Last night I had an overpriced meal with the script assistant from the show at a small Italian restaurant on the upper east side. Shešs pretty well-scrubbed, both mentally and physically. Shešs got peachy skin, and shiny short hair, and a wide smile. And shešs quick, and thoughtful, and an excellent listener. I suppose she would have to be in her position.

We were talking about what she could do for the work site, since she had contributed a bit last season. I like having another woman work on the project, and I think shešs a fine writer. Shešs also incredibly knowledgeable on the subject, and understands the logic and conceit of the site. Išd be thrilled if she could take on more work.

We also talked a bit about some script ideas she had for the show itself, and an interesting discussion ensued regarding the actual moment a bad boy (or girl, for that matter) actually becomes bad. She was talking about when things went from bad to worse, and how to document that moment. I thought it had more to do not with the level of badness, but the context.

For instance, when I started smoking, it was always in the company of other people, at a party, or in a bar, or even while sitting around a dorm room or apartment as we passed a spliff. Eventually it became about having a cigarette with coffee while I sat and chatted with my girlfriends. And then, suddenly, I didnšt need anyone around to have a cigarette. I was doing it all on my own.

Now Išm not saying smoking is morally wrong, even remotely on par with committing a felony of any sort. What I am saying is that I knew I had gone to the other side when I didnšt need anyone elsešs encouragement. So itšs one thing when people feel comfortable being bad with other people, and a far different thing when they feel comfortable performing bad acts all on their own.

In secret. In private or public. But still alone. Bad boys, bad girls, doing bad things to others and themselves.

Minds out of the gutters, please!

Oh, ok, maybe theyšre supposed to be in the gutters.

I had tiramisu for dessert. And two glasses of merlot. It was sinful. Also my whole meal cost $70. I felt bad, and yet so good. Would I have done it by myself?

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