02.11.02 - 6:49 p.m.

Today's celebrity on my couch: Harvey Keitel. Having him there made me embarrassed to be eating my stinky veggie chili, although I suspect he may have secretly praised me for my healthiness. He seems like a slightly macrobiotic guy for some unknown reason.

Due to the chili, I've gone into premature food coma before I've even made it to my leftover pasta. I suppose I could save it for tomorrow's lunch, but that does not jibe with my gluttonous nature. So pasta for dinner it is!

Just had a lovely conversation with Dennis R. about living in Jersey. Apparently he lives in Holmdel, so I told him about Dan's parents and blabbity blah. Sometimes I don't know what to make of Dennis; he's a big exec, ex-Miramax hire with a six-figure income and because he used to think my name was Christy I just assumed he didn't care about the little people. Also, he doesn't have a real office or assistant here, so I never know what to do with his calls and it frustrates me. But he's been making such an effort to say hello and talk to me that I'm starting to change my mind.

Either that or he feels really guilty about the name thing.

I think I could fill this whole entry with work-related silliness. I think it's the constant IMing; things just seem funnier when they bloop up on your screen in 10-point Arial. Also, Cary snuck his dog into the office and having a cute-eared dog illegally running around is just making my day. Evan asked if Carey and I double-date, which also cracked me up, mostly because people make such a big deal of us hanging out in general. Julie calls our after-work drinking "the weekly rock-out."

But it IS funny, because of everything unbeknownst to Evan, because of how similar Carey and I are and how we both met our boys over the internet (well, she used match.com) and it just seemed like he knew all this when really he's just a smartass. Har. The only reason we don't double date is scheduling, really, and snowstorms, so we can't get together for wings or Dan can't come to the Donkey Show with us.

The whole point of this entry was to describe my mallratting adventures of the weekend, and how the parking lot was so big I lost my car, and how I tried on my first pair of Gucci heels (the bondage pumps!), but it seems that work has sidetracked me once again. Arrrgh. I suppose it wasn't THAT important in retrospect, but it felt like it at the time.

What's more important is the blatant misuse of "Moon River" by Big and Carrie on last night's Sex and the City. I can suspend a lot of disbelief when watching that show, such as Miranda's miraculous six-week pregnancy and Carrie's ability to buy Manolos on a journalist's paycheck, but this I cannot take. Carrie, no matter how much the writers may romanticize it, is no Holly Golightly! She is not! Big is not Paul Varjak!

I can't talk about this right now. I have to go help Alicia and her scary teeth.