the xaris wears prada

hello. i spilled coffee on my chin, blouse and office table because i sipped from the wrong end of the cup. good thing it wasn't hawt or i'd have pretty much damaged more than my stuff. oops. i dropped something. my brain.

speaking of brain [in]activities, i had another full-moon-ia /fulmonya/ episode last week when i filed a resignation because i felt like i wanted to try something else without really exactly knowing what that something else was. i said i'd go pursue my foiled radio star plans while freelance writing for all the prettiest glossies in town. i said i thought about it well when all i really did was practice my imaginary would-be-editor interview on the way to the office.

to channel my inner[?] okrayera and grammar nazi inclinations, i decided to one day be a miranda priestly. but first i must become an andy sachs. minus the icky threads she used to wear. i like imagining myself running around in trendy clothes lugging paper bags and balancing a tray of starbucks coffee while cradling my super techy communicator for a voice call... oh wait. i do that for fun.

but i'd like to see myself more like the prada-wearing devil i'm cut out to be [bwahahaha] but on a nicer scale. i'd like to think i don't have pitch forks and a tail although most people would disagree. i don't understand where they get the idea. tchhh.

and since the full moon waned, i'm back to normal, loving every minute of the spilled coffee on my desk. because it means i still have a desk and i still have a job.