Jealousy, thy name is Maggie

Damn those lovely, witty, brilliant Fugsters. Not only do they have the Best Intern Ever. But to add to my torture, it seems he gives great footrubs too.

Sigh.

Thank you, Dan Savage....

So I'm warming up to my workday by catching up on a few back episodes of Something Positive, when I overhear one coworker say to another "I knew you were a sensitive guy like that. I had you pegged!"

Good thing I had not just taken a sip of my tea, or there would have been some Dean Martin-style spewing going on...

Some creepy imagery

Just checked the stats, which I haven't done in forever. Good news is that I've crossed the 10,000 hits mark! You like me, you really like me!

Bad news is, people all over the place have been coming here by searching for creepy images. The most popular referrer by far is a Google Image Search to that NOT SAFE FOR WORK Anna K. picture I posted over a year ago. The next most popular referrer is a Google Image Search for my profile image. Which either means I'm going to get sued, or that someone's trying to figure out who I am. Neither of which is very nice.

For those of you who've never met me ...

... I've got a great rack.

Seriously, ask everyone who has already met me. And this is a lucky thing, because apparently A isn't much of a butt man, so my rockin' ass, which you all have seen on this blog, is totally wasted on him.

And that's all I'm going to say about A, becasue unlike all the other guys I've written about here in deliciously inappropriate detail, I actually like and respect him. And Manda says he makes me happy, and sometimes I need to be reminded of obvious stuff like that, but she's right, he does.

So remember when I was interviewing for this faboo new job, and I kept trying to keep it secret, because I didn't want to jinx anything? Same story here. The only person I'm telling all to is my realtor, because he is my New Best Friend and must know Everything About Me to find me The Perfect House. Or something like that.

The Clooney is such exquisite torture

Oh,this is killing me! Daily tips on where to see my husband, right after I leave town! It's not FAIR! I'm on the verge of moving back, just for him, and the new walls and floor in my old apartment, and to get my taxes done...

I Walk the Line -- of Shame

This kind of info would have been very useful in my Jersey-working days, becuase when you live in Brooklyn and work in the armpit of the Jersey ghetto where there are no decent stores for emergency clothes shopping at any time -- well, you can bring your hookup to your place or you'd better find someplace near the PATH that's open early.

Of course, I didn't know, so I used to bring them home.... Poor Siena.

And now this is all useless to me, but soon I'll put together my own list of resources for the Boston area. Inthe meantime, may it serve all my beloved New York peepstresses well. Walk the shame proudly for me!

Don't buy for me, Argentina

I know how much you all love me, and how much you New Yorkers are missing me already. So I just want to let you know, I already picked this up. But it is the thought that counts, so thank you!

Quick, make a wish!

This morning, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 a.m., the time and date was 01:02:03 04/05/06. If you're not committed to military time, you have another chance to catch it this afternoon.

A clean, well-lighted place

I wish I didn't mind, I really do. Driving out to my parents' house, a cute, fluffy little white bunny ran across the street ahead of me. Awwwww. (no, I did not hit it. It was not suicidal; I just saw it in my headlights waaay ahead of me.)

Driving around my parking garage at the apartment, trying to find a space, a HUGE rat ran out from under a car and into a trash can. Eewwwwww.

I mean, they're both just little animals -- disturbingly, of roughly equivalent size (that was one large rat) -- going about their lives. But now I'm creeped out. Like I wasn't freaked enough by the underground garage, between my mother's panicked calls to make sure I wasn't mugged on my way home, and perpetual viewings of old episodes of Alias, with Sidney getting attacked in a garage every other episode. Already I've been trying to park near the elevator vestiblues, and stay away from the low-clearance creepy damp end of the garage. But now I'm all afraid something's going to scurry up my ankles.

Fucking Big Dig construction, displacing all the poor, homeless rats and putting them in my path.

Oh, and the other freaky thing that happened in the garage last night. I never got a tour of my building, and apparently it's chock full of secret passages and back entryways. So last night I get in the elevator (18th floor views of the river, baybee!), on my way out to the folks, and there's a guy in there already. Very nice, pushes the button for me, lets me off first, holds the door open. I turn left and he turns right. When I get to the elevator to the garage (I told you it was a complicated building), he's coming from the other end of that hallway. We laugh, and I tell him I still don't really know my way around, and he tells me about the back door to the garage, and shows me the way. We get to the garage, I say goodbye, and walk towards my car (blissfully unaware at that time of the Rat Menace).

I hear a noise behind me, a strange building-type grinding noise, turn around, and see the guy right behind me. I'm not afraid of him or anything, but I take my key out to push the beep-beep button to unlock the car for quick getaway -- and the lights of the car next to me flash. He's parked next to me!

Too weird. At least when we exited the garage, he turned right and I turned left. I was half expecting him to be headed out to suburbia....

Get yer mitts off my husband, Gawker!

Oh. My. God. Gawker has now dedicated an entire channel to my husband. It all seems to be in good fun, but I'm just thrilled to have one-stop George news I can subscribe to.

Of course, I am equally sad to learn that he checked into the Peninsula and is filming in Midtown just as soon as I left town. That's just mean.

But that's okay. My new job is so incredibly kick-ass alsome that soon I'll be a super-famous but really nice columnist, and by June I'll interview him for said new film he's working on... and then we'll get maaaa-reeeeeed. For real, yo.

Not to sound ungrateful ...

... but when you come home to find your front door locked differently, the bathroom door shut when you'd left it open, the blinds opened onto the patio door -- oh, and the bed made and the rug vacuumed, it's a kind of disconcerting way to discover that your corporate apartment includes maid service!

Chopped Pickles

Ah, to be back in Boston, where you can get chopped pickles and minced hot peppers on your sub, like a sub is supposed to be!

Hey, remember the bachelors?

Seems like Daily Candy does; they've described them each pretty spot-on, too!