eeeyah eeyah eeeyaeeya...eeeyah eeyah eeeyaeeya

I have just completed my second day at Conde Nast packaging luxury gifts for the needy CEO's of the fashion and beauty industries. While I was robbed of an Anna Wintour encounter, I can rest peacefully at night knowing that Lubov Azria, wife of BCBG's Max, will be receiving her cashmere travel blanket wrapped in wrinkle-free tissue paper and tied with a satin bow, shiny side up.

In other exciting news, Yaya did not win America's Next Top Model! Perhaps there is a god afterall. One of my fellow temp gift wrappers happened to be in Yaya's class at Brown and confirmed that she does, indeed, "suck ass." I'm sad that this delightful "cycle" has come to an end, but it looks as though Project Runway will pick up the slack quite nicely.

Okay, now it's time to contemplate and do absolutely nothing about the massive amount of work to be done in order for me to relocate without losing all my possessions and/or paying a shitload of money to store/ship them. FAB, Drone? Be prepared to be bribed with various alcoholic beverages to help me solve this conundrum.