Comfortable With Conformity

July 16th

I want my own apartment. I want orange walls with a giant yellow couch shaped like an "S" so you can sit on either side of it. One side would face the TV, the other side would face the dining area. I want an orange Flokati carpet, one of those really shaggy ones that feels good on your feet. I want a Zen-feeling, with a special place to do yoga in my bedroom. I want to serve my guests cheese platters and chocolate-covered strawberries. I want to parade around, alone, in my Calvin Klein panties and tank top with a body like Rachel's. I want my own dishwashing liquid, my own shampoo and conditioner. I want my own stash of diet Cokes and Oasis Bars in the refrigerator. I want a big bed with a white goose down comforter, even though I live in Miami and down gets really hot. I want Tori, Bjork, Natalie Merchant, Bic Runga and Poe on rotation in my stereo. I want guests to comment how lovely my place is and I want them to secretly wish they could decorate as nice as I could. I want to make it a Blockbuster night with S and watch non-action movies and eat low-fat popcorn. I want my sister to come over and turn green with envy when she looks in my closet at all my new clothes. I want my ex-boyfriends to drop by and gawk at my toned body.

This time, next year, baby.

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