I wonder if anyone would notice if I stole a two bite brownie.

There's a special surprise at the end of this post, so keep reading, even through the boring parts (all of this post, essentially).

I need to shower. This whole "walking around like a New Yorker" thing is making my hair extra gross.

So today I was supposed to do an interview for PINK of one half of the former Savage Garden, but he's kind of wussing out and claiming "vocal rest" so I don't get my interview until Friday. And if that falls through, which Publicist has led me to believe it will, I'll have to resign myself to the dreaded phone interview, which obviously means less cool.

My first day at SI was so dull. Here's what happened, broken up by most interesting things:

I arrived. They introduced me to some people. They took me to my desk, where I don't have an email address. They left. Some reporters introduced themselves, they left. I perused the tournament scores for a while, then read some magazines (all back issues of SI), then checked my email about a million times. My boss gave me his ID to go to lunch. I did. I ate in the cafeteria 30 floors below SI all alone.
I came back. I fact-checked a photo caption. I did more email checking and reading about sports. I got my ID badge. I went to a five minute meeting. I did more email checking and reading about sports. I fact-checked another photo caption. I did more email checking and reading about sports. I bit my fingernail. I changed my shoes. I drank some coffee. I almost pulled my hair out after realizing how long I'd been reading about sports. I opened perezhilton.com. My boss popped his head into my cubicle. I closed perezhilton.com as swiftly as possible. He left. I did more email checking and reading about sports. They sent me home in a limo car.

So anyway, I'm hoping it'll pick up.

In other news, my apartment in the E. Village (which I get to move into on Sunday, woot), comes furnished and with a very nice roommate. Guess what else it comes with. Just guess.













A mancoon.

Yes, you read it right. An effing mancoon. He's not huge yet, but he is the biggest domestic cat I've seen to date. He's pretty awesome, and really, really sweet.