Fighting stress, and Too Much Information.

I don't know why I'm so stressed out. I'm trying to fight it by doing more work at my company, buying Maggie flowers, and getting exercise. The more I think about it, though, the more I think it might just be because my back hurts.

Coming home tonight, the kids were out of their minds: fighting, argumentative, whirling balls of energy that sprayed noise and crazed vibes all over the place. It was both impressive and grating.

Okay. TMI time. The other day, a young woman I know (who's an actual model, and is kind of shockingly good looking), told me that I looked hot. In fact, she told me I look "hotter than normal." Liar though she is, I'm a sucker for compliments. Although it was on the day that I dressed all 80's-style, so maybe I was accidentally hip. She followed that up by saying "Your jeans, though. They're horrible."

I told Maggie about this (Note to men: do NOT tell your wife when a model calls you hot), and after giving me some highly-deserved shit, she went and bought me my first pair of totally fancy jeans. They arrived today.

I don't own anything like these. They fit differently: perfect in the waist, tighter in the calf... but... well... they're pretty tight in the quads, which is new... and, compared to everything else I have, they are really tight around the um, crotch. Like, really. Like, "hey, you're circumcised."

Maggie had me wear them for a while. She was like, "I'm so proud of you. I want everyone to see how much husband I have." Again, I'm a sucker for compliments. But I don't know. I'm not sure I can walk around NYC, let alone my office, with things so obvious.

I dunno. I guess I'm lucky to have this problem.

Love to all. Even you, the drugged-up dude who was nodding of on Union Square East.