Spring in Seattle. Siiiiigh. The flowers are blooming, the sandals are poking their heads up in the shoe stores, the rest of the world is starting to talk about the "sun." Today its freezing and totally overcast and I'm wearing sweaters/coats with no end in sight. I feel like a pale, out of shape bear that is still in hibernation.

New Orleans is six weeks away and I would like to be 1.) tanner 2.) thinner 3.) blonder 4.) perkier by then. It's entirely achievable as well, there's ample time for a total spring makeover.

Okay. So I just re-read that sentence and I realize how much I sounded like a PR girl just then. I'm apologize to you all. The thing is, PR girls are brutal. For one, they all look the same and they are FIERCE with their highlights and their black suits and their glimmery eyeshadow and their trendy handbags. And the idea of going to a show where I'll be surrounded by hundreds of these women is...kind of...overwhelming/depressing/scary and it manages to destroy any sense of self esteem you might have. That's really the worst part of PR -- it really is all about image and appearance.

Heading to Gloss.com now to look for some shimmering makeup. I need to get into battle mode.