I need a fucking vacation.

So hey.

I'm dressed kind of boyish today, but I think I look good.

When Frank and I went shopping (Well, I did the shopping, he held my change in his pockets, and walked around with me) I bought mostly clothing (I got some sandals, but I still haven't bought shoes. Told ya'll I hate to buy shoes) and headwear. I bought the hello kitty visor, which is the most awesome thing since sliced bread, and a white baseball cap. This baseball cap isn't just any baseball cap, friends. I now have a hat that has this little ducky girl who has big hair and is wearing a blue dress with a flower on it. Underneat her are the words, "Oops, I said the F-word."

It's the funniest article of clothing ever.

Really. Ever.

Anyway, I dig this hat.

Since Orkut membership, I've spent a lot of time in a group formed by Jen called "The Fashion Police."

I feel as though I am quite the authority on fashion.

Now those of you who have met me, and/or are very well aquainted with me may believe otherwise. I often dress very lazily, and have used scent to descern the quality of articles of clothing and if they are to be worn that day or not.

But, I do strongly believe I am an expert on fashion.

Why?

Because I have two eyes. I can tell what looks like stir-fried-shit and what looks like hot, buttered ass. Socks & Sandals, Girls who don't wear tank tops, and many other fashion atrocities must be stopped. I strongly believe that my membership in the fashion police (and being dubbed, co-commissioner [I'm such a fucking dork, this is an online community for christ sake]) is a public service toward those who look more like the stir fry than the hot butteredness.

I aim to help.

In other news, my boyfriend rules, and my job is boring and is becoming a giant clusterfuck.

I might go to karaoke tonight.

I am going to an audition on saturday.

I've got two part time jobs, and might have 3 pretty soon.

Okay, that's about it.

Love,

Pam

89 days until las vegas.