I Bought This Windbreaker at Rainbow

My colleagues have already said it, but it’s been a LENGTHY week over here at A&P. It’s Friday night, I’m doing actual work, and I didn’t get to see the Ghost Whisperer for the second week in a row mostly because I misplaced my keys in my own home last night and left the house today anyway which is something you should NEVER ever do. Life is hard and tiresome and some days I wish I were a vampire instead of a werewolf and could just live in a carwash or under a freeway without having to eat or blow my nose.

I have something else to tell you. Did you know that Mario Batali, in his home, in fact, in all of his homes, has a refrigerator filled entirely with Dom Perignon Rosé? The point isn’t that Mario is some kind of gimmicky fag, and it isn’t that he’s an overindulgent bastard who clogs about, rosaceuous and out of breath and it isn’t that the man at the forefront of Italian cuisine in America is unforgivably and inexplicably redheaded and it’s certainly not like he only drinks pink champagne.

Of course I don’t actually think there is a point. Look, the dude probably bathes in it when he needs to calm himself down from a crack high or something. There’s the kind of week in which you go about your week and then there’s the kind of week where you’re inside your own head arguing with yourself about Heidegger and Olivia Newton John and the way people and things sort of come and go and sometimes you know why and usually you don’t but it happens anyway. The kind of way a dude who wears ORANGE CROCS knows well enough to keep booze that matches Paris Hilton’s chihuahua on hand. Like maybe the only choices that you can rely on to be merciful are the ones that are the least cerebral.