Dear Michael

Dear Michael,

Is that you, sunshine? At the Museum of Natural History? It's difficult to tell because your profile is set to "private." And I've only met you a handful of times, but I do feel we shared a moment up on Samantha's roof that night(didn't we?), so I'm taking the liberty of writing you.

Of course, not having access to your Myspace profile, I cannot confirm the deed for which I intend to reprimand you. Mike, why do you persist in advertising yourself as "Single" when you are, in fact, "In a Relationship"? Your girlfriend is upset. It must ruffle her feathers to know that you log in, let's say on average every 24-48 hours, and you routinely neglect this critical piece of information! People are watching, Michael.

Man, aren't these social networks a trip? This week my roommate learned of a childhood friend's death through farewell wishes posted as comments on the girl's Myspace and Facebook pages. When I go, I want my online extensions to go with me. Because Samantha is an attentive observer, I am assigning her the responsibility of removing my Myspace in the event of my death. Promise me, Michael.

So, what else is new? Were you affected by the power outages? Have you met Rufio?

Things are rolling over here with me. I find myself getting irritated every morning by all the PEOPLE on my commute. Then the voice in my head gets bitchy and difficult to argue with. "If you don't like all the people, get out of New York." And I think I will one day, Mike. But then I feel the pull, and hear the Frank...what do you think: if you can make it here can you make it anywhere?

Best regards,




Bonstance and the nation are another year older, but no major advancements in fireworks have occurred versus year ago. In 2016, we believe the smiley-faces will all face up. Until then, we'll watch those sparklies,spermies,weeping willows,and green cubes. We never miss a chance to party on the roof.

Never miss a chance to party with the rich.

Never miss a chance to party in Shirley, bitches! Took the HRG crew out there. Plastic orange bowls, psychadelic wallpaper, and now fire! QT with Wurtz Wurtz. More dear hearts wake up to the strains of Jewel's "Foolish Games."

LM on the new relationship: "He's not an actor. He's not confessing his love for me after the first date, and he's not threatening to kill himself if I leave."

More on relationships: "He looks dumb, but he's so smart!" Or something like that. I chuckled.

This weekend I dreamt of Paulo Coelho. The logical derivation is Portugal being in the World Cup. Where is Jean-Paul these days?

Everyone loves Italian soccer players.

WEIRD NJ Marathon this weekend!!! I plan to document our expedition. Hannah, if you read this, please note that is three fucking exclamation points in a row. That's about as enthusiastic as I get with my clothes on.