated Jason X kill people in space by slamming their blond bimbo heads into a sink full of dry ice them smashing their frozen faces into a million icy bits and after the credits roll gettin' some bow chica bow bow with semi-decent porn playing in the background then getting a tender kiss goodnight.

So for anyone who does heals and high-brow, it's cool, but I'll be over here on the sofa with slippers and slurpee's.