Question for the Universe

If you put three cookies in a bag but then they crumble...and then you eat the crumbs...does it count?

I mean, its only crumbs...right?

Hostage.

Ever park your car near a Starbuck's so you can access their wireless internet in an attempt to try and break free from the five UNassembled bridesmaid dresses that are holding you hostage in your apartment with their silent mocking when all you WANT to do is go back to your couch and shovel yogurt covered pretzels in your mouth while guzzling wine while trying to sort out the rest of your life?

WELL THEN. 


GFY.  

Dreams

Speaking of dreams, it feels as if this manufacturer went into my head and ripped this appliance right out of dreams.  See?  Dallas can't give me pancakes, bacon and coffee at the same time.  

My abusive boyfriend, Dallas.

Dallas Texas to be exact.  And while he might be lovely for millions of people, he and I just do not get along.

We've been together for eight plus years and I have finally had enough.

Since the beginning, he's had this wonderful way of luring me in with promises of happiness and adventure, huge success and shiny trinkets.  An elusive carrot.  Filled with the most decadent flavors and alluring sweetness, so Dallas says.  And then every time I am thisclose to having it all, or even some of it, I find myself broken and disappointed.  Dallas beats me up with my own shattered dreams.  And even then, exhausted and disappointed, he still manages to reel me back in with a promise of something amazing just around the corner.  Again with the carrot.  The ever-dangling out-of-reach carrot.  

Always, just around the corner.  Always, if I can pull myself together long enough this one last time to see if I can grab all the fulfillment it promises.

But this time, I'm saying no.  This time I'm moving on.

Goodbye, Dallas. 

Escape!

After 2,646 days of prison.  I am free.  


FREE.


Now to start the Rest of My Life, Chapter II.  


And-ah here-ah we go-ah...

Miss Butler wants to see you :-)

And then there is this:

Good Ol' Fashion-ed Fun.

Emphasis on the fashion.

Ain't nothing like hanging out with the creative directors and CEO of my favorite fashion label at a gay bar while a shirtless cowboy serves me Corona and a gaggle of men in tank tops butcher "Summer Loving" on karaoke night. 

It was exactly how the fairy tales described it. 

Its like they always say, "You never know when you'll find yourself shamelessly begging for a job to a bunch of Italians who don't understand you while flannel-clad women belt out "I Kissed A Girl", so always be prepared."

Such a cliché.