Nevergirl’s

So okay, I need a pretty bike, and some pretty girl friends to go riding around town with. No, wait. That’s not right. I already have pretty girl friends by the truckloads; they just don’t live here. I think I’ll go make an ad recruiting girl friends. Thus far, the only women my age that I have seen about town are full-time mothers and housewives, bankers, and teachers. This is why I haven’t made friends with anyone yet hereabouts. I can’t seem to “fall” into any demographic, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone who shares my interests.

Any takers?

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First, I slammed the door on my finger. Then, I tripped on one of the huge slabs of marble near the garden, and ended up sprawled in the most humiliating way possible on the footbridge. Finally, I lathered gel on my face all because I’m an arrogant multi-tasker who thought she could scroll through a long list of keywords with her right hand, slap on gel with her left hand, and carry a conversation with two people at the same time. Now, my sinuses are acting up. I might have to beg off the socials later because I’m dead certain by 5pm, my nose will have turned into the size and color of a beautifully ripe tomato.

In case this isn’t clear to you just yet, there are two things that will always be true about me:

1. I talk and think at the speed of light.
2. I’m only graceful under very controlled circumstances, much like certain types of amoeba.

I think I’ll spend the rest of the day in bed so I don’t endanger my life and limbs more than I already have.

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High heels make me taller, true, but they also make me look like

1. I’m walking like I’m part of the Moon landing.
2. I’m a jellyfish on stilts.
3. I’m wearing underwear made of sandpaper.
4. I’m the Tin Man or a less-flexible member of the Tin family.

And wow, I do not sound whiny at all. Hahaha!

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