08.22.02 - 5:12 p.m.

I cannot believe that full-grown, professional women cannot wipe off a toilet seat. Yet it happens. Daily. Maybe there should be something that comes out of the toilet and bites you in the ass if you can't clean up after yourself.

Brooke was tr�s impressed when I told her about Dan's new job here, but more about our relationship than the job itself. "You make decisions, you move forward instead of dilly-dallying," she said. Which I guess is true, but not intentional. Everything we've done is just something that HAD to be decided then and there. I was graduating from school - both Dan and the magazines were on the East Coast. My lease was up and Dan's wasn't. He needed a job and I knew of an opportunity. The timing has just been right, it's been more of a matter of things falling into place. We can't dilly-dally; we'd be homeless and jobless if we did.

Which is not to say I ain't happy with the way things are going. On the contrary, I'm very much looking forward to more dinners for two.

Amazing how I can get worked up over small things - like the disgusting, perverted mailroom guy leaving the ENTIRE MAGAZINE'S mail strewn across my desk - but when it comes to the larger problems in life, I'm paralyzed. I couldn't have written that note to her if I tried, but I'm ready to fight to the death for correct mail distribution.

Oh, and how funny would it be if Nikki actually won American Idol and Simon was forced to produce her record? Serves Tamyra right for that hideous hair. Next week: she bequeathes the straightening iron to Justin. Hijinks ensue.