-So my assistant gets all angry this morning (on my behalf) because some publisher sends her an email essentially saying he wants to have a meeting with me just so he can tell me off. (I never like any of the books he sends me so I have her return all of them with our standard rejection letter.) My comment to her about this: ‘You know what, schedule the meeting. I’m in the mood for a good fight.’ My assistant then tells me I’m cool.
Then this afternoon my assistant mentions to me that the guy downstairs (who cuts all our POs and is admittedly a stud – at least in the looks department) has a huge crush on me. My response to that: ‘Yeah, I know.’ At that point she tells me I’m awesome.
Clearly my assistant is easily impressed. Still, I’ll admit to enjoying the fact that she thinks I’m a rock star.
-Why the fuck is Daylight Savings Time starting so early nowadays? I feel like I’m getting up in the middle of the night. This shit has got to stop.
-I saw The Bank Job with Jason Statham this weekend (somehow I managed to talk Christine out of seeing The Other Boleyn Girl – thank God), and I have to say…pretty damn good. Oh, and Jason Statham is too, too sexy. I want to lick him all over. (Overshare?)
-Christine and I decided to go out for brunch before the movie on Saturday. Now for those of you who don’t live in NY, it was raining like a motherfucker (is that even a saying?) on Saturday. And the place I chose for brunch had, well, closed at some point between the last time I’d been there and this past weekend. (I have a weird knack for choosing places that are no longer open – it’s a gift.) So anyway, needless to say we ended up having to find another place to obtain sustenance. So we started walking, and at some point I decided to just walk through a shallow puddle rather than going around it (hell I was soaked anyway, and my jeans were so weighed down I didn’t want to have to do ‘the leap’ either), so…yeah, let’s just say I misjudged the…um, HEFT of the puddle. In reward for my laziness I got an impromptu NYC street bath at the corner of 88th and 3rd.
I guess you can imagine the shape I was in when we finally arrived at our brunch restaurant of choice. Long story short I decided to self-medicate against the cold and my soaking wet clothes by drinking WAY too much alcohol (at least for noon on a Saturday), and because of this I arrived at the movie completely blasted. So for everyone who was at the 2pm showing of The Bank Job on the Upper East Side last weekend – sorry I yelled out ‘Shit, I have to pee!’ halfway through the movie before standing up and stumbling past a row of people and out of the theater. And…um…sorry I wasn’t any quieter when I came back. 3 mimosas and 2 bloody marys so early in the day was – in retrospect – a poor idea.
-The pipes in my kitchen are making this weird sound…kind of like a truck starting. Should I be worried? Do I have to clean my apartment before calling my super to come take a look? What are the odds that I get around to fixing this in the next month?
-The guy standing next to me on the train this morning smelled amazing. I thought I was being nonchalant about the fact that I was…um…essentially sniffing a stranger on the subway (shut up – don’t judge me). I learned that I was wrong when he turned and gave me a look that said quite clearly, ‘What the fuck are you doing, Crazy Woman?’ Have you ever seen a redhead blush? I mean REALLY blush? I looked like I was on fire.
-I rolled over the other night and almost killed my cat (and FYI, have you ever head a cat screech? Damn). I feel bad about that. Just thought I’d share.
-Did I ever tell you guys about the time I was doing Tae Bo (back when the videos came out), and I punched myself in the face? Yeah, nothing says ‘I exercise’ like a black eye.
-So Christine just called me to discuss this whole Eliot Spitzer debacle. Know what lesson we seem to have learned from this whole thing? We should have become high priced prostitutes. No, seriously – Christine (an Ivy League educated MBA grad) and I both commented on how much these chicks can make in an hour, and we decided we were wasting our lives in real jobs. Turns out every woman does have her price, and $1500 an hour seems to be ours.
And on that note – what’s going on with you guys? Still pissed I’m not posting enough? Is anyone still reading this damn thing?