I now know my manly upstairs neighbor's dark secret: he watches the Golden Girls and The Nanny on Lifetime...and he likes it, if his loud guffaws at Estelle Getty's every bon mot are to be believed.

On the other hand, he probably knows my dark secret as well: occasionally, I accept Academy Awards for Best Actress and when I do, I do it wearing a fabulous Carolina Herrera dress. Or my oversized terry cloth robe. Whatever.

And my "Oscar" is an Eiffel Tower pencil sharpener I got for coming in second in a Frech recitation competition. I lost to the girl who did a children's nursery rhyme rolling around on the floor, having what I think might have been an orgasm. Who can follow that act, I ask you?

I recited 'Tristesse' by some moody French guy. And frankly, it just wasn't orgasmic.

J'ai perdu ma force et ma vie,
Et mes amis et ma gaiet�;
J'ai perdu jusqu'� la fiert�
Qui faisait croire � mon g�nie.

Boo freakin' hoo.

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