Wait, it's what day?

you know how you know you've been travelling too many hours in one day?

When in the middle of being out that evening you ask someone what day it is.

My day started at 5am central time with a drive to the airport where I'd have my cavities properly checked and my damn blackberry jam taken away. Fuckers. I loved that jam.

Don't worry, I LOVE taking off all my jewelry, belts, earrings, shoes, underwear (it was a travel date, I figured I'd wear some), and anything else remotely removable. It only takes 45 minutes to put it all back on. I thought the xray scanner was effin OPTIONAL.

Anyway. Two hours to Houston, 15 minutes between flights IN Houston's large ass airport (I got my cardio workout for the day right there!), and three and a half more hours to LAX...and I had touched down in this gray dirt hole. It was 2pm and I was exhausted from some turbulant air on both flights.

Had to wait a bit but I finally got my exhausted ass home around 4pm.

Any logical human being would get home, shower and sleep...right?

Right. Well, I'm anything but rational. I got home, showered, laid down and immediately got invited to go out tonight.

Here came another opportunity to say "you know? I'm ok tonight, I think I'll just rest a bit."

Not me. I just asked what time I needed to be ready.

Doing everything BUT sleeping between this time and when I needed to be ready, I got all pretty and was ready to do something as long as it didn't involve me making good decisions.

East/West Lounge in West Hollywood seemed like the best decision.

2am and we are hungry. It's BURGER TIME!

Apparently my fat kid DIDN'T stay in Nashville as I'd hoped.

It's 3am and our driver, my amazing cousin, had a drink tonight so who better to drive us all home safely than a sleep deprived, stuffed to the gills ME?

Surprisingly, we all made it home safely and in one piece. Thanks to my wonderful Cadillac driving skills.

Y'all are welcome. Now what the fuck day is it?!