dearest rick,
words cannot describe how excited i was to read this today:
i mean, come on…the grove AND you?! together?!
+
=
but my dearest…FOUR hours to prepare for our first meeting (well, second if you count the concert where you walked past me and high-fived my undeserving brother)?! despite my piles of clothing on my floor closet full of clothing, i have absolutely nothing cute to wear! and i might have been a bit lax on the whole ‘shaving my legs’ thing this week. and today’s accidental overuse of hair product has led to, hands down, my top 5 worst hair days ever.
but for you, ricky, wild horses couldn’t keep me away. racing home, i nearly ran over a pedestrian…although, i guess technically he wasn’t a pedestrian as he was in a wheelchair. once home, i attempted to flat iron the bad hair day out of my tresses to no avail. and while busting out the new liquid eyeliner seemed like a great idea, the resulting black ink on both my cornea and berber carpet has me second-guessing that decision.
refusing to yield to defeat, i decided that i could drive with one functioning eye and that my loyal friend, mr. ponytail holder, would alleviate the ever-worsening hair disaster. and, fingers crossed, my cute platform sandals might distract you from my unsightly squinting (lol…unsightly…get it?!).
pre-pirate patch
and the fact that i had only 22 minutes to get there? well, let’s just say that i wasn’t going to be all nice and yield-y with those entitled pedestrians like earlier. i mean come on…it’s LA. drive already!
so you can imagine my shock when halfway there, i realized i had left my flat iron on…and it had been precariously resting on a wooden surface. and you’re probably asking, “did i turn around and abort my rick mission?” oh hell to the no! burning down my apartment and losing everything i own is but a small price to pay for our love.
i’m happy to report that the traffic gods were good to us me, and i arrived to the grove with 10 minutes to spare. i raced down the escalator, taking care to only push aside the non-elderly. and while i tripped right outside of the bookstore, it was nothing like fall i was about to experience. entering nirvana our barnes and noble, i immediately asked the security guard for you. and the foulest two words in the history of the english language rolled off his tongue: “he left”. while my ankle throbbed from the fall, it was only a fraction of the pain i felt in my heart.
so now i’m going to drag my battered and bruised body home to figure out how to get eyeliner out of carpet cry myself to sleep as i listen to this on repeat.
that is, if it hasn’t burnt down.
scorned,
your coco
