odd jobs

*This heartwarming tale of the occasional triumph of beast over man has been making the blog/email rounds today. It reminds me of a story my physical therapist mom told me many years ago about a patient of hers who slaughtered beef cattle for a living. One day the patient put down her rifle, and a cow stepped on it and shot her in the back.

*I've learned that I would make a horrible gold-digger, which is quite tragic because I'm not a big fan of working. This summer I briefly dated a guy who works at this newly crowned four star restaurant that has FAB's undies all in a bundle. Before I got a chance to dine there, I pulled the ol' disappearing act (according to the column this is a guy thing, but what can I say, I'm highly impressionable.)

*Another stereotypical NYC man characteristic I've adopted is fear of commitment. Not in relationships, but with jobs. How can I settle down with one, when there are so many attractive options? Such as these two positions, courtesy of the Local Paper.