12.03.01 :: 10:18 am

So, I spent Britney Spears' birthday yesterday editing Laurie's thesis and what we got is a ten minute infomercial on collapsible evening bags.

Pretty neat.

I worked my ass off at the restaurant and thoroughly enjoyed the pranks pulled on me by the cooks and the dish washer:

"Where's my cell phone, guys? I left it right here."

"I didn't see it."

What followed was a half hour of me frantically looking under tables, in the bathroom, in various cabinets...

"Guys? Seriously? I think someone stole my phone?"

"Call it. It's probably around."

I call my phone. Ring Ring.

I hear ringing! Where's my phone? The oven.

Hardy freaking har, guys.


Over in the domicile department, looks like My Boy and I will be moving into the new digs on Palisades on the 15th, if everything goes as planned, and if we pass a credit check and blah blah blah movingcakes.

Anyway. I hope all goes well, needless to say, because I so deserve that loft.

Yes. A loft.

And not to get all braggy or whatever, but it's fanfuckingtastic. Huge. Washer and dryer and dishwasher all in the apartment. 2 bedrooms. 2 bathrooms. LOFT LOFT LOFT LOFT LOFT for (relatively) cheap.

And the view of the Manhattan skyline from the park a few blocks down brings warm fuzzies to this heart. Seriously.

The best part? It's a "Pets Welcome" building.

So. Cross your fingers, fearless readers.

We so want to kick off the new year in style.

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