To the max.

Faux leather J: Sunnygirl
Maxi skirt: COurtesy of Robot Ninjas.
Bustier that's actually a dress that I bought for my yr 10 formal that was too slutty: Vintage off ebay.
Fake docs: K-mart
Belt and bag: Thrifted.
Blue ribbon in my hair: One and only Tony Bui.



Gallivanting around the city to shop for formal dresses following a night of absolutely no sleep is never a good idea. In fact, gallivanting anywhere with anything less than 8 hours of solid sleep is not a good idea. It makes you want to tear your brain out of your head through your nose and constrict yourself with bandages. It makes you want to mummify yourself.

I used to dismiss people who listed "sleeping" as their hobby idiots, and I prided myself on being a morning person. I don't know what changed but life is now infinitely better asleep. Dreams are better than reality. I don't know about you, but driving a a minotaur car with wings beats commuting to high school anyday. I only dreamt about the minotaur car once, but even mundane things are suddenly 5000x more interesting when it's presented in the form of a sleep induced hallucination. And nothing beats the embrace of warm sheets and bed socks.



I'm probably just salivating all over sleeping because I just came home from work and I'm still dying from Friday night's lack of sleep. So I'm going to catch some z's before this blog post becomes an essay on the legalisation of general anaesthesia and unconsciousness via hitting people over the head with a crowbar, because sleeping is better than being awake.

P.S. lucid dreams. The fuck is that all about? I want it.