Last Saturday night, while blasting the Salt-N-Pepa station on Pandora, I took one last look in the mirror before heading to a party. My hair was the right amount of tousled. My slip dress and satin smoking jacket were on point. My black Vans howled, “whimsical comfort” at the super moon. I was red lipstick ready and eager to Shoop-oop-a-doop.
Upon arrival, I was ushered onto the private deck of a beachside bar. Think bungalow’s, bartenders, a decadent spread of food, and hilarious friends. And yet, the following thoughts tsunami’ed into my brain:
So and So’s …Read More