2005-01-12 - 10:23 p.m.

It's Wednesday night, y'all, and I've been dealing with a single model for three full days now. A word of advice if you ever find yourself in my position? Make sure that there are always two models at all times. So that they can talk to each other about their agents, or their shoes, or what they are or are not eating. Because if there is only one model? She's going to talk to YOU.

And I can assure you, you could not care less about one thing they have to say. Generalization? Maybe. I'm sure there are gorgeous women occupied with something other than themselves. Like Ange1in@ J0lie, for example. I personally have not come across any, however. And today, as I sat in front of my computer completely ignoring her, my current model gave me a twenty minute discourse on how different jobs pay different rates. I kept working, not even turning my head to look at her. Did she stop? No. Did she even NOTICE? Apparently not. Moral of the story? No matter how bad you think you might want to look like her, believe me, the brain is not a fair trade.

That said, however, there is a certain segment of the population who has no such issue. Especially when they're behind plate glass. Across the street. On Monday, said model was changing in an empty office. One with big windows. Now, being a model, undressing is no big deal - it's part of their job, they don't even think about it normally. So she went about her business, trying on clothes, parading through the showroom, and then returning to the office-cum-dressing room to put on the next outfit. On a trip in there to give her some instruction, I happened to look out the window, and saw something horrifying. In the building across the street, on a floor right above ours, was an office with big windows. And in the window was a man - a regular, grey haired, grandpa-looking man in a plaid shirt and khakis, standing right in front of his window, watching her change. With his pants open. And his dick out. Just like that, for all of Manhattan to see. I was horrified, and came out of the room to find 4 of my female colleagues at an adjacent window, pissed off. They then made a sign, out of a piece of cardboard and a Sharpie, saying PERVERT, and taped it to the plate glass. Heh. I don't know if the dirty old man saw it or not, because he um... finished his business and walked away. But goddamn.

I try very hard not to be prejudiced against the weaker sex, really I do. But men? You're making it really fucking hard.

And I can't help but think.... yeah, sure. You don't have to LISTEN to her.

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