If anyone needs a good night/day/week of rest, it's me. I'd settle for just one night of sound sleep, but this requires three preexisting conditions: 1. An actual bed, not a futon, not an air mattress; 2. The luxury of sleeping ALONE; 3. "Inception" not happening from the moment I shut my eyes. Seemingly simple to achieve, but this girl has found it frustratingly difficult. I guess it's my fault for trying to pack 4 months of LA fun in a mere 2 weeks, but that's what any sane person would do right? Back me up here. These last minute memories are crucial to reflect on when shit gets real in London. I'll remember how laidback I've become and how all of this partying madness has wreaked havoc on my body. I could only hope, pray, that all the growing up I've done will not be entirely erased from my memory upon setting foot in, jesus h. christ, EUROPE. It could either go "Jersey Shore" or "Real World," either way, I better be damn prepared and well-equipped with all the self-control/will power/lord's good graces I've racked up.
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