Friday, May 07, 2004
Intruder... Intruder.
Hello, this is not the Sarah that you have grown to know and love.
On the contrary, dear Reader. You do not know me at all. I am but a slightly tanned and completely freckled girl, sitting in the midst of a sea of blue plush carpet. A little anxious, a little scared. I'd like to stay as incognito as possible, so I pull the brim of my black hat down a little bit more over my forehead. I really think that is what has made all the difference.
So this post is not completely irrelevant, I'll just let you know that today, Sarah, or... Pinky, as I happen to call her, is wearing blue jeans and a green polo shirt. She made me a sandwich. I ate it all, with flair, crust excluded.
We wink at each other often, hug more so than that. Conversation is peppered with giggles and the well-placed sly comment. Oh yes. So sly. She sat perched on her kitchen counter, talking to a very specific Swede, as I engaged in an elaborate performance, accented with pirouettes and tippytoes. Time is up.
As for Pinky, all I can say is this. Love her or hate her... admit it.
You're addicted.
. celebrate . `@ 9:14 PM
