07.26.02 - 11:57 p.m.

OK, do you want to know what I did today? I was in a photo shoot for work. I didn't just help out with the photo shoot; I was the g.d. MODEL. Yeah.

To be fair, it's not like I walked in ready to set up props and they were like, "Hey, you, get in front of the camera!" I'd known about this for a few weeks, but was keeping it in the denial box in the back of my head. Which is so weird. I'm an extrovert in so many ways, but in the hands of professionals, I'm silent nerd girl. Seriously. I wouldn't dance or anything and felt silly about sticking my hip out extra far. Meanwhile, I had a lead role in two high school musicals, have no qualms with semi-public speaking, and willingly made a fool out of myself at the Sig Derby lip sync sophomore year. There's no accounting for my sudden inhibition.

Plus, they had me in these brown suede boots that were just not me. Nothing against brown, or suede, I just rarely wear either, and certainly not together. I got to wear my own favorite red Kenneth Cole loafers for the "before" shot, but they provided their own accessories for the "after." And seriously, all my shit was way better quality that the stuff they were shilling, and I probably didn't buy it for much more. Because I am the QUEEN bargain shopper. Or maybe the princess, or duchess, or lady-in-waiting, because while I get some hot deals, I don't go to sample sales and claw out other skinny bitches' hair. That's a little too hardcore for me.

It was still worth it, though, because after being smothered in foundation, mocked for my poor skin condition, posing all hippily on one of those big white rolls of paper, and sneaking second helpings of the catered food because I felt like a big pig in front of all those who deal with skeletal models all the time, I still had three hours to kill before I met French for dinner. So I went up Fifth, strolled through Saks and found out all the crazy old ladies hang out in the women's room in front of the makeup mirrors eating chocolate. Bought a few, well-needed and/or deserved things. Was accidentally doused in Michael for Men after the sample I was oh-so-generously bringing home for Dan broke in my bag. And sat on the steps of St. Thomas' Church watching people go by.

And I have to say, French has really pulled his act together. Lost a lot of weight, his skin cleared up, and more importantly, he doesn't act like a spazzy monkey in public. We reminisced over the time Wooj made him chase a bat out of his apartment in the middle of the night, how I thought it was a good idea to drink half a bottle of tequila at his parents' house, how Dave used to try and make everyone go out to Dead Baby House, how they used to do the "special" at the townie pool but Ezra wouldn't dive, how French used to scare townie children, how Matty used to get naked all the time and walk home from Skip's with his pants around his ankles....we didn't call it the Summer of Insanity for nothing. We also agreed that that was the last good summer, the final hurrah before we started worrying about jobs and responsibility and the rest of our lives. Maybe that's why we went insane.

And we used to play strip kings practically every night. I'll have to put that one in his next email.