Shoulda Coulda Woulda

I should be blogging about getting to see Brian for the last four days: about dinner with friends Saturday and Monday night; about our cat-sitting and how sweet speckly Nina loves him and drools on him in bed; about insane amounts of shopping over two days and how I've come (back) in touch with my inner Imelda Marcos (the shoe part, not the lacy black panties); about how he brought me Radish King and reading it in bed with him and how much I lovelovelove and envy parts of it so much my gums tingle. But that's all got to wait.

See, part of my job involves handling money. I account for it, I fill out forms, I do it up for deposit. Not being the most mathy boy in the free world, I tend to be meticulous about this, counting it three or four times before settling in to finish the forms. Anyway, I get home today and find a message that I need to call work. Seems that one of my deposits came up short, $250.00 short, in fact. So it's been stressfull today--how does one (dis)prove a negative? Even after getting the verdict from one of the owners that I'm still employed, I feel like I'm scooped out; I'm headachey, I'm still nauseous. I'm determined to not get down...but right now...well...it's hard....And this is not what I wanted to put out here....

Separated at Birth

Gwyneth Paltrow, photoshopped within an inch of her life.


A Louis Vuitton Viktor Bag.

To see more hideous unnatural tans, go here.