So, I know I owe you (ok, well, me, but still) a few apologies for late posts, skipping posts, throwing up photo posts as cop outs and the like, but instead of groveling or any form of sincerity, I’ve decided to brazen myself right on through it.
Assholes.
Moving right along.
If you didn’t vote today, lie and tell me you did. That, or remind me you’re from a country more enlightened than mine.
Election day is, of course, highly important, if only right now because it comes as the first non-hangover day for most fun-loving and/or douchey adults in the United States.
There are a lot of douches. Hate that.
I myself have no hangover, which is relatively sad, because it is further evidence of my curtailed activities in the face of the THREE WEEK HEADACHE FROM HELL. Which has been determined to not be the bacterial sinus infection that earned me two shots of ridiculopainful medication IN MY ASS (jerks!) and one healthy prescription of lortab (angels!).
Of course, I say all of this (lortabbed out) really only to introduce the following photographs.
You’re welcome.
my kind of tea party
the most important part of the evening, of course, was the preparation.
it took a great many hands to lace me into the corset.
and a knee.
no, really. knee to the back.
KNEEEEEEEEEE.
i fear my breasts will never look at me the same way again.
of course, you've met alice.
she's adorable, even while laughing through cupcake.
even the ol' alice side-eye is sweet.
and you'd know this cheshire kazz anywhere.
she's hard to miss, really.
there's a world of nutso behind those eyes. you're surprised, i know.
my mad hatter, unfortunately, appears to have a case of the camera shys. most unusual.
that, or somehow we all happened to hog the camera from him. surely not.
the most inventive of all costumes, however, was this rendition of the bard himself, zombie female lewis carroll.
no better a lewis carroll have i ever seen, frankly.
which leaves, of course, your queen. in a series of...
the most flattering photos...
ever.
this is my kind of tea party.
There was this one photograph, a black-&-white, of a young girl in pigtails that sat over my grandfather’s chair in my mother’s parents’ house in Memphis when I was growing up.
It was a beautiful photo, and I loved the look on the girl’s face. It sought approval while smiling, coyly.
Mostly, I think I loved it because I always thought it was me.
my lovely mama
little mer
Surely you can understand my confusion.
After all, the world does revolve around me. Right?
