16 Oct 2007 ›  5:00pm

Today I am completely and utterly boy crazy. I guess it’s because I finally have a date with a boy that I have scorching chemistry with. Can I get a hallelujah? I try to work but every two seconds I stumble down another rabbit hole filled with elaborate fantasies about (let’s just call him) Bloke. The fantasies vary, though strangely, all have a Radiohead soundtrack. In some, Bloke is hailing me a cab as I stand in a snow bank (then we shag), in others, he buys me a hot cocoa (there is shagging involved) and in still others we stay under the covers all weekend. I know it sounds tragic and desperate and girly, but oh my God! I really fucking want a winter boyfriend!

Surrendering to the fact that I could not possibly focus on anything work related, I faked a dermatologist appointment (if you’re wondering why dermatological concerns are always my cover it’s because I know that Claire completely approves. In her opinion, it’s never too early to cuddle up to a little Restyline/Botox cocktail) and hit Niemans/Bendels to hunt for the perfect, slutty fall boot. Every year I naïvely hope that one pair of magical boots will finally meet all of my needs. I know some girls can’t resist scooping up a dozen delicate heels each time they so much as walk past Louboutin. But for me, boots are my achilles. If I’m lucky I’ll buy five. And I’m never lucky. As I walked from store to store I was getting major street feedback. It was crazy. Even really well-dressed guys were checking me out in an obvious way. I figured they could smell that I was drunk on happy man-dreams.

Cut to: Checking myself out at a Bendels makeup counter and realizing that the top three (critical) buttons of my top were open. So I guess I got the drunk part right.