Marry Me!

Sometimes I wish I wasn't driven to succeed on my own, and I could just pull an Anna Nicole, strip for a few years, and marry a wheelchair-bound, on-his-deathbed billionaire and be set for life. Unfortunately, as it were, I'm one of those annoying "I need to support myself so if my husband leaves me I'm not totally fucked" type of women, so I have to work hard for my paychecks. Right now, I'm employed at a fabulous (not!) sit-down pizza chain as a server, but that's just while I scour Chicago for internships and until I graduate college. The money there is surprisingly good, but since I'm only a seasonal employee my cash is running low. I'm coming back for Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, and after I walk out of the restaurant's revolving door I'm walking straight into the mall it is connected to, into DSW, and buying these babies:

Good lord, the things I would do for a pair of these Steve Madden patent leather Mary Jane pieces of eye candy, and for sixty dollars, they're just within reach!

Wish me luck, and if you know where I work, come in and tip me, and help support my addiction!

Falling off the wagon

There is a reason for my lack of posts, and that reason is a relapse. Clearly actual window shopping has become too difficult because I caved and bought a lot of beautiful things that were begging to be saved from their price tag shackles. I need an intervention. I need to go to retail rehab, but in the meantime my bank account is at 130 dollars, the lowest it has ever been, so back to staring through virtual windows for me.

By the way, is it unhealthy that I often contemplate hiding all my clothes and wearing rags for three months in the hopes that I can get on TLC's What Not To Wear and win a FIVE THOUSAND DOLLAR WARDROBE MAKEOVER?

These are definitely the signs of an addict...