Dinner tonight with my old pals from Chicago; lovely as always.
And oh, my God, I might actually have this joint sold! We're on buyers number three at the moment, and the appraiser is actually coming on Tuesday, which means we just might be on our way...which would be lovely, since my entire personal fortune at the moment stands at 1.47 in the bank and 16 cents in my purse. Thank God the gals always insist on buying my meal...
And I would like to make some deeply personal and highly unprintable remarks about the damn subway which, in its wisdom, decided NOT to go to Christopher Street tonight, but to go directly from 14th Street to Chambers, thus leaving me a much longer walk home. This wouldn't normally be a problem, but A. it's raining (for which thank God) and B. I had three beers with dinner. Growl. (No, no, I didn't go to Chambers Street, but I had to get off at 14th, which adds six blocks to my walk home.)
Now I have many other things to talk about, but I'm leaving them for tomorrow evening, because right now I have to go and drench my hair with setting lotion and put it up in big rollers and pin curls. This is not something I'm doing purely out of boredom (I can imagine doing, and in fact have done, many terribly odd things out of boredom...both of my marriages, for instance...but never anything involving rollers and pin curl clips). No, it's because Grant Wilfley (you remember, my usual casting agency) has an open call tomorrow for, among other things, 1960's secretaries for Men in Black III. I have a wonderful '60's style pinstriped black sheath dress, I have the obligatory pearls that go with it, and I have the four inch spike heels...all I need to do in the morning (after the rollers, etc.) is tease the head out of all recognition and beehive myself to death, add a LOT of black eyeliner and red lipstick, and I'm good to go. Luckily I'm used to some odd looks on the subway...and anyway, this being New York, nobody really pays much attention. Hey, with any luck, they'll think I'm Dita Von Teese!