Six hours of sleep in two days? Madness.

Tonight’s playlist: 

Carla Bruni - Quelqu’un m’a dit

Roy Orbinson - Shahdaroba

Sam Cooke - That’s Where It’s At

Santana - Samba Pa Ti (You can’t deny that Santana looks like he should be smashing watermelons.)

Seu Jorge - Changes 

Smokey Robinson & the Miracles - Ooo Baby Baby

Stan Getz & João Gilberto - Garota de Ipanema

Tomorrow: 
+ waking up around five to beat rush hour on 95 N. Booo. (In three hours!? Stop blogging, you asshole. You know you’re nitpicky about editing and proper quotation marks.)
+ visiting my former students who sent me this adorable MMS:

Side note,
- Missing French chef’s body found stuffed in freezer. Whaaaaat.
- Tonight, you belong to me.
- I hate fondant with a passion. I don’t care if your cake is prettier.
- I’d love to visit here, here, or here. I need to become friends with Bourdain, STAT.
- AVT 318 all over again but all in one go? Damn, where were you when I needed you?

That’s all. Goodnight.