Takin' My Frito To Tito

"You're going to die," said my dear friend Ms. Mahwah Kiss. "One day your penis won't work anymore."

I guess it's been awhile since I wrote, huh? Been busy. And crazy. Selling my home, leaving my wife, studying for the bar exam, hiring new people. Am I kinky? I forget. Such change is hard. One minute I'm an elated, grandiose dreamer and the next I'm a despondent little fourteen year old being dragged from my house next door into the home of my step father by my long departed Mommie Dearest. Mostly, I just don't know which end is up.

But it's all for the best. Never had to make a soul shattering decision so driven by money. It's looking good though. If it all comes through, I'll be out of debt for the first time in two years, moved into a new place in the FiDi, with a lower nut and lots of dreams. Really, when I let myself own what I'm about to accomplish I'm truly and deeply amazed.

The wife and I are generally on much better terms. Just before I saw She in Miami this last time, my wife snooped in the CrackBerry and found a pretty innocuous email to She. After a scene, I've actually had a couple of conversations with the wife about She, in as vanilla a way as possible, and I'm still alive to tell the tale. And today we ran into Ms. Mahwah's sister on the street in Tribeca. That, of course, set off a little Duane Street tiff, but as I feel my body for knife or bullet wounds, I'm still here, blabbering on my blog about it.

So, dear readers, Advo is alive and well. Dreaming some Sunshine State dreams as I learn all over again about the privileges and immunities clause. But to all who wonder if I'm leaving town for palm trees and Lincoln Road, I'm here to tell you - I'm in an Empire State of Mind.