Photo;Shandra Beri
My only point is that when you are so tired that the only option seems to be straight home to bed, but your hilarious and charming friends wrangle you into a Cosmopolitan or two there is a distinct chance that you will wake up the next morning with hoarse vocal chords and tender obliques from hours of helpless laughter and quiet possibly have vague memories of shoes being pried off to support the part of the story that had to do with someone's feet being particularly pretty (which was true...) as reason enough to be wriggled tantalizing inches from a boys nose.
I regret nothing.
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