hate myself.

So I bought a dress. And no, I'm not going to tell you how much I spent on it. Let it just be said that we were at a designer sample sale and that it is a Diane von Furstenburg. So in essence, it's not my fault. I came to the conclusion I would hate myself if I didn't buy it and that I would hate myself if I did by it but at least I'd have the dress.

After buying said dress, Catrina, our flatmate Caitlyn, and I found a whole bunch of other really sweet shops on Bond Street where I, like a good girl, did not buy anything. Then we went and laid down in the middle of Hyde Park. It's like the Oval times twenty.

Oh, I forgot to mention I had my interview this morning (technically yesterday, I suppose). I kind of overslept, forgot about the evil shower, couldn't find my hairbrush, sprinted to the Tube, got lost, and overall, think it went pretty well. One problem though. Apparently my magazine is a lot more business and financially oriented than I thought. Throughout the interview, which was more like me and my Kelsey Grammer-like boss chatting, I pretended that the business part did not worry me at all. After I left, I promptly went and bought the Financial Times Newspaper. I'm thinking that's going to have to be a regular occurrence. Looks like I've got some studying to do.