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Dear diary,

It has been ever so long since I've wrote in a diary. Ever since my last one was thrown away by my parents, I've just been so out of touch with this.

But, well, everyone doesn't really listen to me. After all, I'm a model. I'm not supposed to have brains, just looks. Everyone may love me, but that love is so... tch, darling, what's the word... superficial? I feel as the proverbial caged parrot, there to be looked at and taught how to do nifty things but not truly talked to.

I'm rambling... so I'll get to the point. My manager just told me today that I can't spend as much on clothes any more! He says that I have plenty as it is, and what with all the inflammation or inflation or whatever it is, that I just simply can't spend as much any more.

See, it all happened like this. I was out shopping today, and my dietitian and manager decided to go with me. While I'm touched that they think that I might be kidnapped or something, it really wasn't neccessary.

I did find it odd that my dietitian kept muttering about the Café de Gambino though. If he wanted to go there, he should have just said something. I wouldn't have minded.

But anyway. We went by one of Flynn's shopping outlets... you know, the one by the beach, just beside Cal's Hotdog Parlor? I went in and was shopping around, and the attendant told me they had just gotten a shipment of new Saint Patrick's day items in. Usually, I'm a bit put off by green, since it clashes with my hair, but I was up for looking anyway.

So, I go and I try on some of the items while my manager and dietitian make all those ever so important phonecalls on their cellphones. Then, just as I was about to give up, I found this one absolutely adorable little hat. It's apparently called the "Luck o' the Gairish", and it's just an adorable little belted green hat with a four leaf clover on it.

I took it and was going to the register to pay for it when my manager pulled me aside. He asked, "what do you think you're doing with that?" and I was all "just buying it, isn't it cute?" and he was all "you're over your budget for this month, put it back."

I mean, it's outrageous! Me, a model, being denied the tools of my trade! I just stared at him, because I was sure it was just some kind of horrible joke. But he didn't laugh and stared right back.

I was so upset.

Later, when we got back to my condo, he pulled me aside and started to try to explain that inflammation thing. He looked really upset at first, cause I told him it sounded like something he needed to go see the doctor over.

But, yeah, he was all "there's so much inflation now that new items are really highly inflated, cause it's very trendy for everyone to get the newest stuff even if it's not that great."

I was a little upset. I mean, did he just say that I had bad fashion taste? I mean, the man dresses in stripes, darling! Stripes! How does a man get off telling me I have no fashion tastes when he's wearing that!

Over a million Gold a month, that's how much I make with my shows, and I can't even buy a nice 18,000 gold item? I mean, maybe I can get carried away with shopping, but it was such an adorable hat!

Oh well, little does he know that I have contacts too. I'll just call one of my friends and have them buy me one... they'll drop it off in the usual place, I'll explain it as 'oh, must have been a gift from an adoring fan that saw me at the shop', and everythign will be just mar-ve-lous, darling, simply so.

Besides. My little darling Mochi Shawn pissed all over my manager's shoes. He's such a little angel.