He doesn't mind I have a Las Vegas past, he doesn't mind I have a L.A crass way about me

 [wearing Monki bra, Solara bikini bottom, vintage shirt & boots, Medina cuff and sunnies]

Maybe it's the sleep deprivation, the nightly concert escapades (Mawazine♥), or the fact that I can't figure out whether I have been drinking too much or not enough, but my restlessness has reached an all time high. I'm itching to be near the water again, and seriously considering my options: a.) crash at a house avec pool or b.) buy a bathtub.. The good news is, I have started singing in the shower again. You laugh, but that is quite the accomplishment for someone like me. Maybe it's the Ice Cream Truck Song or maybe I have run out of reasons to be unhappy. For now, anyway.

I seem to be spending a lot of time talking to my girl friends about man problems.. still/always. As someone with the outsider perspective, it is easy to dish out advice, and tell it like it is, but I recognize my old self in many of their actions, and at this point I feel nothing but relief about my new found single status. It's like I can breathe, for once. The only people I can bring myself to share a bed with is the gang from Entourage, and everything edible I can find in my fridge, so staying in bed all day in my pajamas has climbed up to the top of my favorite things to do ever - right after kitesurfing and kissing. 

Speaking of kissing.. that heart up there makes me giggle in disbelief. What possessed me to draw a heart on my palm, I can't explain, but if you think it has anything to do with love, you are way off.

The only hearts I see these days are those I see in my games of poker. Nothing like the thrill of risk taking, the sweet smell of money and the temporary high of winnings to take you out of the redundant loop. I can imagine this outfit coming across as strategically well thought out, considering the shirt lends just about as much coverage as a zip-lock bag. Practical, if your poker face needs some brushing up on.. Who needs a poker face when you are sitting at a texas holdem table of easily distracted testosterone driven creatures, with an outfit like this? [Pants optional, but recommended, unless you are pulling a Lady Gaga.] 

And speaking of hearts.. Those boots cost me a ridiculous euro at the flea market. Who had their doubts about me finding vintage heaven in Rabat? Doubt no more.. :)