Thursday, June 4, 2009

36 hours and counting

I'm looking across my hotel room to my made up bed at 9am. Nope. I shore didn't sleep in it. Nope, I sat on the couch at the end of it with both of my computers out and advancing every summer show I had. Toured the new house I'm renting with my gay husbands. Shopped on Amazon for my Boo. Packed. Showered. Lathered my leather still sunburned skin. Listened to Roberta Flack 4 times. Yelled at Talent careening down the hall with her London peeps. And Ichatted. What the fuck is it about London this trip that leads me to insomnia? Sure just 4 days ago i was 11 hours behind here. But that was FOUR DAYS AGO. I think this is what they call age. At one time I could globetrot without missing a beat. And while no beats where missed, my body is shore nuff tired. And nothing in particular happened in London to excite me. A flurry of French waiters in each restaurant, but I wasn't up on my game. Too sleepy. Then I get to my room and stay up all night. I NEVER stay up all night. Not even to cram in college.

SO I'm going to get on this bloody plane and knock myself out, literally, all the way to Philly.

Roots 2nd Annual Picninc this Saturday June 6th.



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