Who I live with

Let me take this opportunity to profile one of the lovely ladies of the apartment. Today's tenant: Aye (pronounced "A").

Tall , blonde, 5 foot 6. Hot. Like classic hot blonde hot. Dating some dude in banking. Think he's loaded, or so I get the impression of since she brags about the summer house, the sailboat at the shore and "our trip to Aruba." If the girl makes it past Jersey, I'll be surprised.

Number of guys she's escorted into our apartment since my arrival: four
Number of purses: ten
Number of trips to the gym in the last week: one
Number of times she walks me throughout the day: twice
Number of drunken nights spent outside of the apartment in a year's time: ten

The best thing about Aye——she's in sales. So we get a lot of time together. She's home in time for her and I to catch Oprah at four in the afternoon on her busiest days. Means I can escape the apartment to frolic with my furry boyfriends while the sun is still high.

Aye is smart enough to know the best things in life are expensive but often has cheap taste (I saw those fur Ugg-esque boots from Mandee that you claimed you got from Bloomingdale's... who are you kidding?!). Depsite that, she's my fave.

Today's adventure brought Aye and I to Duane Reade, where we spent twenty minutes in line waiting to pay for a box of tampons. That means I lost the equivalent of six months of my life in a drugstore. I will never understand why Duane Reade is the most consumer unfriendly establishment. The pharmacy is in the farmost corner of the store, there are never enough cashiers, and there's always a fight between some disgruntled patron and an unsympathetic store clerk. If I were in need of tampons, I'd rather buy them at the corner deli where although the selection is few, the efficiency is unparalleled.

Plus I get to lick the lettuce, potatoes and other selected vegetables the shop guys store on lower hanging shelves. Tasty.