You know what? Six hours with massive hooters is enough to make me appreciate not having to deal with those sons of bitches most of the time. Jesus.

Two observations, if I may. Some men are peculiarly bothered by men in drag. I think that's funny, and I hope one day they get to try some good ole homosexual lovin, 'cause it makes me think that's what they're afraid of and thus crave. Second? It is fucking weird to look at someone and catch them looking at your boobs. Even if they're not actually boobs, but large grapefruit in a bra.

I lied. Two more. Fake nails hurt. It's obnoxious when you give someone a ride home who you've met at least twice previously, and they get out of the car and say, "It was nice meeting you."

But on the bright side, I had a note stuck to my front door when I got home. My passport is ready, and in Mesa, so it looks like I won't end up missing my trip to France after all. Yee haw!!!