So yesterday I got to work and there was a message on my voice mail from The Candyman giving me his address so that I can send him the proofs, and then he also said "I'll be in the city tonight for an audition, and I might call and maybe we can get together after!"

Note the use of the words "might" and "maybe". I did, which is why I wasn't mad when he never called. It was my very own choice to stare at the phone all day saying "Call me you bastard!

I looked fairly awful yesterday, so it probably worked out for the best. I was wearing my coveralls, which are really comfy, but they honestly make me look like I'm in my eighth month.

I swear, I didn't get a smitch of work done yesterday.

Besides staring at the phone, I wandered all over the office with one of the pictures I took saying "You wanna see a picture of the best looking man on earth?" and everyone sort of nodded skeptically, and then I'd slam that picture down in front of them and watch their jaws drop and their eyes slowly start to revolve.

"Who is that?" they would ask in awed, hushed tones, and I would proudly answer: "Umm...he's this guy that I'm sorta, kinda, maybe seeing...
...a little bit."

Here's what I'm trying to figure out:

What are all these guys suddenly coming onto me? I swear, this never happens, but the past couple of days strangers keep flirting and striking up conversations and stuff. Is it that I'm glowing like a pregnant woman (and boy is that ever true--the marketing director at The Company That Must Not Be Named is expecting and I swear you can read off of the glow coming out of her!) or is it the fact that I've lost another half pound?

That half pound makes one hell of a difference, it seems...

Of course, the other thing is that I have a new purse.

When I was at the Guggenheim with Jeroen and Anne-Marie, even though we couldn't get in to see anything we still went to the gift shop by golly, and I glommed onto this clear lunch box-shaped purse with yellow cows on it from a painting by Franz Marc. It was sixteen bucks, so I had to think for a second, but I'm getting five compliments a day, so I know that I made the right decision.

I'm so motherfucking cutting edge.

One year ago today:
I haven't moved an inch in fourteen years.

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Last Updated Fri 7 August 18:22:09 1998