falling down.

I've taken to falling down quite a bit in this past week.


This is due in part to the airing of the VS fashion show, and we all know how much Margaret Zhang hearts the VS Fashion Show. I watched it and was self-affirmed (because those models are so damn confident when they strut their stuff!) and so I decide the day after the VS fashion show that I'm going to look sexy.


So I slide into these uber hot brand new sheer tights, this rockin Target dress (okay, granted target is far inferior to something that is the epitome of class, like the Gap, but it was $10 so step off) and these uber high wedges that just increase my sex appeal by a factor of 69. Which, I didn't even think was possible because, let's be honest, my sex appeal is already through the damn roof. Regardless, inspired by the VS fashion show, I was strutting my stuff down Old Campus and errthang and people were walking by me and were being all "Margaret, I love your dress" "Your shoes rock my socks off" etc. Imagine Joseph Gordon Levitt in (500) Days of Summer when Hall & Oates plays. Except it was me. And there was no dancing.


So I'm happy to be alive and birds are literally flying around me and chirping (and pooping), but then, I say hi to someone and am down for the fucking count. Seriously guys, imagine a large elf tripping over a tiny wagon and then sledgehammering into the ground. Then imagine that elf a teensy bit sexier and with my face. That's what it was like. 


Anyways, I laugh and get up and keep walking, trying to brush it off like a pro (although actually I am crying and hyperventilating in my brain). And then I walk for a minute and finally dare to peek down at my knees. And the damn sexy tights are now ripped and my knee is bloody. So hot. So basically my hotness fell off my bod at the same time I hammered into the ground. So I scamper back to my dorm and prance out with cowboy boots on instead. I don't think God wanted me to look extra sexy that day. 

And then tonight, drunk solely on the charms of It's a Wonderful Life, I fell down the stairs (those homies can be tricky to navigate!) and lay crumpled and whimpering for a while in the courtyard, alone, pondering how my life came to be such a reflection of Lindsay Lohan's, minus the cocaine usage and changing hair color. And then stranger boys peered down at me. And they thought I was drunk. Le sigh. . . L. Lo, I feel your pain gurllll. 


Literally though, my knees are bruised and scabby. 






I'm thinking of writing slam poetry.