I know you're jealous of my slippers.
Last night I went to a house party in Venice (if by "went to" you'll accept: stood awkwardly outside on the phone until my one friend retrieved me from the curb and introduced me to all of his already drunk friends who were watching Animal Planet) and as I was leaving, circa midnight, a car with Pennsylvania license plates was coming down the street. I was standing at my car as he passed and the "gentleman" yelled out of his window "Damn! They wasn't lyin' when they said California girls was fine! DAMN!". I wasn't really sure where this was headed so I hopped into the batmobile pretty quickly and locked the doors, u-turned, and got the eff out of there (just kidding, I got super lost and it took me almost an hour to get home). However, yes, however, I felt that that guy was going to drive home to Pittsburgh or Philadelphia or wherever he's from in Pennsylvania and have the wrong impression. I thought about pulling a double u-turn and following him to inform him that "they WAS lyin'" because I was most certainly not a California girl (at least not yet...) and that he needn't look further than the great metropolitan city just two (three? one? four?) hours northeast of his hometown to find such fine-ass specimens like myself. If he wants a California girl I'll happily direct him to the nearest Best Buy to purchase the Katy Perry album.
Sayonara, mates! Off to sell cupcakes off of a food truck. Yup. Employment calls and it's a beautiful thing.