So - how do I write Stella McCartney a letter & how can I get it directly to her, you ask? Well, I'm going via the Gucci Group, and hopefully, after 17 & 22 days, the damn red letter will arrive upon her doorstep. I'm sure someone could forward it to her, right? I've decided to use the bespoke angle, which apparently Ms. McCartney wishes to revive with Vivarin. I wish to move my happy ass to the UK (and learn all the goodies, and get my thumbs in the pie of tailored clothing).
I missed Westin's dog, Jellybean the other day. Damn move. I wanted to frolic with that dog moreso than any, either, or and degutante. Speaking of the move, we finally did it. We stuck a fork in it, and now we're done. And if there is one thing I despise about moving, it's trying to find places for everything and not succeeding. And the fact that I have WAY! TOO! MANY! GLASSES! I bought more from CostPlus, but really... I mean, out of control amounts of dishes. Maybe Schmeeds wants some? Do ya, do ya, d'ya Schmeeds? So the weekend was comprised of massive amounts of move-ation. My parents came down & helped us move couches & excrement from here to Timbuktu. Ohhhh we had a time. Hopefully, there will be a time in the future, but hot damn, I don't want to move again until I leave this side of the pond.
Enough. My entry is wicked boring today.