TOMORROW I FLY TO FUCKING CALIFORNIA AND GET TO DO WEIRD SEX STUFF WITH TWO, POSSIBLY THREE, INCREDIBLY PRETTY DUDES AND I AM PROFOUNDLY PLEASED ABOUT THIS.

(One of the dudes is my husband, obvs)

(also I get to do a fucked up roleplay where I literally get to play Christ)

(I am VERY pleased about this)

People are always telling me “Madeira, you’re not much for travelling, are you?” and I always respond “Oh no I love to travel it’s just that no one seems to understand that a weekend away involves three suitcases, a hatbox, and then I have to pack my full skin care regimen, including my two separate humidifiers (one for during sleep, the other to bring around with me during the day), my special pillow cases, a shower head adapter in case the local water upsets my hair, a lighted magnifying mirror, at least three outfit changes per day, a formal gown in case I need it, my special light for if it’s winter and I get sad, three kinds of sunscreen for different situations, a full library of Marxist literature, a second back up hatbox, the 7 or more separate products involved in washing my hair…” ad infinitum

I wonder if I can cancel my bus tickets back from New York and get train tickets instead, this is everything I dreaded. Cramped seats, no electrical outlets and no place for me to sit next to D, and fuck bus travel forever