Real Faggots Never Die

We just take vacays with plastic surgeons and fruit shakes.

I've been busy with the trivial. Bills, work, the new season of Project Runway, and going back to New York to see the ex-boyfriend. (Who's now quite honestly more like my husband... its so obvious to all spectators that we're actually still dating- altho I'm still in denial since it means I have to let go of grudges and come down off the cross that I've martyed myself upon. If I don't have my ex to complain about, then what do I talk about? The resurgence of plaid shirts?!)

But irregardless, I'm horribly excited about the upcoming New Year. I feel that 2006 is going to be an amazing year. A year of financial solvency and mental stability, of less body-fat percentages and higher tax brackets, and of healthier living. (i.e. less nose candy, more yoga)

2005 was a fucking horrible year in many respects. Hurricanes, Tsunamis, Earthquakes, Bombings and Hair-Bleaching by Lindsay.
For me, it was a strange trip. I started 2005 a vapid New York bar lackey, and I'm ending it in LA as a vapid fashion cog.

But there was progress... I've started paying off student loans, got my first real serious (read: paying) job, and I've ended the year a more responsible adult. I've even taken a new job offer and as of the new year I will be a fashion rep of eight women's contemporary lines. I'll be making more money in a job that I think I'm better suited for.

So although 2005 was a nasty cunt, I must say that I think I'm going to come out of it okay.

Happy Holidays y'all. Thanks to all of you who've been supportive and sweet.

xoxoxoo
Astro