This week, DC was at la maison de muah for our annual or pentannual sleepover. KCDC sweated our toxins out in intense bikram, ate it all back in a premenstrual sweetcraving craze, inhaled in pho, and DC became a redhead. So one night we change into sleeping outfits but I guess I never got the memo that like slutty Halloween, girls must look good despite the context/event. A sleepover is apparently not made for sleeping in comfort but for looking cute to your roommates.
So I come downstairs with my lovely Peter Paul and Mary sweater from 1998 bought at a LIVE PPM concert when Mary, RIP, was still belting out her folky ballads. Meeting me downstairs is DC in jock-like mockery. Oh did that girl roll over cackling in her cleverly cut shoulder bare tee. What was strange about this situation was that it was complete dejavu... It happened six years ago junior year. I walk into art class with my Nutcracker sweater of 1996 where I watched the LIVE Nutcracker on Ice. On this amazing sweater was a male nutcracker ballerina doing an amazing prancing jump thing. Greeting me at the door is DC pasted on the table from raging hysterics. 6 years and nothing has changed. So tip to all of you one follower of this blog. Time will not change closemindedness, so embrace your bad sweaters. Because they are your cheesy memories that envelope your dreams. Peace.
