"I feel sad."

For those eagerly refreshing your browser waiting for an update on the Cute Girl situation, I'll put you all out of your misery. I haven't heard anything. No response. Nada. I guess this means I shouldn't expect to get one at all. Unfortunately this lack of response doesn't put me out of my own misery. The bottle of red wine I bought from Trader Joe's and reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer helped.

I'm joining a convent. Seriously. Or maybe I'll go straight. I still have the number of the dude who followed me into a store on 34th Street last week, told me I was beautiful, wanted to be my "friend," and proffered me with a small box of Russell Stover chocolates with the declaration that I was his valentine. Never mind that I told him I was gay and, well, that should have been the end of it. The chocolates are still sitting on my desk unopened as I'm too afraid they are laced with cyanide to eat them myself or offer them to coworkers and I feel too guilty about throwing them away.

Speaking of God and guilt, I have decided to give up meat for Lent. I figured it was one step closer to getting my soul ready for the convent because I have ten years worth of lady action and gin abuse to atone for. The last time I gave up something for Lent was 1996 and it was chocolate. I remember the sense of satisfaction I had at the end of 40 days and 40 nights of chocolate free existence. I felt righteous, I felt smug. I'm not sure how I'll feel at the end of this and it should be easy seeing how I was once a vegetarian, but there's nothing like staring down the barrel of a long fast that makes you want to load up on contraband. For me I'm already having crazy pork cravings and Frank Bruni's New York Times review today of Momofuku Ssam Bar isn't helping. Oh the steamed pork buns.

Sigh.