Okay, I need to pinken my wardrobe. Where are the best places to do that, but with any default poofery that would have me dress as a Victorian jointed doll (I don't want those skin tones, Mummy! Please don't make me have to choose my skin tone from those two....) I've just grabbed a pink gingham button down and a pale punk button down, but I could stand a short pink jacket, since both of mine are fake trenches. Where do I go for pink? Zulily and BR are already pillaged. Hmm.

Okay, off to bed. If I'm going to have insomnia, it's fucking well going to be in my bed.

Those shoes are gorgeous.

Those shoes are gorgeous.

Aren't they? I found them because Vonnie linked to these on LJ: [link]

But I don't do that shade of green.

So pretty, though, all of them...

Consuela, I was looking at that site because of Vonnie and cursing her name earlier because they has so many cool but hellishly expensive shoes. Sad.

And Vortex said what I meant, better. Racial slurs don't slip out if you're not thinking them in the first place.

Any advice on how to deal with a crazy control freak who is assuming responsibility that, in the end, is not hers?

You and I seem to have the same boss, Juliebird. I do my best to stay out of her way and off her radar. When I have to have her input, I do a lot of ego-stroking. The most exhausting part of my job is managing my manager. Le n, you had some good ideas, I'm-a use 'em. On the occasions when I'm not too furious to do the delicate work of psychological manipulation.

What makes it extra sad is that, if this were a relationship, I'd be out the door.

Ooh, I have said that, many times.

Slapping a kid is aggravated assault and should get the appropriate penalty. I might be a little lenient due to circumstances, but not much. I understand the guy was in a lot of pain and very much on edge, but if you're a person who typically lashes out physically, get some Xanax. There's no good excuse for hitting a kid.

I don't think I can justify buying those shoes. Except that I WANT THEM.

I will pay someone to come and do my job for me for a week. Room, board, money, whatever, just give me a week I don't have to deal with this.

omg I bought the shoes. Partly because, well. Just because.

Retail therapy appears to be what I need: at least it's better than drinking.

I think if you slap a tiny kid that's not your own when under stress, I don't give a fuck if it's your last nerve that's been worked, and I don't want to think about the other shit you've pulled when stress has triggered you.

No direct comment on this case, but I'm going to put in a plug for the Australian novel "The Slap": [link] From the cover blurb: "At a suburban barbecue, a man slaps a child who is not his own." The novel follows the repurcussions through eight chapters, each devoted to one of the people at the barbecue. It's also been turned into a miniseries: [link]