Doin’ it dirty, one more time. And by one more, I mean until they physically stop letting me in.
The dirty sixth and I are pretty close. Actually, it is probably the most reliable relationship I’ve had. It may have taken my money, a phone or two, and my dignity, but at least it’s consistent. And we always have a good laugh! Like that time I thought I could stomp walk through Peckerheads like I owned the place, but instead slipped in front of everyone, almost taking out an innocent sorostitute and covering half my body in dirt in the process. Or that time I seductively approached some guy at the bar to try and get a free shot, only to discover he was Margeaux’s very persistent, grammatically-challenged suitor (stalker?).
I realized this morning as I pulled myself out of bed and drove to work that my dirty days are nearing an end. But I never doing anything half-way (no really. I’ve been packing my lunch and laying out my clothes for school the night before since I was eight. Yeah, I’m that girl.) So I can promise you, this last year sixth and I will be doing it big.
Go big or go home, right?