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Miss Penny came over Tuesday night and happily noted la collection of empty coffee cups and dirty wine glasses on my desk. She was in fine form, I must say, what with her black bob (a.k.a. "cancer" wig), black tassled scarf that Stevie Nicks might have cut her for, and a breast hugging, green evening gown over sweatpants and running shoes - party on top, business on the bottom, ya'll. I didn't want Penny to feel out of place or over dressed or anything so I draped myself in a platinum wig, a faux fur hat, and rubber Jayne Mansfieldian falsies, the kind that have nipples that point east and west. It was my revolutionary costume.

I think I have a new favorite Brooklyn bar, though I've only been there once. It's called Barn and it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I want to do art projects on their back tables - like with popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners, and elbow macaroni. Or maybe I could lie down on a big piece of newsprint on the floor while someone traces my outline and then I could make a collage inside my body with pictures of Christopher Atkins torn out of Teen Beat magazine with Elmer's Glue and some glitter. Don't all start going to Barn, though (because I know how much you want to do everything the same as me). Unless you're cute and maybe you have a van.

Photo by Miss Penny. No idea from whence that dog came.