SPOTTED:

Pam actually put down her drill and paint brush last night and let a gentleman take her out on the town. Thank god I didn't actually run into anyone I knew. In case you were wondering, three martinis on an empty stomach will, in fact, get you trashed no matter what your tolerance is.

You know, some day I plan on writing my memoirs. Well after my mother's dementia has fully set in and I'm certain she'll never read them. In the mean time, I've been keeping what are sometimes very detailed, but more often reminiscent of Hunter S. Thompson's convoluted notes. Both in content and execution. I hope I haven't left anything out. And I remember everything because damn. This shit is golden. Between my girls and myself, we've got some amazing stories. Really, even I'm fascinated and I was there. That's not just our collective vanity speaking. Speaking of vanity, did you hear? I'm a pretentious, ego-maniacal whore. Or at least I read that on the St. Pete telephone wire. Le Sigh. I hate this town all most as much as I love it.

In other news, my birthday falls on Easter this year. Appropriate. Celebrate the end of lent with me over birthday bloody marys and Easter egg hunts.

you know you love me.
xoxo

So.

I put in my notice. In the next two months I will somehow curate two shows, rent out my house, sell all of my belongs and get on a plane to Paris. Then NYC. Then NYU. I'm not really sure what is going to happen but come hell or high water, a battered and bruised Pammy will wash up on the shores of JFK's landing strip.

Additionally, things I learned this week: I have no will power and engage in destructive behaviors. Also, H&M is very dangerous to my mastercard. Also, Atlanta is fun and Orlando can suck it. It's cool though. That one guy outside of Panera told me to stay sweet, and that kind of made my day. Any residual aspirations for a rock star life are quashed and I will now commence my grown up life. Well, in theory.

Thanks for the memories.

xoxo