I just finished working out and my arms are all shaky and weird feeling. This is, by the way, a good thing.

(I am trying to shed the flab I got this summer, when I started eating dessert with every meal and basically consuming all kinds of so-yummy, non-healthy things that normally I restrain myself from. It was fun—by god, was it fun—but there is always a price to pay. Always.)

Anyway. Today I went to Sephora, which for me is always a mistake. I needed an eyelash curler, and they sell the Shu Uemura one there, which is the best in the whole wide world, bar none, I swear to you. I’m not even going to tell you how much it costs, I can’t bear it. Ah, vanity. And of course while I was there I reasoned myself into a new Vincent Longo lipstick. (Sample inner dialogue: “Well, it’s been ages since I bought new lipstick. I mean, how old is this one I’m wearing now? At least six months. And everyone knows that’s, like, bad for you. Bacteria and all. Plus everything I have is too brown, and I have been working really hard lately, and well, it’s just one lipstick and then I won’t get another for six months…..” and so on.)

Credit card guilt is the worst kind of guilt, I swear. You have no one to blame but yourself.

(I promise this is the last of the shopping entires. It has to be: see above sentence.)

I will write about something profound and literary tomorrow. Something deep and thought-provoking. Something that will resonate in your consciousness for a long, long time.


Better go watch some PBS.

have a good evening……