You've noticed my absence, yes? I apologize, dear readers. Ok, dear reader. It's been difficult making the transition from blogger/freelancer/dilettante to full time puppy mama, but I think I may be getting a handle on things now. Over the course of the last couple months I've made some astute observations that I've been dying to share with, well, anyone really. So why not you?
1) Madonna scares me
2) This year's Costume Institute Gala can be summed up in one word: snore. Based on what attendees wore to the fashion party of the year, the exhibit should have been called "Model as Snooze." (Madonna was especially frightful in her over-the-knee boots and turquoise horns. Shudder.)
3) Michael Jackson's passing was sudden and sad. The face of pop music will forever be changed. But if I see Justin Timberlake or Chris Brown do an MJ send up in their next music video, I cannot be held accountable for my ensuing actions. Sadly, my gut tells me it's just a matter of time...
4) Jamie Foxx on MJ: "We want to celebrate this black man - he belongs to us - and we shared him with everybody else." Uh, whut? I guess if we're going on that rationale, I belong to Statler and Waldorf, the heckling critics from the Muppet Show, and they're sharing me with you.
5) Men do not find it attractive when I speak to my puppy in a lispy baby voice. In fact, it could explain why one in particular won't return my calls.
6) May Bernie Madoff rot in jail for eternity. Or at least the next 150 years. Ha!
7) If this Twitter business is going to continue, I sincerely hope the next generation of twitterers (tweeters? twats?) will express themselves in Haiku form: Got wasted last night / Had sex with some random dude / Can't find my panties
8) Now that Topshop is officially on North American shores can we all stop trying to recreate the pantsless London look or has the arrival of Alexa Chung just brought us right back to square one?
9) Jimmy Choo is next in line to design a capsule collection for H&M. Looks like la Mellon is desperately trying to claw her way across the pond, not unlike another skeletal Brit* who pandered to the masses in the hopes of conquering America. (*Name that Brit and win a chance to do my laundry for a month!)
10) The end is nigh. I will never have Gisele's legs. Let's get pissed!
