"It's really hard to walk in a single woman's shoes -- that's why you sometimes need really fabulous shoes!”--Carrie

It's so funny--here in Manhattan a new breed of man has evolved. He's not available anywhere else in the world. He's Manhattan Man.

Completely self-involved, impeccably groomed (complete with manicures and pedicures), they say things like "ciao" and "fabulous"--but they aren't gay. They know everything there is to know about next season's Yves Saint Laurent neon collection, where to find the best gladiator sandals, and which spas are the best for oxygen facials--all while being completely heterosexual. Manhattan Man is this very strange hybrid--a gay shopping buddy who is interested in women at the end of the day. Strange, right? And this kind of strange a girl can get used to!

"I like my money right where I can see it: hanging in my closet." --Carrie

I open the door of my apartment building every morning and jump into the stream of people heading toward the downtown 77th street subway. The people tend to be the same--yuppie twenty somethings with Starbucks in hand and the latest fashions. In fact, every morning I am more and more mortified by my dated clothes. Next month I'll probably spend my grocery money on some skinny jeans, high waisted pencil skirts and some designer giant sunglasses. Getting over my mortification, I plunge into the flow, fighting for my spot in the fray. Besides the fashion--the smells on the street are what I notice most. The produce stand guy smells like bananas and body oder, the bagel place I pass every day smells like warm flour and the guy next to me smells like Axe. I love Axe. :)

Once I get to the subway, I'm ready to get down to business. I have my magazine--so I sit--pretending to indulge in The Best Workouts for Your Body Type and instead I watch people. This morning there was an old woman who looked like she could have been visiting Queen Elizabeth--pearls, floor length floral dress (at 8am) and a designer crystal cane--she hunches over taking ten seconds to take one step (which is very slow in New York time). A father guides his two children dressed in collared navy polos, a hippie with dreads bobs his head to imaginary music, and no one makes eye contact. But this doesn't mean people aren't friendly. I just think with the amount of people you come in contact with everyday, eye contact is exhausting. The rest of the world gives New Yorkers a bad name--which can be deserved--but most of the time just simply isn't true. I've been in lost twice while I have been here, and both times people have stopped to help me before I've even asked. That's way better than what I've gotten in other cities...

Work is busy. My bosses talk about Miley, Jessica, Brittany, and Anne like they are old friends. And for all I know they are. It's a little crazy. I got Season Three of Lost today--ABC sent it to Mindy after she ran one of their ads in the magazine. She didn't want it. That worked for me. I might be flying to PA for some training and LA to assist at our Emmy party--so I'm looking forward to that. I love travel. But not as much as Axe. ;)

I guess that's my update for now. I need to go chillax before I fall asleep--and do it all over again tomorrow.