Greetings from 'Salem's Lot

Well, here I am back in the East Village, garlic and silver cross at the ready.

Small world, small world -- at the end of my phone interview with the Connecticut company on Thursday, I learned that the HR Director is very, very good friends with an old friend of mine from the magazine publishing world! L and I lost touch over the years, but when we worked together we were close enough to go on vacation together. New Orleans -- old school New Orleans. We called it "The Hot and Sweaty Bathroom Tour." Suffice it to say this was not only a great opportunity to reach out and get in touch with each other again (she has TWO kids and SEVEN cats, holy cow!), but she talked me up to the HR person like I was Oprah Winfrey, Peter Drucker and the little baby Jesus all rolled into one person. Now how do you like THAT holy trinity?

Hung out with Baby Boy yesterday -- we went to see "The Queen," for which Helen Mirren deservedly won the Golden Globe. Then we traipsed around the UWS in our fur coats, chatting and smoking and being cold. Ran into some OLD friends of mine from my old Hell's Kitchen days and Baby Boy's reaction to them was "That was one of the nicest families I've ever met." I'm so lucky that my friends aren't assholes. Well, most of them aren't. Everyone has that one friend (or family member) that you have to "make allowances" for because, frankly, he or she is just a great big asshole. The one you have to say "Well, you know how HE is..." when he sleeps with his best friends' girlfriend, or steals money from your quarter jar or always orders the surf and turf when you offer to take him out to dinner...

But honestly, I'm very, very fortunate that for the most part, my friends aren't assholes.

And you know, hanging out with my friends has become fun again -- once I cast off the pall of the Shit Job, I kinda feel like I became a likeable person again. You know how, when your life is sucking, you get the feeling that your friends see you coming and mentally roll their eyes and say, "Oh, shit, here comes that pill again."?

I don't feel that way about myself anymore...

Hey, I got myself all put together this morning, and when I looked in the mirror -- shh, don't tell anyone -- I liked what I saw. I thought I looked -- again, shhhh! -- pretty. There was something bright-eyed and light in my eyes. Funny how I didn't realize how dead-looking and beaten I looked for most of last year!

Realistically, I have put on a couple of pounds since the first of the year, and you could call my figure zaftig again. Or as the old Married Guy commented last week, "Your tits look amazing, can I come over?" Gotta admire his tenacity, right?

OF COURSE I TOLD HIM NO!