--
and all that jazz!
--

all these air-kissing rituals are driving me up the wall.

stop.

i stand in the corner, quietly molesting the stem of my glass of pretentious pellegrino, observing the circus i call the media.

i hate pellegrino! who the fuck drinks water that tastes like carbonated alkali? is it only because requesting for "sparkling water" sounds more chic? ( yes. )

as i stiffened a sleeping leg a wedgie is formed and with two discreet fingers i coax the offending fabric out from the clench of my tight ass.