NEW YORK?

Today has been like any other day for me.I woke up feeling sleepy despite just departing from the land of slumber,slowly headed downstairs got excited with the arrival of my Lana Del Ray album courtesy of Amazon (by-the-by some,big,big quality beats and gorgeous lyrics on that album),downed three cups of hot Ribena,sampled a piece of my home made brownie(fucking excellent...can you hear me blowing my own trumpet?),dashed towards the front door,and put my favourite no7 coral red lipstick on.Ready for work just another day being shop.girl.assistant. I do enjoy being a shop girl.How can I complain?When I get to be in contact with lovely pieces of fashion everyday and help girls dress up for their big date/night out and to win back their ex boy (hey jojo* promised I'd say hello didn't I?Hope he likes your new ensemble?),though today I will complain 'cause it was tedious.The weather was freezing.Drizzling with fake snow i.e sleet.Putting shoppers in a sour sort of mood.Meh,were all yearning for spring to come around aren't we?
Sleet or sweet,sweet sunshine shop.girls coral smile stays put.
But towards late afternoon,I made a huge error and began stalking the time.Eyes fixated on the clock.As I said.BIG MISTAKE.
As watching the clock does no favours;oh those last few tiny minutes such a tease.
Closing time did surely arrive,and I've just got in.Leaped towards the stereo and got that volume up real good.To the maximum (though not too maximum,I'm a considerate neighbor!),to absorb Lana Del Rays album properly (this morning was rush-rush and I didn't get the chance to play her album from start to end).BellBells (my lovely 'ickle lion head baby bunny)awaits her carrot stick fix.Greets me with her whisker kisses i.e very wet face wash. Bells diner done.

Hmmm,I begin to ponder what I fancy on my plate tonight?Torn between three dish ideas,that are ;spicy pumpkin soup vs stuffed pepper vs three cheese pizza.Attempting to make my final decision proves impossible,pah!I'll think it through whilst checking my neglected inbox.Scrolling through comical spam (which part of being spam,doesn't spam understand?As the pesky stuff still haunts my non-spam inbox *irritating,much*),the norm oddball spam ingredients of penis enlarger tablets,corrupt African 'bank donations' and umm more declarations of love from an African stranger,in a bid to clear out my bank account.Well thanks and all,but I'm quite capable of doing damage to my account (raaaahhh damn you Pixie Market!) with out your assistance.Delete,delete,del del del del DEL, and that includes you fb feeds (facebook.Yawn).All spammed out.The now hollow inbox remains with only ten or so dismal (and penis tablet free) emails,a few from way back.Oh electronic mail how you've been so very badly neglected.Somehow?I wrongly- very wrongly assume the remainder will be from whoever,wherever requesting me to blog 'exclusives' this,that,anything and everything.From patterned Tampax,dry shampoo,celeb endorsed crap 'fashion collections' and exclusive Conde Nast invitations.Delete,delete,del del del

...dumbarse,hasty deleting dumbarse.How many years of your obsessing blogging?Exciting fashion opportunities and counting- ditto.Until just now.When you deleted your date with the fashion front rowers away.Breathe.I must remember to breathe.Conde Nast.Really?

Nah.Somebody is having a sick joke at my expense.Probably revenge from that African 'banker' I snubbed from my spambox.Or some pist off PR person,because I rejected their offer of free dry shampoo in favour of a brief product blog.

Conde Nast imposter's.I'm sharp,not fooling me.

Mmmm Conde Nast.New York fashion week,back stage access.Really?

Breathe.You forgot to breathe.Again.

Conde Nast as in,you know the highly priced,highly glossy fashion magazines.

No.Who from there would read,yet alone request prettyneons to attend front row fashion shows?I'm no front rower Grazia girl.Shop.Girl assistant 'tis me.

Crikey,Conde Nast (or perhaps con-de nast?) have bombarded my inbox with numerous invites.

In a minute the hot actor Jason Segel will make an appearance,were make out and this funny little dream will be over with...Jason,Jason where you at man?

Shit.I'm not dreaming?

Conde Nast New York invites etc are,could they be the real McCoy?

Reminder to BREATHE.

Okay how do I explain to Conde Nast that I've,well, deleted Conde Nast?

I've just emailed the powers that be @ Conde Nast,said pardon (does that even cut it?) for spamming their thoughtful and generous New York fashion week invitation.I now await the reply.Was the invite for real?Is it authentic?Or is it a bitter and rejected African 'banker' from my spam box?

I know now,I haven't dreamed this up because my crush Jason Segel failed to make a cameo.

I've decided I want the three cheese pizza.

This is scary and surreal...very much unlike any other day.Conde Nast fashion invites and New York fashion week?Yeah they don't often feature in my any other days.