Obviously I was still drunk yesterday morning, when the stellar idea of posting a picture of my chest sounded like a excellent way to make up for me running into the cripple...errr handicapped individual. And for the record, I wasn't laughing at him. I was laughing at myself, because only I, Ryleigh Thorne, could manage to walk right into dysfunctional legs strapped into a wheel chair. Then, be laughing so hard at myself that it completely takes the sentiment out of my apology. Yep, I'm straight up assy.

Mr. Not-so-anonymous-commenter-A is correct in saying, I woke up yesterday and my little round, three legged, cheap ass piece of shit table that sits next to my bed was destroyed. Since alcohol decided to kick some holes in my memory, I can only guess that I was tossing and turning in my sleep, and managed to knock it over. And yes, I did wake up naked. What can I say?! Happy Naked Fun Time, is still fun even when I'm by myself.

While I've never dressed like a skank, or been employed as a prostitute, classy is probably something I'll never be. I cuss worse than a sailor, and you never really know what I'm going to do next.... hells, I never know what I'm going to do next. As I sit right now, I have on my ghetto orange shorts and a t-shirt that's three sizes to big for me, which came into my possession three years ago when I got smacked up side the head with it. Damn t-shirt launcher.. did you have to pick my head.. in the middle of a convention? My face is dirty with last nights make-up, and the strong oder of stale beer, and bar is seeping from my pores. Sounds sexy right? But come tomorrow, I'll be dressed to the nines, in freshly pressed clothing, ready to face another day of corporate America. Will I be classy? No, not at all. Tomorrow will be just another day in my very real game of pretend.