Better late than never, right?

It's only February 10, and my 30-day project has already failed. And I don't even have a good excuse, either. I'd like to say that I spent the weekend de-worming kittens, feeding the homeless, and working tirelessly for the Obama campaign, but in fact my a** was glued to the couch for most of the last few days, with the exception of two night-time excursions to the opera house, in which I made new friends far hipper than me and drank large quantities of red wine; one trip to the hair salon, in which I became exponentially cuter in the span of an hour and a half; and one visit to the zoo, in which I contemplated stealing a meerkat to keep as a pet. It was a good weekend.

I am a paragon of professionalism when at work-related functions.


Except when they keep filling your glass before you've even finished your wine.


But no matter how much wine I drink, I have yet to perfect the perfect pouty pose.