2002-02-01 - 6:06 p.m.

So, I'm getting sick. The boyfriend came home from his trip with some heinous flu thing, and although I have been taking vitamins and echinacea like mad, I haven't been sleeping well and I think it's creeping up to kick my butt. I'll be on the couch tonight, or in the tub, with soup and movies. I have a lot of plans this weekend, but I'm going to have to take it easy if I don't feel better, as I can't be calling in sick already.

I went out to lunch with Jerry today, and we ran into a girl we used to work with, Trixie. So named by my southern girlie friend Liz, who hissed to me, "Look at that little..TRIXIE...skipping around after her boss and batting her eyelashes."

She was one of THOSE girls. She was actually quite nice when all us girls were out smoking cigarettes on the fire escape, but get her within 50 feet of a body with a penis and she undergoes a complete transformation. Hair-twirling, tattoo-showing, eyelash-batting, giggling. I had heard that about her, but was still unprepared for the shock of it when I first saw it with my own eyes. It was horrifying.

She'd be out there with us, rating her current boyfriends by their abs and their bankbooks, laughing about the cruel little things she does to them. But let a man in the room, and she's Marilyn Monroe. Frightening, really. She gives all of us a bad name.

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