Dan, Dan, if your seed produced twins, you can’t be a total loser. I am further humbled by the news–this just in–that we share the same agent. Which kinda makes you wonder. Sloan didn’t get you this gig, did he?
I love a man who can admit to reading the wedding announcements. (All the good ones do.) And your theory of applying the principles of economics to mating ain’t all bad. The problem with investing in “turnaround situations”–fixer-uppers, in real estate parlance–or what we chicks call junk bonds is that you end up dumping way too much into them before they mature, and all the while you’re jealous of your friends who went with blue chips. But this is depressing.
Fortunately, my news day was saved by the arrival of the weeklies, delivered by Milton, the super-friendly mail carrier. Did Sammy Sosa really say, “I’ve never had champagne before?” Well, that oughta make it worthwhile. And I know we’re not supposed to be talking too much about Monica, but “I love you, butthead,” has now replaced, “Sir, the girl is here with your pizza” as my all-time favorite Lewinsky line. Personally, though, I am devastated that they redacted all the good stuff from the “size” conversation.
I know you have better things to do, Dan, like raise twins. So I’ll fill you in quickly on the only things you need to read in this week’s New Yorker and New York, respectively. Jane Mayer has a delicious little dispatch on Dr. Irene Kassorla, the trampy therapist and author of “Nice Girls Do: And Now You Can Too!” who was enlisted by Marcia Lewis to counsel and advise her daughter for the past five years. And they wonder. Apparently, Dr. Irene and Monica referred to the president by the code name “Henrietta.” (I thought only men came up with cute names like that.) And the shrink denies that she ever told the Weekly Standard that if she and Clinton “did it, we’d have to have penetration. I’d insist.”
New York weighs in with an item in “Intelligencer” titled “Monica Turns Down Head.” Apparently the Head sportswear company came up with this idea for an ad campaign featuring “a Monica-esque young woman (beret; kneeling) wearing a blindfold, across which would be emblazoned the word head and, just below her knees, the motto superior performance.” The focus groups loved it! (Of course they did. They’re used to expressing opinions on non-alcoholic beer.)
But the Head lawyers got all skittish. Bummer, I know.
Goodnight, Dan. Try not to get spit up on.