Fall From Grace Read Online Free
Author: Kelly Hogan
to soothing red teas and a simple, yet very European (of corse), mixed menu of cheesy Panini's and yummy salads.
The best part for me though is Mrs. Castillos' passion for the arts. She goes full throttle to support the local scene and hosts regular open mic nights for the aspiring, and not always terrible, regional talent. One whole wall is fully dedicated to beautiful art installations that change monthly. It could be anything from abstract oils to gritty photography. She isn't afraid to take a chance and sometimes the pieces can be quite controversial according to the tight-assed Alessa Herald. That is why I love her though – she doesn't care what anyone thinks and continues to showcase talented & sometimes pretentious artists.
If I had a Mom I would want her to be just like Mrs. Castillo. She's warm and welcoming and so beautiful in that classic way, sorta like Juliete Binoche in Chocolat . Always pulled together. So unlike me. Makes me wonder what a terrible train wreck my Mom was.
We don't have time to sit and chill today so we grab our drinks and I high tail it back to work just in time to see Rob flexing his biceps for Marla. I feel so fortunate to have caught that.
Chapter 3
Hot Ski Pants Are Not For the Faint Of Heart
This is why I LOVE dressing up. I get to look goofy on purpose and really the funnier the better; you never want to be the lame ass at a party who doesn't bring their 'A' game. I uncovered my pink shiny leggings that are thick enough to double as ski pants. I think I wore these as Jane Fonda last year. Leg warmers are a must and I do sheepishly admit they were in my regular closet of clothes. I also found a white puffy vest with a faux fur collar, when did I wear THAT?
I continue on with my bang tease, this sucker has got to be frozen stiff in the middle of a tornado. I picked up some ear muffs in the shape of bunnies at the local dollar store on my way home but I've got to get the bangs and gigantic pony to work seamlessly with the muffs or it'll bug me all night long.
I googled some make up shots when I got home from work, apparently a neon yellow stripe across the cheek was the height of fashion back in the day. I look like I was run over by a road-line painting truck. A huge cloud of Final Net envelops me as I hack up a lung, feeling the ozone opening right back up. A final survey of myself in my mirror makes me do a double take. Wow, our decade is just dullsville compared to the 80's. Don't get me wrong, I look ridiculous, but I give them props for their adventurous spirit and bold use of colour.
I hear the doorbell and do a final hustle to get downstairs. I grab my fanny pack (were they really serious about this?), and swing the door shut behind me. As I fly down the stairs, I burst into hysterics as soon as I hit the stone foyer. I guess I was expecting a short tight slutty number, but ho no she has a way of always keeping me guessing. A pink puffy nightmare stops me in my tracks; think Michelin man meets Pricilla Queen of the Desert. I can't believe Mrs. Castillo actually wore that, she always seems so pulled together. Maybe the French are good at everything but choosing cool ski wear. She is so going to sweat bullets in that thing.
She pirouettes and prances up and down the living room like she's on a catwalk, busting with attitude and pouting her hot fuchsia lips, ending in a top model pose that would make Tyra Banks Holla. Flipping up her bright yellow ski goggles to see me better, she tightens her side pony which is teased almost as much as my bangs.
"Well hell, I wish I would have done a racing stripe too," she whines, "well done Miss Grace, as always," she admits with a smile, eyeing me up and down. "I suppose I'm just going to have to wow them with my stunning portrayal of pink cool whip." Flipping her pony over her shoulder she pulls out her gloss and does a quick touch up in the last chance mirror by the door.
"Back in the day I would have killed
The best part for me though is Mrs. Castillos' passion for the arts. She goes full throttle to support the local scene and hosts regular open mic nights for the aspiring, and not always terrible, regional talent. One whole wall is fully dedicated to beautiful art installations that change monthly. It could be anything from abstract oils to gritty photography. She isn't afraid to take a chance and sometimes the pieces can be quite controversial according to the tight-assed Alessa Herald. That is why I love her though – she doesn't care what anyone thinks and continues to showcase talented & sometimes pretentious artists.
If I had a Mom I would want her to be just like Mrs. Castillo. She's warm and welcoming and so beautiful in that classic way, sorta like Juliete Binoche in Chocolat . Always pulled together. So unlike me. Makes me wonder what a terrible train wreck my Mom was.
We don't have time to sit and chill today so we grab our drinks and I high tail it back to work just in time to see Rob flexing his biceps for Marla. I feel so fortunate to have caught that.
Chapter 3
Hot Ski Pants Are Not For the Faint Of Heart
This is why I LOVE dressing up. I get to look goofy on purpose and really the funnier the better; you never want to be the lame ass at a party who doesn't bring their 'A' game. I uncovered my pink shiny leggings that are thick enough to double as ski pants. I think I wore these as Jane Fonda last year. Leg warmers are a must and I do sheepishly admit they were in my regular closet of clothes. I also found a white puffy vest with a faux fur collar, when did I wear THAT?
I continue on with my bang tease, this sucker has got to be frozen stiff in the middle of a tornado. I picked up some ear muffs in the shape of bunnies at the local dollar store on my way home but I've got to get the bangs and gigantic pony to work seamlessly with the muffs or it'll bug me all night long.
I googled some make up shots when I got home from work, apparently a neon yellow stripe across the cheek was the height of fashion back in the day. I look like I was run over by a road-line painting truck. A huge cloud of Final Net envelops me as I hack up a lung, feeling the ozone opening right back up. A final survey of myself in my mirror makes me do a double take. Wow, our decade is just dullsville compared to the 80's. Don't get me wrong, I look ridiculous, but I give them props for their adventurous spirit and bold use of colour.
I hear the doorbell and do a final hustle to get downstairs. I grab my fanny pack (were they really serious about this?), and swing the door shut behind me. As I fly down the stairs, I burst into hysterics as soon as I hit the stone foyer. I guess I was expecting a short tight slutty number, but ho no she has a way of always keeping me guessing. A pink puffy nightmare stops me in my tracks; think Michelin man meets Pricilla Queen of the Desert. I can't believe Mrs. Castillo actually wore that, she always seems so pulled together. Maybe the French are good at everything but choosing cool ski wear. She is so going to sweat bullets in that thing.
She pirouettes and prances up and down the living room like she's on a catwalk, busting with attitude and pouting her hot fuchsia lips, ending in a top model pose that would make Tyra Banks Holla. Flipping up her bright yellow ski goggles to see me better, she tightens her side pony which is teased almost as much as my bangs.
"Well hell, I wish I would have done a racing stripe too," she whines, "well done Miss Grace, as always," she admits with a smile, eyeing me up and down. "I suppose I'm just going to have to wow them with my stunning portrayal of pink cool whip." Flipping her pony over her shoulder she pulls out her gloss and does a quick touch up in the last chance mirror by the door.
"Back in the day I would have killed
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