I need to stop watching the City. Whitney Port makes me walk around picking things up with the pads of my fingers, lust after giant phones that give me email and make my head look dainty and react to all minor incidents in a very serious, dramatic manner while chewing gum. Everything with her is about how “you know, at the same time, we all make choices in our life and I’m very grateful for that and yadda yadda yadda oh you know the girls are calling a meeting because one of the boys might have kissed another girl and its just all so like DRAMA and oh I love your shoes”
So long as I don’t start swanning around in tights instead of pants its all gravy. I could do with a little invented drama.


