Bitch, bitch, bitch!

Please accept my humble apologies for the whiny entries as of late. I'm sure the 2 of you reading this -- Wendy, Rebecca -- will understand.

I had a horrible dream yesterday morning that someone compared my blog jottings to Amy Sohn's essays. Nothing wrong with Amy . . . I used to read her NY Press column regularly, curious about what other kids my age were doing. After a while, though, it started reminding me of when I was ten, secretly obsessing over the Guinness Book of World Records, fascinated by the pictures of the guy with the conjoined twin, the guy with gigantism. Only in Amy's world, they would be out trolling for hookups and clogging up toilets.

Soon enough, I stopped reading her column. And after awhile, her column disappeared. What happened to Amy? I remember wishing her the best -- as I had after hearing Elizabeth Wurtzel interviewed on the radio for the first time -- but expecting the worst. And sure enough, Amy reappeared. And, like the bug that got exposed to radiation, grew to 3,000 times its size, and started eating people, she was even more powerful and dangerous than before. She had graduated to New York Magazine. She now wrote for a magazine on glossy paper, in color.

So if you're in the mood for semi-embarrassing bitching, you can now go here. I'm going to try to, er, cut back.

I hope you're having a good day.