So I am in Boston in the bland hotel bar of the Hyatt Regency. To my dismay, they are playing muzak over the sound system and football on the TV and there is nary a hot guy to be seen. What did I expect from the Hyatt? Hmmph. At least I can look out at the Charles River.

Luckily, I am *mostly* too damn tired to care that the rest of the youngish world is out celebrating Halloween, including Dangerously Delightful Boy (as I have at last dubbed him), who is off at a party in Seattle with the five thousand attractive women he apparently works with, including his ex-girlfriend! Whatever. Clearly, I am so secure that it does not bother me one bit.

The real news of the day is I survived my six-hour flight, though we had to circle Logan airport for what seemed like hours before landing because of backed-up traffic or some such thing that I knew was really a THUNDERSTORM or something REALLY DANGEROUS down below.

Apparently it wasn’t, because we landed just fine after about a year and I’m still alive. Luckily the woman in the seat next to me was only about 2 feet tall, which made it easy to slip by her the 10 – and I kid you not – times I went to the bathroom during the flight.

So I’m here for a day to visit friends, then off to New York City, where I have I’ll be lunching up a storm. I get to meet my great editor for the first time, as well as some of the other people at Ballantine who will be involved in the publication of my book. I hope to impress them with my vivacious wit and charm so that they can do a really good job of selling Breakup Babe!

Now well. I guess I’ll go check out the cable in my hotel room, read a book, and go to bed. ‘Cause I’m cool like that.