That's basically how I feel after an eleven hour shift. I sit on my floor and count my tips and smile and rub my sore legs in bliss. The only difference is I don't (often) get sleazed on nor am I saving up to go to ballet school because I am not limber enough to touch my toes.
But you get the idea.
Also, new provocative ad from American Apparel.
Oh la la, quelle trash / artsy porn.
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