i wanted to write a funny, interesting, probably kind of manic and definitely run-on sentence filled post about how much i fucking love DC, including but not limited to paragraphs regarding my heroic intake of patron, sipping spiced rum and cider in the jacuzzi, downing xanax and lorazepam to combat the following hangover anxiety demons, making out with friends, reconnecting with friends, remembering that i have the best friends in the world, and the fact that i got the fucking sickest pair of L.A.M.B. heels at Saks. ( i was going to try to describe the shoes but realized that would be impossible. Can you describe the face of an angel? Can you describe the caress of a pegasus' wings against a rainbow? there are no words good enough for the hotness that is these shoes. so instead i took a crappy picture on my blackberry.)

even in this grainy blackberry photo you can tell that these shoes are clearly the ruler of the world.

now i'm back at home. in reality. opened the pile of bills on my desk, had lunch with the business partner, took the dogs out, listened to the best fucking drum and bass album ever produced while thinking about the old days doing key bumps on my way to FIVE, and listlesly unpacked almost six of the 3,984,579,238,475 things in my suitcase before i completely gave in to my restlessness and said fuck it. why am i living so far from the people i love and am energized by? for my career? for the potential of a solid financial future? shouldn't i care more about being happy and surrounded by fam on the daily instead? why am i not buying a townhouse in the Mission, living in San Francisco and making my dreams a reality? why am i not moving to DC like, tomorrow, and again, living my life like each day is all i have?

and seriously, what the FUCK am i doing in New Jersey?