Mambo Mondays at Ball & Chain tonight and I can't find a single matching earring — this red dress already knows the horns don't let it last long anyway. Come be my good-luck charm, papi. 😈
Mambo Mondays at Ball & Chain tonight and I can't find a single matching earring — this red dress already knows the horns don't let it last long anyway. Come be my good-luck charm, papi. 😈
Halloween is officially in the laundry pile and my closet looks like a costume store exploded — the wings survived, barely. Tell me which one earns a rerun next year, papi.
I should still be asleep, but the Picasso and Matisse show at PAMM opens in a few hours and my brain won't stop planning which gallery to hit first. Come pull me back under these sheets, papi.
Half a costume, a hundred safety pins, and the Lincoln Road block party waiting for me tonight — this is going down to the wire. Come hold the fabric while I stitch, papi. 😈
The Wynwood block party walked me all the way home and my angel costume lost everything but the wings somewhere in that crowd. Tell me the halo still works, papi. 😈
Hocus Pocus at Factory Town tonight and I'm already three ribs deep into skeleton paint — this is taking forever because I keep getting distracted. Come hold the brush for me, papi. 😈
Giselle wants velvet tonight and I've been testing every scrap against bare skin since I got home — none of it survived the fitting. Come tell me which piece stays on, papi. 😈
Bad Gyal is at the Fillmore tonight and my whole kitchen playlist already belongs to her. I'm still in yesterday's tee hunting through the fridge for breakfast — come pour my juice, papi.
Queen Miami Beach runs a Halloween party tonight and my devil costume is winning before I've even zipped it up. One boot on, horns on, judgment pending — how's it looking from over there, baby?
The Linda Lindas are at Culture Room tonight, so the fishnets met my scissors before the tee did — punk prep is a whole-body sport. Come hold my jacket in the pit, papi 😈