It's snowing. Fuck.

My very good friend Dustin is in Toronto. Poor boy. He asked if he could become famous by my mentioning him in my blog (probably just an attempt to get laid). Dustin has just moved companies and is not happy where he is, so we should all say a little prayer for him that he finds something more suitable soon.

There is of course his "other" job!!!

Why is it when your boyfriend doesn't call one evening, when he usually calls every evening your mind instant considers catastrophe? Now should I call him or should I wait for him to call me. The fact that he worked like a crazy person yesterday has nothing to do with it.

So in the last few weeks my life has somewhat gone to pot. Having a boyfriend kinda does that to you I think. At the beginning you put everything into the relationship forgetting that you have this whole other life as well.

So, from today I am determined to everything back to rights. I have bought my gym kit in this morning so I can work out at lunchtime. My lunch today will be a large protein shake. I have bought a week pass for Will's gym at Columbus Circle so that when I leave his tomorrow morning I can work out there.

On the subway I started reading the book I started reading back in January "Life of Pi" (quite good actually).

I am also going to email all the people that I have let fall by the wayside. And I won't be writing a template email that I can send to everyone!

Am very excited by the next installment of America's Next Top Model tonight. The race is getting hotter and the bitchiness is running amok!

Work has been making me feel so anxious to the point where I can't sleep. So off I trotted to the doctor today to get some Lorazepam to chill me out. Only that I should have taken one and not two.

Now the room is slightly hazy and everything feels slightly like Jelly. I feel like I am trapped in a hippy sixties movie.

Again I am in a funk, but not as bad as yesterday. I am nursing a cup of coffee to wake me up. Stayed at Will's last night and slept like a log, which was good.

I haven't been to the gym now for almost a month and it is really beginning to show. It's just that work is so awful during the day that working out is the last thing that I want to do when I get home.

I need some excitment (of a good kind) to make this blog more interesting.

I am in the biggest funk today. I took yesterday off as a sick day, as I was genuinely ill. Will nursed me a little bit, but then Oprah came on TV and that was that.

Work sucks. My boss is making me do things that I would rather not - saying things to people that I would rather not say.

The only good thing about today is that the weather is gorgeous - 60 degrees. That is freakishly warm for New York in March. I remember this time last year, my face nearly fell off from the cold.

Christopher's Acceptance Speech for the Best Complexion in a Documentary Oscar:

Thank you! Oh! Thank you! I can hardly believe this! I feel so coked-up! And this statue - it's so suspiciously phallic! Oh, thank you again! I just want everyone to bow down before me and accept that even in my wildest fits of self-loathing, I never would have frantically prayed that this could ever validate my mediocrity. And to the other closeted homosexual nominees, I want each of you to know how totally mega-pumped your crushing defeat makes me feel right now!

You know when they first told me I was n't blonde enough, I just had to take a Xanax and brag about how generous my love scenes have been. I guess it all just makes me feel kinda cheap

You know, there are so many obsequious little people to thank! First off though, I want to thank the esteemed idiots of the Academy, who looked deep within their cold, black hearts before giving me this fantastic award! Also, I want to thank Vishnu, for being such a powerful force in my contract negotiations. And to the hooker with the heart of gold, who taught me to take life by the fifth of bourbon. And finally, to all the sycophantic talk show hosts - I couldn't have done it without you!

Thank you America, and good night!

Will has the most peculiar sleeping habits:

A) He has to sleep with two "blankies" that he has had since he was a baby. They have never been washed, ever (yet smell strangely clean) and are so thin that you think you could tear them with even the most gentle of a brush. He always takes one with him if he has to leave town, but does it on rotation so that one of the blankies doesn't feel left out.

B) He has to sleep with a huge long pillow between his legs and this pillow is not a pleasant sight. It is kind of brown in colour and features what look like coffee stains. I really hope that's all they are.

C) The air conditioner must be set to noisily pump out cold air (and New York is anything but warm right now!!)

D) A huge fan in the corner on must be turned on full

E) a noise maker in the corner of the room has to be set to white noise (which is admittedly much better than the sea rushing or the sounds of birds chirping in a forest, which are the other noises the machine can make)

With anyone else I would find these things extremely peculiar and would probably have to say "goodbye". But with Will I find them incredibly endearing and it has got to the point where I find all the noise very comforting and can actually sleep right through it (although last night I did take a Xanax and am still feeling a bit doped up even after a very strong cup of coffee).

He is apparently buying me a noise maker.

Anyway...he left at 6am this morning for his shift at the hospital and left me a note saying (I got up at 8.30am):

"WAKE UP!!! By now I have already resuscitated five people, given eight enemas and had six cups of weak hospital coffee! Get a move on boy!"

This is me: by the time you lot have read this I will have eaten half a chocolate pie that Will cooked last night, drank a cup of coffee, entered this weeks time into the company time sheet program and written this blog. This has taken an hour and a half.

Somehow Will's job seems so much more worthy than mine. I don't mind, however, that I don't have to perform urinary catheter procedures on morbidly obese women who can't pee. He literally has to fish around in their...erm....

So Will and I had the "chat" (in a good way) on Friday and we are officially "boyfriends". I am in that secure place now where I can stop worrying about stuff. I can think about Valentine's Day now without worrying about jinxing it!

I am wearing his school soccer top today which is a tight fit and shows off my chest to good advantage. Only thing is the armpits are a bit pongy, but that's ok. It has his surname on the back which is really cute and the girls are taking the piss out of me!

Am off to Chicago on Wednesday to do site checks for this event we are doing at the end of Feb. I am going to the Sears tower to see the space on the 99th floor. Am very excited cause I LOVE tall buildings...

There is an episode of SATC (yes, yes, yes - most of you are aware now that the program is my cultural and spiritual guide, bordering slightly on the obsessive) where Carrie ponders over what makes a good telephone call to that special someone. Especially what makes a good voicemail.

Well I have decided that I do not do good voicemail. It usually goes something like this...

"Hey Will. It's me. Christopher (as if I have to say this as my very British accent tends to give the game away). Anyway, er, I was just ringing to say that I am at work and I'm bored (big mistake - never say you are bored. It makes it sound like you only want to speak to them when you are bored). I've done everything that I was supposed to do and now I am looking at internet porn. Anyway - if you are bored too, call me back"

It sounds soooo weak! And I hate the word "anyway".

The problem is that voicemails put you on a little podium. For ten seconds or so you are required to be spontaneously witty, and while I can be spontaneous, I like it to be on my terms. Maybe I need to start creating a dialogue in my head before I call. Assume that I will get Will's voicemail. Especially as he works in the ER and can't have his phone switched on, because it could affect a heart monitor and kill someone. (I still LOVE the fact that he an ER nurse. He is like Dr. Carter. At least in my head).

I found out the other day that one of Will's nicknames is Buck.

I really want to see "Along Came Polly" (currently America's No.1 movie). The scene with the blind ferret hitting the trash can still makes me laugh out loud.

I was in staying in and saving money mode last night. Except that the saving money bit was a bit of a joke after I spent $120 on prescriptions (you have to do co-pays here - make me miss the NHS!) and then $20 on laundry!!!

Watched the Apprentice which I am slowly becoming addicted to!

Yesterday morning I met my friend James from the UK for breakfast. Mark my boss (the devil incarnate) joined us and we had a good old chinwag about David Beckham and Victoria Beckham and how their marriage is going a bit rocky due to David living in Madrid and Victoria hating the city (James does the PR for both Becks).

On the way back to the office Mark asked me if I still fancied moving to LA. My answer was very clear. No. Not ever. Not. I found this particularly unnerving as I really feel that I have made a home for myself in New York - I have my urban family, and I don't want to give it up in the slightest!

Will sent me an email this saying that he missed me last night. Awww.

I have always wanted to be known by CK or CJ (in the style of Allison Janney in The West Wing - also a fabulous PR person, not that our jobs are that similar, given that I don't work for the president).

However, recently my moniker seems to have become Pherk (christoPHERK) thanks to my friend Bill! While not CJ, I actually quite like it, because said in the right way it kinda sounds like "fuck".

Actually, maybe that isn't so great.

Anyway - came back from Miami two days earlier than expected due to the HUGE amount of money I spent in two days of being there. $400. Bugger. So now I am on a massive economy drive for the rest of the month, which really sucks, cause when you are dating someone new, you like to splash out and pretend that, yes, you do know the staff at Nobu, because, yes, you do eat there twice a week.

Anyway, with my two days off I spent quality time with Will. Went out on Monday night for dinner at Elmo before going a party at Sugar (round the block from where I live) to support Will's friend, Erikson (yet another cool name) and his new DJ'ing gig on Monday night. The bar was quite quiet, so not a HUGE success, but Will and I had fun putting vodka's down our throats.

Woke up at Will's yesterday morning and we lounged in bed and played kissypoo. Then we went to eat at this excellent Thai restaurant before going to see Concorde at the Intrepid museum. For those of you who don't know BA lent a Concorde to the museum, ad infinitum, last month. I think that it was sadly ironic that it was bought to it's new home on the West side, on the Hudson, by a slow boat. That said, it was quite a sight to see Concorde being floated up the Hudson.

After Concorde we went to see "Monster", which, if you haven't seen it, is great. The movie was really emotionally taxing (not exactly a date movie), but Charlize Theron was SO good (and also unrecognizable) as serial killer Aileen Wuornos - she totally deserves the Oscar.

Then after the movie Will showed me his domestic goddess skills by cooking me Macaroni Cheese after which we watched the latest installment of American Idol.

I am so confused by people who enter the competition - I mean there are these people who are REALLY bad singers - and I mean REALLY, REALLY bad. Why do they enter and humiliate themselves on national TV? Why? I find it incredible that they really believe that they have these great voices, which in the words of one contender, believe that they "want to share with the nation!"

However, the thought of one of these people winning American Idol is quite brilliant. Maybe, however unlikely, Simon Cowell will think someone is so avant garde that they will see them through.

My first day in Miami has been uneventful but relaxing and most satisfying on the eyes.

Spent most of the day on South Beach (the gay bit) and got FRIED! In a good way - my skin is subtly rouge, rather than RED!

Can't be bothered to write any more. Am feeling monged out! Bleurgh.

In days of yore, when courting someone, it was appropriate to buy red roses or, if you were very wealthy, to present your loved one with jewelry - a signature cut canary diamond necklace and earring set from Harry Winston.

In today's world a custom made CD, full of carefully chosen songs, is the perfect dating gift. And yesterday evening I got not one but two from Will, with an appropriate card wishing me all the best for my trip to Miami. Aw shucks! And I am only going for four and a half days. He really makes me all misty eyed, ya know.

Anyway - once I got over the gorgeous thoughtfulness, I began looking at the chosen song titles in more detail and began to ponder over their deeper significance:

"I Want Your Sex" by George Michael - good.
"Hot White Cum" by Liz Phair - tres bon.
"Say Goodbye" by Dave Matthews - bad.
"How Many Lix" by Lil' Kim - depends on my mood.

Why do we do this to ourselves? Or maybe that should be why do I do this to myself? Am I so jaded that I have to try to see the tiniest fault or flaw in even the nicest, most thoughtful gesture? If so that is really sad.

It does make me more like Miranda in SATC though, and I have to say that in the last few series she has WORKED, work, work, fierce, work.

So maybe it is good to be slightly jaded. Maybe it is a bit of armor to protect us against the shit life throws at us from time to time.

The shit today is in the form of snow. Lord knows how many times I almost lost my footing on the way to work this morning. It is deeply humiliating nearly falling over all the time. In some ways it is actually worse than falling over, cause you keep adopting these really unflattering poses to get your balance back.

I'm sat here at my desk listening to the Hannibal soundtrack - it's the bit where Hannibal is writing a letter to Clarice and Anthony Hopkins is reading it aloud. Really creepy.

I am SO BORED!!! I have almost nothing to do. Again - this leads to idle hands and inevitably checking out porn at work (I can do this as I have an office with a closeable door. Also no policy at downloading porn at work, which is really sexy).

I feel like I need a really adventuresome weekend so that I have some scandalous tales to tell on my blog, because I fear that it has become a mixture of the following..

1) Catastrophising over Will (although we were on the phone for another hour last night!!)

2) Moaning over the triviality of my job

and 3) and 4)

So with that in mind...

Roy has DVDs of the very early French & Saunders and we have been watching them. Comic genius.

Went to therapy last night (I live in New York, k? I HAVE to have a therapist. It's compulsory). We talked about Will a bit and we discussed my obsessive compulsive disorder when I start dating someone - the way that I completely overwhelm them by being way too full on. This is because I am basically saying "Think of me! Think of me every second of the day!!!".

My new mantra is..."you can't make it work, but you can fuck it up."

We have a date tomorrow night, on his suggestion. We spoke on the phone for an hour yesterday. He keeps making sweet comments about how handsome I am (I know!) and he sent me a really long email last night while he was at work (caring for very sick people in the ER - swoon...). These are all good things and good signs. Focus Christopher, Focus!

Also discussed with therapist the job situation and have decided that I must get my CV properly written and start applying for other PR jobs in NYC. I have practically nothing to do at work today so I have good reason to utilise that time.

Well, I have been back at work for just twenty five minutes and already I hate my boss again, hate my job and feel basically despondant. Great start to the new year.

This is made worse by the fact that I had the new kid on the block, Will, in my bed this morning and had to get up when all I wanted to do was snuggle against his warm, hard body. We were rudely awakened by my alarm clock. Still - we did fool around a bit and played kissypoo for a while.

This is still relatively new but I can already feel myself falling for the boy. He came round last night in his scrubs (he is a nurse at Cornell in the ER - obviously prompting lots of doctor, patient scenarios in my nasty little head) and looked for want of a better word, HOT! I am a real sucker for hospital scrubs. Makes me think of Dr Carter in "ER".

He is also from Missisipee (spelling) and has that great southern draaaawwwwllll. Mmmm...southern drawl....

We met on a hot and crowded dancefloor on new years eve and made out for hours. We have seen each other every day since then and this has resulted in my getting MASSIVE stubble burn from snogging too much. My chin looks like a massive scab - well not that bad, but pretty bad.

I'll shut up now about the boy. Am going to write my CV instead.

The day started with me stumbling across the delightful sight of a pigeon feeding itself from a pile of vomit. It almost made me wretch. I hope it is not a sign or anything.

Uneventful night last night. Went to the gym and then packed my stuff. Have three hours in the office today and then a press lunch and then flight home. Whoo hoo!

Just remembered that Linky told me last night that the fight that I stood next to at Crobar on Sat got mentioned by Richard Johnson in the NY Post! Helena! We are marginally famous by association!!! Whoo hoo!

Last night I was doorman extrordinaire for Sally's party at BoConcept. Got asked by some fat swedish git to pretend that someone wasn't on the list when actually they were and that were also the owners of BoConcept. I looked him square in the eye and said "I'm English" and he gave it up. I don't know what has got into me lately but I am so not putting up with any crap. I think that my boss's rantings have caused me to lose my sense of humor.

Went home rather than going to Beige. Meant to pack but crashed instead.

I want to come home NOW!