Ya’ll, I wish, from the very depths of my soul, that I could be a travel blogger. Why hasn’t someone super rich and stupid with their money hired me to travel and write up hilarious travel snafus? Why?
Not only do I long to travel more, I wish to go back to where I left my bleeding heart-London Town.
I went on my last, serious trip seven years ago. Seven.years.ago.
This is unacceptable.
Seven years ago was the last time I was in England, and a little bit of my soul dies every day more. My ultimate fear in this life is never getting a chance to get back there again.
As I type (tap on my asshole phone that still thinks, after all this time, that I mean “duck”), my heart is literally aching and my stomach is in knots.
It feels like homesickness.
I miss where my heart belongs.
#fbf to when I was living it up in London (This is also a flashback to when I thought I was fat-I wish I could be that fat again).
I had some super sweet photography skills seven years ago. I’m glad I was able to travel all the way to England to capture this dude’s chops so well.
Those T-Rex arms, though.
Fucking Nandos. Dammit, I miss you.
I had just eaten a hot crossed bun. Baked goods create a certain glow about me.