So I haven't updated, sue me.

I'm ferkin' busy. I haven't thrown myself into the East River or anything glamorous like that. Just doin' my thang.

Right now, I am mourning Joey. Poor Joey. Dead at 49. An icon. The man about town. MyfriendJen sat next to him at brunch just two months ago. And now he's gone, to join Nancy and Sid for the big gig in the sky. I rather like that image. Or Joey, meeting Jimi and Janis, Jim and Jerry for cocktails. Funny how all of my favorite musicians' names start with "j"...but I digress.

Some of you have created some rather brilliant updates of late. I like that. And for the record, 1) My baggage was locked and sealed early on and thrown into the Atlantic Ocean (what do I need to carry that shit around for - it keeps accumulating regardless) and 2)New York City is all about finding family.

*~*

This weekend I spent some time with a my oldest friend. The one who recently got married. We caught up on our lives and our other friends. Their goings and comings. And I came to a startling conclusion. We have, among our group, a Dicky*, Tom* and Marge*. Of "The Talented Mr. Ripley" fame. That's right.

Now, while watching beautiful people living fabulous lives such as Jude, Gwynnie and Matt did in the film can be quite spectacular and mildly entertaining for a few hours, it is not entertaining when you travel in a pack with them.

In fact, we find it outright annoying. I mean, who are these people I know in their early 30's whom have barely worked since college?

Let me tell you about Marge. Marge, whom is great fun, really she is - is a bit fickle. She worked in DC, Phillie and then in New York for a bit, all the while living in fabulous apartments and living far beyond the means of an average late-twenty something allegedly supporting herself on the salary of an assistant to Wall Street Trader. In her late-20's she decided she wanted to move to San Fran. Then she decided she was going to back to school. Not for a masters in art history, which she has a degree in, but for an MBA. In International Business. Or something like that.

Interestingly enough, this pursuit of degree meant living at home and kinda hanging out. It also meant, 6 months in Paris living in a swanky apartment on the Left Bank, followed by 6 months in Toyko in an equally swank place. These alleged business school travels were followed by a trip with her sister (not studying anything) to India for 6 weeks. I found all of this very interesting.

While Marge was *studying* and I do use this terminology very loosely, we were all invited to visit. In fact, we were encouraged to visit. But due to the fact that my parents cut me off the family payroll several years ago, it wasn't in the budget for moi.

Marge has been back in the US for about 9 months now. She allegedly has an offer from the *bigtime computer company* that shall remain nameless but they have only offered her stints in places that are not desirable to her, ie - Boston, Washington and Texas. Marge is just not interested in moving to those places and therefore, may just pass on the sweet offer made *bigtime computer company*.

And then we have Dickey. Actually Dickey and Tom are interchangeable, it's really like 2 Dickey's. But for the point of this entry, we'll split them up. We have Dickey, who hasn't ever worked. He's about 33. Great looking guy. Private school all the way, Jesuit college. Basically, he lives at home and hangs out. Impeccably dressed and bred. He's like a thoroughbred who's never been shown. He alleged started up an *internet company* and again, I use that term loosely, a couple of months ago, but given the current climate I think we all know what happened. So basically, he hangs out at Tom's all day - pulls tubes and reads.

Tom, and really Tom should be Dickey but since Tom is newly unemployed and has worked the most of all of these people, we'll make him Tom...Tom is also private schooled and Jesuit college matriculated and recently lost his job. Not laid off, no. Lost as in, "incident." Lost as in, drinking/driving/police warrents/backlogged court dates...and then throw a night out with clients into the mix and you get the picture. But I'm not sure if you can really classify him as working the whole time as 1) he took a year off at 27 during which time he hung out and sunned himself until one day he said, "Self, I think I'm going to get a job and do this whole 9-5 thing people talk about," and 2) he's been working out of his swanky apartment for about a year and this basically means a few calls and e-mails, a lot of rented movies and pulling tubes with Dickey whom basically lives on Tom's chic sofa. But Tom is impeccably dressed while pulling tubes, and really doesn't that make all the difference? Shanghai-Teng custom made shirts, Burberry suits, Bally shoes. Dickey is more of the All-American Ralph Lauren kind of guy. Marge runs the gamuit - Searle to Bebe. She'll have to step it up if she *really* wants to be Marge.

Marge, Tom and Dickey have all banded together. So at any given time you may pass by one of the swanky restaurants in off of Rittenhouse and see the 3 of them seated outdoors in all of their chic fabulousness, lunching and polishing off several bottles of the finest Cote Du Rhone in the middle of the day.

At the wedding a few weeks ago, they all stayed a few extra days at the Four Seasons and ordered room service, movies and buckets of the hotel's finest champagne. Tom picked up the tab.

When I went to the Delano in February for the fabulous bachelorette, Marge pressured me to stay an extra day or two. She even called the airline and rescheduled my flight, much against my will.

Last week, they jetted to Palm Beach, for some quick sun and fun. Why not, when you can just stay at Marge's grandmother's? I believe, last month, they headed to Marge's family place in Jackson Hole.

Personally, I find all of this to be a rather amusing juxtaposition as I scurry through this concrete jungle trying to make an honest buck and pay my rent on time. But frankly, this weekend it was decided that Marge, Dickey and Tom really need to stop with the pretenses. I mean, we know they are not going to get jobs. They are not like the rest of us. They live *the life.*

It's all rather amusing now, but come summer, when they are all lounging around at our beach houses - it's gonna break me. I'm gonna end up the Philip Seymore Hoffman character.

Oh, excuse me - the maitre 'd is calling my table..."Bitter, party of 1...Bitter, party of 1..."

previous next