Every time the radio plays Pour some sugar on me I envision the pole dance I would perform if...my beautiful house had come equipped with a pole.
(Well, I had the strobe light..)
Ben comes home IN! TEN! HOURS!
Yay!
Sunday? Don't phone, I plan to barricade myself in his arms and sleep all damn day long. Why not tomorrow? Tomorrow sucks. They're coming to take the pictures for the listing. No, I will not be posting the link. Seriously you people.
Go think about Bridget pole dancing instead. You know you want to.
