'cause all I ever have in mind is ...

Last weekend — or was it the weekend before? — Dollie accused me of being "man crazy." Man crazy. Imagine? Just for fixating on some smiley eavesdropping dude who came into Jerry's in a Mets hat and told us when the new Garden was built (Hey, if you're that man, you could call me. Go back to Jerry's and they will tell you how to).

See, the thing is, I never get to see new boys. Lucky people who work in stores don't understand this. I see the same people every day, and of course I wouldn't like any of them — no office crushes for me since c. 1999 and Baseline Jeff (Hey, if you're that man, you could call me. Go to Jerry's and they will tell you how).

So yeah, new boys are very interesting to me. Like the guy who picked up my laundry this evening, for example. He was so smiley and tall and nice, and even complemented my (totally fantastic, as it happens) doormat. Hey, if you're that dude, call me. Or, you know, just bring back my laundry tomorrow.

There's no Rangers hockey until Saturday, so I'm pretty hard up for boy time. I'll not apologize.