I'm sitting here at my desk, a mess. This place is like a Nazi death camp. I think someone is trying to kill me. The windows don't open and quite frankly, I don't think they filter the air. So the filthy air is blowing down on me, plus the glare of sun is burning my cornea's into eternity and it can't help my eyes that I am staring at this computer screen all day. My eyes look like Christmas trees and they are watering like crazy.

This morning, on my way to work, because I can't come to work without something strange happening, I knocked over a small display of bananas in the bodega on my street and as I was apologizing to the guy at the register and picking them up and holding onto my paper and my wallet, I stepped on a banana. Is that bad? Is there some jinx that comes with stepping on a banana? Is my first-born going to come out covered with course body hair? Jesus, let's hope not! And for those of you that know me, no, I didn't slip, fall, break anything, etc.

Two of the campaigns I helped create and publicize last year won major awards last night. I was at home watching Dawson's Creek and Felicity and they kept calling me from the black-tie ceremony. NEWSFLASH: Those two shows are a little more important than some industry award. Have some consideration. The roommates were NOT amused with the influx of calls and made me take the phone into the bathroom to talk. No seriously, it's good stuff that we won but it's not going to change my life or anything, so who cares?

Worked out again this morning. I hate working out. Have I mentioned that? I get in there and the whole time I'm on the stairmaster or whatever, I chant, "I hate working out. I hate working out. I. Hate. Working. Out." That goes on for the full hour I work out. Makes me feel a little better acknowledging how much it SUCKS to be there. I've spotted couples at the gym together. I find that annoying. Yuck. Can't really explain it, but it's just all wrong.

So, on my way to the gym at 6:30AM, and I realize: JESUS CHRIST! Up until two years ago, I would stumble home on a work night around 6 or 6:30AM and pass this gym and see the people working out in the front window, before work. AND I WAS JUST GETTING HOME. Bombed and out of my tree, lucky I was able to remember where I lived at that point...and I would look at those people and laugh, and laugh, and laugh. See them reading the paper on the treadmill, decked out in their Nike gear. Me with my platforms, black tights and short skirt and remnants of make-up, sometimes a little streak of purple or blue in the front portion of my blond hair. And now I'm on the other side of the window. It's not so funny anymore.

But I NEVER work out in the front window.

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