Ouch.

My new shoes ate two of my old toes.

Woosh.

I spotted the perfect pair. I couldn't tear my eyes away from my feet. It was flat, black, strappy, French, UK size two and a half and thirty six percent off. Even with the discount it was pricey, but I didn't put a little bit of my salary each month into a rainy day fund for nothing.

Then I woke up.

Growl.

Demons have invaded my bag of dried cranberries because it was not resealable although it insisted otherwise, but the cranberries have lost none of their flavour.

Hush.

I wish I could just weave a cashmere cocoon around myself and turn off all the lights in the world before settling down to a long, dreamless sleep.

Thpbt.

I stuck my tongue out at Bruno the Boorish Bureaucrat's Beastly Back at a work meeting today and it felt goooood.

Ah!

Oh hello, I thought you'd stopped going to work altogether. Winter it may be, but I'd recognize those sausage calves and ankle boots anywhere!

Murmur.

I still remember the legislator with the soft, pulchritudinous hands that caressed and beguiled his constituents.

(Take that, Sophie Dahl.)

Arrrgh.

'You are' abbreviated is you're. You're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're you're YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE YOU'RE!

Grkkk.

Really, you are wearing too much perfume if, at the end of the day, you are scurrying home from work in the twilight and your scent is so overpowering that poor little Paper-Pushing Penny, coming from the opposite direction with dreams of a hot dinner, keels over and dies right there on the pavement unprovoked.

Boink.

I thought eating raisins and grapes while drinking red wine was radical, but no one gave me a trophy, so I guess not.

Squawk.

Squaaaaaawwwwwk. Squawk squawk squawk squawk squawksquawksquawk squaaaawk!

Wink.

Keanu Reeves: wooden but pretty.

Ow.

"The only way to to deal with four-inch heels," I lectured, "Is to take one silver bullet, wedge it between your teeth and bite it. Hard. Take it or leave it, darling."

Snrk.

I dreamt last night that the cashier gave me change in $290 notes in shades of brown and khaki.

Huff.

Sir, I do not appreciate being scowled at for frowning at your tot who crashed into my knees, for clearly, I am not the one who needs to be leashed to a post outside the store.

Bling.

Why can't a person live on books and gemstones alone?

Blush.

The clerk at the post office has rouged two magenta circles onto the apples of her cheeks, reminding me, for some reason, of Olive Oyl.

Chug.

You really can chase the blues away with alcohol, but that's because all you can think of is how bloody uncomfortable and nauseous you are.