Don’t Wanna Miss a Thang

27 Aug Don’t Wanna Miss a Thang

The past week has been one big instance of ‘is this my life?’

I went to a country concert. And I danced a little bit. But mostly, I sipped my beer. I held the can with a napkin and drank it with a straw and tried not to burp too much. But I stayed and had a good time with my co-worker.

Wearing: Zara Lace Top (similar), Forever 21 Pants, J.Crew Studded Sandals, Tibi Clutch, YSL Provocative Pink lipstick

That was Thursday. The following Tuesday, I went to a rooftop party that Fox was throwing, with every single intention of making a once around, holding a drink and then be out. Instead I found myself laughing and talking with the entertainment editor of Mashable. He came up to me because he loved my pants and he and his friend chatted me up until I forget I was ready to go be a grandma in my worn sweatpants.

My co-worker, who happens to be my job’s entertainment editor, comes in and the four of us continue to shoot the breeze–literally–on the breezy Jimmy rooftop. We head out when this man, I swear, he finds me at every single tech thing I go, starts talking to me about missing the sunset spending so much time in my phone.

“Time ta GO,” I text my co-worker. She has tickets to some barbeque that Hot 97 is throwing, this was my partner-in-crime that got us on the set of the “Picasso Baby” shoot, so I can always expect a good time with her. Except this is a ratchet hot mess and my feet hurt.

I peace out when there is trouble at the door. My feet are killing me and to be honest, I just want to come home and blog. Lord knows, I haven’t written anything for myself and this is the closest thing to a journal for me.

I’m just scared I’m going to miss something. And as Aerosmith so eloquently put it, I don’t wanna miss a thannnng.