The last week and a half has been filled with sales meeting after line showing after sales meeting, with all of our New York and Minneapolis and Florida people here in town--lots of drinking and schmoozing and catty remarks after someone has left the conversation...And after this week and a half, I want nothing more than to go home, sit on the sofa in my pyjamas and no makeup, and be nice.

Especially since I've got some making-up to do. Apparently, I've been wreaking karmic havoc because not only am I stricken with a hangover, I'm coming down with cramps of the menstrual sort. Grrowl. Watch out, I'm on a grumpy-bender, and the only thing that's going to stop me is chocolate, and lots of it. Or maybe biscuits. Jaysus, I've been on a biscuit-kick lately...they're so good! Last night, in my most surprisingly drunk manner, I begged the waiter for a biscuit to go with my dinner. Much hilarity ensued. And it was the best freaking biscuit I've ever had! It was half-sweet, almost shortbready, but crispy-crumbly on the outside, like a bizkit.

Then the Psd to HTML or PSD to CSS conversion is carried out by hard coding the image to fit into HTML frames or layers

Completely unrelated tangent: I need to spirit myself away to Vicky's*, for the purpose of buying new underwear. More accurately, new brassieres. (Isn't it so much funnier to say brassieres? Say it out loud. Well, don't say it out loud if people can hear you--it's always extremely unnerving to hear someone mutter "brassieres" under their breath while staring fixedly at their monitor, I swear. Okay, no one's listening--say it! See? It's funny!) (also, it's funny because I'm this crazy young vixenish girl, and the word brassiere always makes me think of my grandmother's bras from the 30's. Or it makes me think of that beginning part in Cold Comfort Farm. See? Funny on so many levels. Anyway. On with the show.) My underwear collection is vast, but my brassiers are slowly disappearing. And disintigrating. You know how it is? You wake up, shower, go to put your bra on and it has all these nasty elastic strings hanging off it, and the material is all grubby looking and the underwires are sorta half-bent out of place...

Whoops. Too much info, I'm sure. But seriously, bras take a lot of abuse! And it's time for some new ones. I love new underwear.

Actually, if you'll remember back to a few days ago, I love new anything. But again, as is common, I digress.

* - Duh. Victoria's Secret. What rock have you been living under? Heh.