I compulsively reserve my name at various journaling/blogging sites, and almost never use any of them. I’m very attached to mon Nom Du Internetz, and the very notion that someone else might also be using it just makes me twitch.

I’m a perpetual student, never quite finishing a degree.  As a result, I’m rather the arm-chair expert in a wide range of disciplines, but am not able to charge for my services.

I am everyone’s favorite misanthrope. Nothing brings me so much joy as viciously flaying someone bare and bloody with words. Luckily, the world presents me with a near constant stream of victims.

I am still looking for true love, and hopeful that it is still looking for me.

I can generally be found flipping through Vogue or Vanity Fair, during nail appointments.  I’m notoriously faithless to my hairstylists, but I am devoted to my manicurist.  She’s also the only person to touch my feet, during pedicures.

I write about you, but not for you. There is a world of difference, my dear.

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