emergence of the hippo skank

I just love it when I decide to make a rush trip to Walmart for a few items. This afternoon, like many other of these rush trips, I've got freshly-washed-but-not-blowdried hair, a 1996 postal-worker-food-drive shirt with roast beef spilled upon a boob, too-long-jeans-with-so-sexy-rolled-cuff, and a fresh face (without a whiff of makeup). I'm standing in the pharmacy aisles, looking for knock-off immodium when the ballroom dancing fellow strolls along the main aisle. Like a good southern girl, horrified that I have been caught in public in such a state, but still have the intention of asking "and how's your momma and them" before he has full chance to comment on my state of being. I even somehow invite him to the ABDA dances on first and third Saturdays and say that I look forward to seeing him Friday for cha-cha lessons. He says, "not if we see each other before then."
Hippo Skank Fashion! Works every time!

More Turtle Race Reading

I'm on track to read four books this year!
The latest completion: On Call


Book I've got on the bedside table now:  Wasted