I have a very important piece of advice to all the ladies (and some men, no shame) out there: Never tweeze your eyebrows one at a time, just in case you realize half way through that you are running excruciatingly late and yet you have one perfect eyebrow and one raggedy eyebrow. And you promised, promised, promised you wouldn't be late this time. Suddenly instead of having an hour to get ready, you have about forty-five minutes left. Wait, what? Half an hour? Where the hell did those fifteen minutes go? Did you black out? No time to think about it now, just get in that shower, girl. Do you really need to wash your hair today? You won't have time to dry it. Yup. You know you need to. Damn. Do you really need to shave your legs? Oh yeah. Unfortunately you can't make time for the one part of your body that you actually did want to shave today. Next time, girl. You wash your hair, you wash your face, you lather up and pumice away like a madwoman. You shave your legs and you slice open the back of your left knee. You could scream when the boiling hot water hits the wound but you don't have time to focus on the pain, instead the adrenaline rush pushes you forward and sends you over the edge, especially when you realize the water running down your body isn't the only thing making you wet.
You step out and dry off as fast as you can, smearing blood all over your white towel. No time to care. You run back into the bedroom and only then realize you haven't even begun to think about what you're going to wear. Your eyes fix on the black satin Vera Wang until you realize you wore that last time. Come to think of it, you wore black the last two times. No black. No black. Pick any stupid outfit, just no black. Any pair of pants or any skirt and any top or any dress, just no black. You fish through your closet and wonder why you have six different black skirts and three black dresses. You opt not to wear pants lest your knee bleeds through khaki or seersucker. Finally you grab the outfit you'd planned to wear on the Fourth of July before you decided to sleep through it instead. You zip up the skirt, you button the shirt, you tie off the belt, you slide on the sling backs, grab your purse and run out the door. No time for makeup and you'll have to let the wind dry your hair. You rifle through your purse as you make your way out: Credit card? Keys? Cell phone? Cigarettes? Check, check, check, check. Yes, you pulled it off. You're stepping into your car at the exact moment you'd intended. Damn, you left Roxanne (your GPS device that you've named for the sexy voice you have programmed into it) charging inside. You pause for a moment and run back in to grab it. You're likely to be an hour late without it, although you've already made the drive a few times before. As you roll down the driveway, Roxanne instructs you to make a right and tells you that you will arrive at your destination at 8:32. You speed up until the bottom right corner of the screen reads 8:29. You're safe to speed until you reach the county line. You light a cigarette and realize you only have three left. You speed up more until the bottom right corner of the screen reads 8:25, just as you make your way into a foreign county. A smaller, simpler county, with no way to make money besides traffic tickets. You ease up a little bit.
You pull into a little country gas station where a couple of young punks are working and nearly thrilled by your presence, with your exposed tattoos and vintage pin-upesque outfit. It's not every day they get to see the likes of you in this town. One of them makes nervous small talk while your credit card processes and the other one is quick to say, "Bye, beautiful. Have a good day," as you turn to leave. You turn back and give the kids a wink, maybe gazing slightly too long at the shy one. You walk back to your car wondering if you should have encouraged them, realizing they're both bound to be heart breakers once they get a little older, if they're not already. You check on Roxanne and she reassures you that will be parking your car 8:29. Sure enough, you are knocking on the door precisely at 8:30, silently congratulating yourself. You're soon greeted by Slave who informs you that Master is taking a shower and you can't help but laugh to yourself.
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