2001-07-11 :: 9:52 a.m.

Somewhere between a 12-ounce martini and the chatter of girls who work at Vanity Fair, My Boy and I made a conscious decision last night to get our asses in gear, find what we want to do with this life, and make some money doing it.

Not as easy as it sounds.

"But if worse comes to worse, you can always move in with me," and boy we laughed, after I got extremely worried over that prospect.

I will not lose my apartment, I will not lose my apartment, I will. Not. Lose. My. Apartment.

Lately, the only thing that's exactly right is us. Everything else and surrounding isn't up to par yet.

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