Just finished e by Matt Beaumont, the story of a London ad agency pitching for a campaign told entirely through e-mail messages. Hysterical. Plus, there's the added extra-special bonus of getting to match the people you work with against characters in the book. We all agree that Andy is very much Pinki, but I think Mary's got her own character wrong. She's picked herself out as Ken, which kinda fits, but I see her as more Lorraine, for the attitude. No, I don't think you'd be dropping your knickers in the elevator bay, but I can see you telling people exactly what you think. And the nail file isn't entirely out of the question, either.

As for me? I thought I was Harriet from the beginning, but nope. No way in hell, toward the end. I hope for Melinda. I fear Daniel.

Now trying to decide whther to hie my ass over to The Hideout, a bar I've never been to, to see some bands Rob recommends. They sound very tempting -- a Slavic/Latin/Polka/Punk band, and a Country/Gospel/Satanish band. The only problems are (1) it's a school night, as Tim Hill used to say, (2) it's an out-of-the-way place (hence the name), and (3) my friends are tending to hear the first two "buts" and decline my invitation. Do I want to hie my butt over there alone? Dunno yet. We shall see.