Hurting from Head to Toe

My brain aches. I spent last night drinking cocktails while the feds looked on. One showed me his gun. Have I mentioned how much I love me some cops?

And by gun, I mean his .40-caliber Glock, not whatever he's packing inside his pants. But maybe we'll get to that.

4 cocktails + 3 hours in 3-inch heels = hurty feet. And a slight hangover. I followed that up with a day at the tradeshow. In 3-inch wedges.

Have I mentioned I'm retarded? At least I didn't drink today. The one wine vendor had his permit pulled. So he couldn't serve me alcohol, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Tomorrow there's the rooftop party. More cocktails!

But maybe I'll just show up in flats.