When Ian comes back from London for a brief week, you just clear your schedule and put on your dance shoes. No questions asked.
The magic cap that makes you feel like a Independent Woman,
check ✓:
Keep-the-rules-out-but-wisdom-in evening
(spoiler alert, I managed to lose both by 4AM)
It's inconvenient to carry with a disco ball,
better wear shiny pants instead. #Fridaynightwin
Probably making a quick Skype call with granny:
Trying to touch her ass, but still too shy:
Džeišus!
Maybe we found the self-timer button on the camera
and totally over abused it.
So embrace yourselves...:
Ian and ze ladies:
He is now strong enough to lift me.
I HAVE WAITED TEN YEARS FOR THIS!
*khm* we're not actually blood relatives:
The perfect eyebrows trolleybus girl:
Connecting people:
London has done him justice.
He has lost extra weight and gained so much swag:
Perhaps we listened few Queen B tunes.
I love him despite the farts and ambulances:
More hotness than should be allowed:
Time to go out.
"Mirror, mirror on the wall,
who's the first one to fall on the dance floor?"
"Mom, I'm ueufejlaisfupa9ufoe":
While out we met some pretty cool people.
(when did Ian's chin got so hairy?):
Mr.Ingu!:
Meliss!:
Then I matched on Tinder with this handsome guy,
however going home with him did not seem an option:
"Promise not to have too much fun without me":
And the finding myself tucked in bed,
the cab ride, the memory gone from my head.
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