i'll admit, i'm not a twitterer. i don't get it. when i'm blowing my nose at 3pm on a thursday, my first inclination isn't to broadcast it to my network of 5K followers (don't know what that is) with 12 hash tags (don't know what those are) and an extra push to facebook (is that how it works?). be that as it may, i don't judge those who do. if you want to share and there's someone who cares to read it--rock on. but for goodness sake can someone please confiscate ashton kutcher's blackberry and save him from himself. you do not tweet about your divorce. you do not tweet about highly controversial child abuse cases about which you are ill informed. and for the love of all that is good you do not sign your 140 character ramblings with, "light and love. ak."

shut the hell up! yep, that's right i said it. go drink a big old glass of shut the hell up, ashton kutcher. try having a personal life. leave a bit to the imagination (says the blogger who posts daily pictures from her living room. you know you were thinking it.). if you keep airing all of your idiot thoughts like this, you're going to screw up the misconception that you have a shred of intelligence. silence is golden and you're rusty. step away from the mass texting. society would thank you. oh, and cut your hair while you're at it. it looks a little greasy.

Dress: Anna Sui for Target Blazer: Brass Plum

i really had the best intentions of writing an amazing blog post, tonight. no really, it was going to be fantastic. unfortunately, my day derailed that plan. you see, somewhere between my 7th and 8th meeting i literally stopped being able to form complete thoughts. my brain said, "screw you" and went on strike. and here we are. at 8:30pm with my rambling nonsense. so when you can't dazzle with actual talent, the trick is to distract with something shiny. queue my outfit today. enjoy and i promise to return with editorial genius, tomorrow.

Pants: JCrew Blouse: Leith Coat: Zara Bag: Calvin Klein

while i technically haven't lived with my parents for around 5 years, i've been a bit lazy about clearing all my stuff out of my room. i've avoided the task for over a year now, but a couple of weeks ago i bit the bullet and drove out to pack up all of my bad 90's gear and donate it to the salvation army. i opened my closet and everything from my prom dress to my extensive roxy collection poured out. somewhere between my denim jacket, denim vest and denim skirt, i began to question if i should skip the donation process and go straight for the blow torch.

i was able to retrieve one lone item from the wreckage. a pair of navy tights that i was super stoked to rock today. except that i failed to realize that i've probably grown a few inches since 1995. by mid-morning, they were midway to my ankles. it was a continuous battle against gravity throughout the day and i didn't have nearly enough spandex on my side to win. i finally resorted to hiking them up as far as i could, gathering all of the excess fabric and tying a knot at my waist. which then left a strange bulge on my hip. which was pretty hot. drooping aside, i really did dig the color, though. my inner smurf came out to play.

Sweater: H&M Skirt: Zara Bag: Gucci

i hate possums. this probably isn't earth shattering as i can't say i've ever met a possum lover. but since one just scampered across my path on my way in tonight, i thought i should take a moment to reiterate that they truly are superfluous, if not disgusting. i hate that they hiss. i hate that they hide in dark corners and that their eyes glow. i also hate their long tales. in the grand scheme of evolutionary development it is a wonder that a blind, defenseless over sized rat that plays dead somehow managed not only to survive, but to thrive. its a biological joke that i don't find funny. at the very least, they should learn to jump. did you know they're the only mammal that can't even lift their own body weight off the ground? what an embarrassment. learn to jump, possum!

they sloth around looking dirty and lazy, sleeping under your car, scaring your cat. animals have three choices in this world: food, friend or enemy. the possum doesn't fit any of these categories. which is an additional reason that i hate them. i think it's about time we ban together and show these misfits who's boss. they need to shape up or get out. either domesticate and become lovable or take a note from the raccoon and toughen up. you've been warned, possum. you've been warned.

Shirt: American Eagle Skirt: Elevenses Boots: Frye Bag: Gucci