Andrew J. Lederer

The cranky owner (or manager) of the gym I've been going to doesn't like it when I sit on the couch in the lobby after a workout, using my laptop to, among other things, "talk" to you. (That makes him your enemy.)

2 days ago, he claimed there were "ladies" coming in who needed to sit, but there were plenty of open seats and I'm always conscious of whether somebody needs space. (To those friends who are laughing now, I meant only in this context.

So, now I'm in the Dunkin' Donuts a few doors from the gym. I don't wanna sit here too long 'cause I can't afford to buy a donut or something to dunk it in. I'm waitin' on the check for Onion Radio News and I worked all week ('cept Monday) at that new writing job, but in real time, I can buy a bag of crisps (Hi, England!) or a New York Post and that's about it.

Meanwhile, I paid for my membership at the gym and I can't sit there. (Karma for my free trial abuse?)

Turning to other concerns I'm missing the old movie convention is Syracuse this weekend 'cause of the no money thing. (Related -- London)

And my friend, who'd been keeping me in bourbon, calamari, and comradeship all week, finally grew tired of having a non-tax deductible dependent yesterday, so when we went to the movies ("300" and "Zodiac") -- which he paid for -- I had to watch him eatin' snacks and drinkin' pop (ooh, I said pop instead of soda), while I sat there parched and hungry but for the sustenance offered by the cinema.

Oh, for the limitless, meal-covering patience of Jerry Beck and those El Pollo Loco dinners of old. (I haven't talked about them yet, but I will.)

Hey, you know what I just noticed? It doesn't even smell like donuts in here. That's really helpful when you're not gonna buy anything.

Should I go down to my sisters' and their kids in Virginia while I wait for my money to come in? I'd get fed, be in the bosom of those I love and it would give my face a break from the constant tugging of my computer-heavy backpack.

Lemme know.

Okay, I guess I should leave this chain bake shop (they have Baskin-Robbins ice cream too!) and head toward a home-cooked lunch in another friend's Greenwich Village manse. (Can you have a small manse in an apartment building?) If I'm any judge of these things, the new DVD of "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour" (sic) will be on the menu too.

'Til tomorrow --