I’ll go all Sex and the City on your ass.

After reading Brooke’s blog, I feel less-than-famous, and am actually quite embarrassed at the display of miniature cow photos below. After all, I work for one of three competing weekly newspapers in the great city of Columbus. I ain’t no coal minor’s daughter. Hell, I’m stringing for a mag that held MONIQUE MING LAVEN on the front cover. And I RENT for criminey’s sake. It’s time to snazz things up a bit. It’s time to hit the town. (Maybe take a taxi?) It’s time to drag that husband of mine to the Arena District. Maybe I’ll pass on the Guinness and order up an apple tartalini or something. Maybe I’ll throw on some uncomfortable shoes, a tiny dress and chat it up with Johnny DiLoretto. Maybe I’ll even be hot enough to finish my drink on the patio. Who’s comin’ with me?!

Now I have to go before I think this through all the way through the night until the next morning. Almost makes me wish I wasn’t bona fide.

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