Gossip?

Are Gilda and Michael Boulgaris now frenemies? They seem to have removed each other from their respective Facebook pages, but, who knows. People come into your life for a reason, a season... or $35K pocket-money a month, whichever comes first.

Thought; Why is she now dubbed "Gilda K" in Le Media? Is a record deal in the making? Are her image-consultants re-branding her as a low-fat breakfast cereal? A tampon? You tell me.

On the same lines, one can't believe Metro thought Glucina's Sunday gossip round-up of Justin Timberlake’s Auckland presence was a winner – perhaps the Metro writers got a different edition of the newspaper than mine. My paper only had an entirely unthrilling account of how Mr Timberlake went through a McDonald's drive-through, and then someone spilt orange juice in the car. The obituaries were more titillating.

Glucina tried to get the McDonald’s security footage – bugger! To no avail. How my heart yearns to see Mr Timberlake's driver getting his change.

Glucina's sneaky snapper Norrie has a much more entertaining account of the "Where’s Timberlake?" mystery. To put it baldly – Norrie should be doing the writing as well as the snapping, and leave Glucina to hang around McDonald's drive-throughs, as she so clearly likes to do.

Notes

Well, I am back. I left to have a respite from the bleak days of winter, and was satisfied that I left Auckland in a howling storm of thunder and lightning last Monday, and returned to the same yesterday. However, while I was away, the weather was apparently marvellous! Summer-like, I am told, and sufficient for dining outdoors at the viaduct. I am peeved. My sojourn was – given its purpose – an utter waste of time and money.

Also, my nose got a bit sun-burnt, and has turned a shade of brown that does not quite match the rest of my face. It is not a good look.

Voters on my poll seem to be, overall, on La Saunders' team. However, I shall declare both ladies joint-winners, in my gratitude for providing a bloody good laugh. More of the same, please.

Girlfight

Well! It appears Fashion Week ain't over 'til the fat lady sings (or throws a glass of wine).

The Eighties is definitely back in style! We have the clothes, the models, now Dynasty-style girlfights. Normally I wouldn’t approve of such unfettered hurly-burly, but given the high-profile nature of the participants, I have obviously missed out on a hot new trend. I fully expect fashionistas and society mavens to be throwing glasses of wine and punches at every opportunity from now on. The sign of a successful party will be the number of guests who go home with blackened eyes and bleeding noses. How utterly thrilling!

So kids, whose team jersey are you wearing?


I have turned off the restriction of one vote per person, so feel free to cheat and fight dirty.

I am off somewhere fabulous for the week. I'll be back next Monday, so occupy yourselves with the poll until then.

Poll: Update

Dear God. I just checked my shoe poll. Thirty-nine percent of my readers own fewer than eleven pairs of shoes! Ugh. I am definitely attracting entirely the wrong kind of person. All of you go buy some bloody shoes before I have to enforce a dress code.

Shoes

My wardrobe is always a frightful mess. While I am obsessively ordered and neat in all other aspects, my wardrobe is my one exception to this. I call it my "Room of Shame." I have a tendency to just open the door and throw everything in. Sometimes brute force is required to get the door open.

I decided to tidy it up, and now the room looks lovely. My shoes, previously divorced from their partners in disparate corners, are now reunited, in neat lines. Mr Smith walked in, just as I had finished. "I never knew you had so many shoes," he said. I counted. I only have forty-three pairs (not counting trainers, and the slip-on type of shoes that I wear around the house). I don't think that is a lot at all. I imagine most women have loads more.

I did an informal survey. The Baltic Bride claims only twenty pairs! (However, her husband was in ear-shot, so that may account for the modest number. She had told him a jacket she bought was only $1,500, but when he checked the credit-card bill, it was closer to $3,000, so I think her shoe count should be disregarded). Ms W loftily declared fifty pairs, although when I said that trainers and slip-on, jandal-type things don't count, she insisted they did (they don't).

So... how many pairs of shoes do you own?