2006-07-04 - 2:33 a.m.

It’s funny how when you’re your own boss…events like "four-day holiday weekends" just don’t carry the same thrill as when you’re working for a bitchy boss at a company you hate.

In the past, when the 4th-of-July fell on a Tuesday…it meant leaving work at 1 p.m. on the Friday before (yay)…and not returning until WEDNESDAY…(woo hoo..!!)

For the past nine years I’ve had my own company…so now I am "da MAN(n)"…literally..!! And, since I can come and go whenever I want anyway, the prospect of a four-day-weekend/three-day work-week loses its guilty pleasure. Ironically, in fact, I usually end up working on my “holiday weekends" because it seems like a good time to catch up and get organized without client phone calls and e-mails to answer. And, in the end, you experience the same “re-entry” anxiety either way..!!

But, before I start sounding neurotic and whiny, i.e., “nothing’s ever good enough”…why don’t I just tell you how I spent this particular 4th of July weekend.

FRIDAY – My niece Desirée and I went to see the long-awaited The Devil Wears Prada, which was fun but only mildly fabulous. Meryl was frosty and delicious as Miranda Priestly, the faux Anna Wintour (though I could have done without the weepy “I’m getting divorced” scene, preferring instead the bitchy “That’s all” Miranda all the time.)

Anne Hathaway is just annoying in every movie she’s in (all TWO of them)…and, she’s equally annoying here. AND…I’m sorry, but the girl’s teeth are just too big to be fashionable. Stanley Tucci was tiny and believably gay-ish…but his “nice-guy-art-director-takes-fledgling-#2-assistant-under-wing” would just never happen in real life. Likewise, raiding the fashion/accessories closet at a major fashion magazine on a regular basis would also be highly unlikely. English actress Emily Blunt was perfectly overwrought as Assistant #1…and her line, “I’m just one stomach flu away from my goal weight,” was perfect.

Basically, the movie gave me agita…because I can’t imagine why anyone would want a stress-filled, tear-inducing job like that. AND, except for three or four outfits, the clothes weren’t really that fabulous either, despite Patricia Fields’ expertise and a limitless budget. Of course, I’m not exactly an expert on couture, considering I spend most of my days in cut-off capris, tank tops and flip-flops. The closest I’ve come to a “designer purchase” lately was a $20 Marc Jacobs “Give ‘Em Hell, Al!” tee-shirt. Okay…I also bought the matching $15 tote bag…b/c I’d just seen An Inconvenient Truth and have become completely insane about global warming.

SATURDAY – the perfect “no agenda” day. Well, actually I had a 1 o’clock massage at Body Central with Beth…who weighs about 80 pounds. Seriously, just ONE of my thighs is bigger than her entire body…!! The thought of her perusing my rippling relief-map of a body almost ruined my relaxation, but I got over it soon enough...as the “ocean wave” soundtrack played in the background.

Then I stopped at Virgin Records to pick up Regina Shektor’s new CD, Begin To Hope, which, despite all the hype and feature stories I’ve read about her and this new album, was weird and disappointing. I’ll give it a few more plays, but her phrasing and so-called “inventive song-styling” just gave me a “chalk-on-the-blackboard” wince.

Next…bought a pair of Vans black slip-on sneakers with white skulls all over them. They’re totally cool, but, like my beloved Converse low-tops, they have no arch and basically hurt after 10 blocks of walking. OY!!

Did a quick stop-and-shop at Duane Reade…picking up a few items from the new "Vital Radiance" make-up collection for us over-50 types. Can you STAND it?

Walking back across 14th Street, I passed a bunch of Latina princesses enjoying the 4th of July clearance sales. As they walked past a store that was going out of business, one of them said to the others, “Yo, mira...LIQUIDATION…I love that..!!”

Later on…got a manicure at Bloomie Nails, but the color I picked (“Dune Road” or “South-o-The-Highway” or something) turned out to be iridescent, which I totally didn’t notice until I was outside in broad daylight. DAMN.

Just before sunset, I rode my bike down to the Battery and back…wheeee..!!!...then came back home, read People magazine and watched a TCM documentary on the making of Gone With the Wind. Aahhh...a totally Linda-type evening..!!

SUNDAY – what a stupid day. I woke up around 8 a.m…much too early for a Sunday…so I opened my front door and retrieved the New York Times and New York Post…and got back into bed to read the Sunday Styles section and Page Six. Within 20 minutes I had conked out again…and didn’t wake up until 12:30…after having a completely maddening dream involving an old boyfriend giving me advice about dating…and scolding me for “always picking the wrong guys” (of which he, of course, was one..!!) So I woke up pissed off…and regretting the fact that I had scheduled a “Match.com” date for that evening. I just wasn’t in the mood for MEN…but it was too late to cancel.

I went to the gym and tried to treadmill that bad dream out of my head. Didn’t work. I breezed uptown to return two ugly belts I had bought last week…hoping that getting a refund and avoiding Elizabeth’s mockery if she ever saw me wearing one of these hideous belts would snap me out of it. That didn’t work either…and the dating hour was looming..!!

So, I pulled myself together and met “Schuyler” at Elmo. He said he was 58, but, alas, I doubt the veracity of that number. Online, he had sounded interesting (Columbia epidemiologist and Alzheimer’s researcher) and geographically acceptable (Chelsea). And his picture had a sort of “elfish-leprechaun” vibe with white hair and twinkly blue eyes.

Well…IN PERSON…he was pale as paper…with that crepey wrinkled skin that Celtic and Nordic types get. His teeth were tiny as a child’s and sort of “tan” colored (Eeeww!!)…and he had an over-all “pinched” quality about him. He was tolerably nice and not UN-interesting, but clearly “damaged” (sexless 28-year marriage, estranged daughter, "disappointing" son) and obsessive (he had written me a pre-date e-mail regarding “nose hair”…don’t make me elaborate). Anyway, we chatted over vodka-mint lemonades about this and that…whatever. He suggested getting something to eat, and, as it had started to rain and I had nothing in the fridge, I said okay…and we went to Le Zie just across the street.

Conversation went downhill as he consumed a couple of glasses of Chianti and recounted the sad/sorry tale of his status-conscious daughter’s dismissal of him because he failed to organize a birthday party for her at Mas. To add insult to injury, his former wife called him after a recent brunch to tell him that he “was utterly depressing" and that she never wanted to see or speak to him again. I gotta tell ya, kids…this was NOT cheerful date banter. I don’t care what kinda baggage you have…ya gotta check that shit at the fuckin’ door when you’re on a date. A first date should be fresh and fun and flirty…not some goddam Ingmar Bergman-scripted epic.

Well, I wolfed down my rigatoni Bolognese…and got the hell outta there as quickly as possible. I practically skipped all the way home (tra la la)…I was so glad to be free…and alive…and single…and relatively NORMAL..!! I stopped at Starbuck’s for an iced coffee and a couple of dark chocolate-covered graham crackers…so the evening wasn’t a total loss.

MONDAY – a full day of fitness frolics to work off the zillions of calories from Sunday night. Morning push-ups and sit-ups. Gym frenzy…including treadmill, elliptical, jump-rope, circuit training, etc. Home for a healthy protein-rich lunch…then a long bike ride along the Hudson. Gallons of water. Lawn-lounging. People-watching. Back home, did laundry, ate dinner, taped Deadwood for Elizabeth. Wrote this blog entry.

TUESDAY, FOURTH OF JULY – Okay…now I have to do some work. My desk is a complete disaster. I have to pay some bills and get organized. My website copy needs updating. I have to purge my closets of some 90’s fashion memorabilia. And, since I met last week with a promising young "celebrity photographer" who’s looking for PR, I must write an irresistible proposal…but keep it affordable…since he’s not exactly Annie Leibovitz…YET (that’s where I come in..!!). More gym. More bike. And a double-dose of “Dr.House”…the only man in my life who really matters. And that’s it, folks. No clam-bakes. No barbecues. No fireworks…unless I get a sudden urge to battle the crowds for the big Macy’s blow-out on the river (never done it…probably never will!!).

And you??? Share your “four-day freedom follies” with me, kids..!!


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