It's been a long time since anyone called me a "good girl." Mostly because I maintained a reputation as a cold-hearted bitch all through highschool, and that seemed to stick. That worked out (for the most part) until I moved to Victoria. I decided that for a whole year I would be nice to people so that I would make new friends. In total I made one new friend, and decided that being nice totally wasn't worth it. When I got a new job soon afterwards my co-workers tried to adopt me into their group and for a long time I resisted. I turned down invitations to Monday night bingo (a ritual outing that I would later discover really wasn't my thing), club weekends, and I deigned to invite any of them to my apartment warming party (even though they knew I was having one). Yet for some reason they refused to accept defeat. A certain amount of it was sheer stubborness on their part, but as I found out they were just as bitchy as I was - and in all the right ways! The rest of the Victoria population still got bludgeoned on a daily basis with my "I don't give a fuck" attitude, and slowly they learned that my roster of friends was filled. Then I moved to Halifax, aka friendly people central. It's been almost a year, and I still get random people talking to me on the bus, on the street, and everywhere else I go. Where do they get the idea that I want to hear their stories about their medications, their trip to the Middle East, or their children. Since it's apparent that my bitch-itude is having little affect, and that they're just going to keep talking to me anyways, let's make a compromise: if you're going to randomly start talking to me Haligonians, make the story an interesting one or find someone else to annoy with your inane blathering!
Vintage denim jacket & runners by Guess; Dress by Renee C; Headband by Ardene.