I was alerted by Cinde around 11 PM tonight that there was a "Square Pegs" marathon on Nickelodeon. She also wanted to let me know that I was on the guest list at Fun, a trendy club under the Brooklyn Bridge. I weighed the two options.

A strong dose of great new wave music, 80s fashion trends, and an adolescent Sarah Jessica Parker? Or a really loud - albeit artfully designed - club?

Curling up on my couch in an oversized hoodie and reliving my high school years? Or spending twenty dollars on cab far alone?

Which do you think won?

Square pegs, square pegs, square, square, square pegs! One size does not fit all.

One of the best parts of that show (and there are many) was how the shy new wave guy, Johnny - or Slash, as he was sometimes known - was so good at everything he did. He had a cool band (the drummer was the former drummer from The Doors), and yet he was accidentally a gifted athelete as well. And he all wanted to do was eat and sleep and listen to music on his headphones. I had such a crush on him.

Also: Devo played Muffy Tepperman's bat mitzvah! And Bill Murray was the best substitute teacher ever! God, that show ruled.

A self-indulgent day turned into a self-indulgent night. I spent close to three hundred dollars today on bras, panties, and the cutest pair of shoes I have never needed in my life. I officially am a New Yorker, as of today. Ridiculous. And lovely.

This is what happens when I take a day off from work. I had to do it. I was burnt out. I'm working on Sunday anyway, but I just couldn't do it today. I still spent the first three hours of my day answering emails, but at least I wasn't there, you know?

I headed over to Soho at 1 PM to visit my old friend Faith, a former co-worker from my last, last job. I love Faith. Her energy is tremendous, and she's also easy on the eyes. She filled me on some of the changes at the company without any editorialization whatsoever, confirming what I had already sussed from discussions with other folks still working there. This once small but very fun and hip company had grown, and in the process had succumbed to a corporate language and structure. I didn't like the sound of it, but hey, I don't work there anymore, so why should I care?

I went into the offices for the second time in the last year, and got a tour from Faith of some of the physical changes. I looked for some of my friends there, but no one was around. I saw one guy I hated, and he and I actively ignored each other. Beyond that, there wasn't much to note, beyond some fresh coats of company colored paints, and the revelations of several promotions.

I still have a fondness for that company, both the employees and their fantastic output, but I've got no delusions left about the inner workings and motivations of the management.

Later, after hitting Victoria's Secret (Did I need the matching thong for my new peach-colored bra? No. Did I buy it anyway? I just couldn't help myself. I'm such a whore.), I visited Dante at his office. We gossiped for a bit, and then he encouraged me to visit Fluevog to seek a certain pair of boots I had been eyeing a few weeks ago. I headed down there only to discover that they still didn't have my size.

I almost made it out of the store, and then I saw these sweet little Mary Jane type shoes, with two straps and funky soles and I don't know what happened, I just don't know, it was a blur, a whir, and then, before I knew it, I was wearing them out of the store. Something strange happened there. It wasn't my fault. It was someone else holding that credit card. I don't know that girl.

But I love them. I love those shoes. I will love them for the rest of my life.

Even later than that I took a forty-five minute bubble bath, my hair clipped high up on my head, steam and lavender rising around me.

And even later than that, I dragged my comforter from my bed into the living room, and nestled under it on the couch. New wave kicks techno's ass any day of the week.

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