Days to B.E.E.R.: 3
Pieces of luggage needed to transport first draft of vacation wardrobe: 14
At this point, I may as well just move to Montreal. Ok? Ok? It's getting ridiculous. I've somehow planned to bring enough just-in-case outfits to survive a year of Hollywood extravaganzas, in sub-zero weather; in Amazonian heat wave weather; with a date; without a date; in case my date is Ewan McGregor; and in case he wants to go camping afterwards. Actually, that's not true. Mare-Ingenii doesn't camp. She's a rustic virgin. There are no camping outfits. But I do have Gyneth-Paltrow-daytime-prep-school-princess-about-town outfits, and Christina-Ricci-about-to-do-naughty-things-to-strangers outfits and Audrey-Hepburn-holding-a-martini-and-chatting-in-that-fabulous-accent outfits, and and I have all the purses to match.
I may need another piece of luggage.
* * *
I suddenly find myself in a rush. Real life calls, and it's starting to tap it's foot impatiently.
More later, poppets. Remind me to tell you about the wee bit of debauchery in which I dabbled.
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