Saturday I woke up, without feeling like I was going to pee my pants at all times and feeling more of a dull throbbing pain like a splinter piercing my urethra, rather than my internal plumbing being lit on fire, so I guess it was a good day.

I really wanted to lay in bed all day and drink liquids and rest, but let's face it, I have a life. I have responsibilities. Welcome to being single and alone in NYC.

I dropped off and picked up drycleaning. I did 3 loads of laundry, picked up shoes from the cobbler, changed my sheets and headed up to Spanish Harlem.

I love Spanish Harlem, it's one of my favorite shopping spots in NYC. It's like being in a foreign country, but not.

Dollar stores reign every block and you can buy ridiculous things that will clutter up your apartment for just ONE DOLLAR!!!!

Cheap clothing stores roll out racks of South American clothing stitched by children who should be in school instead of poking their thumbs with needles during 16-hour shifts. I love to stop and go through the racks, never buying anything but using my browsing as an excuse to observe the 19-year-old girls with 4 children.

I like to go into the supply stores for the Mexican restaurants around the city and listen to the cassette tapes of Mexico's rising rock stars as I try on sombero's and shake morocco's and gourds.

Sometimes I'll ask a question in broken Spanish and won't be able to translate the rapid answer in Spanish and the sales clerk will smile and run two or three stores down to find someone who can translate the price of a fly swatter for me.

After a few hours, I rushed home with my supplies and then ran out again to buy a gift for a friend.

I rested Saturday night, manly because I couldn't drink because of the antibiotics, and hung out with my roommates sister who had been stood up. Basically, I quelched all thoughts of this guy being in an accident, monitored her use of her cell phone and played cards.

I was exhausted by 12:30am. I woke up early the next day and ran out in the rain to buy bagels for the apartment and pick up a cake for a baby shower.

I then showered, chatted with my roommates and headed out to Brooklyn.

I arrived, 2 days sober, to see someone doing cartwheels and beaming from ear to ear because she got laid.

Isn't there a rule already established that NO ONE GETS LAID UNLESS I AM GETTING LAID?!?!

It's such shite. I had a great time in Brooklyn for 3 hours (which is my limit for Brooklyn, anyway) and while I am at it, I should mention that Riot is the most beautiful expectant mother I have ever seen.

Exquistely glowing and all over happy, I just wanted to smush her with hugs she's so cute!!!!!

That's it for now, I'm ti-ti.

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