That's what my ex-co-worker and friend Andrew Belonsky, editor of Queerty, says about our jobs. And indeed it is! I, for one, have guests over to my palatial apartment all the time. Just last night, Andrew came over, and I offered him his choice of dried craisins, organic macaroni and cheese or Georgi Vodka. Guess which he chose? After a few rounds of blogger party game favorite "guess that google image," we stepped out into my hallway so Andrew could smoke a cigarette. Another indication of how glamorous my life is: we smoke cigarettes. In hallways! Like millionaires! I live in the top floor of a four story walk-up. On the stairwell leading up to the roof there are cigarette butts, the insides of cheap cigars and the odd magnum condom wrapper. Of course, I didn't tell Andrew about the last one — I didn't want to make him too jealous of my glamorous lifestyle.
How do the wrappers get there? Well, there are a bunch of teenagers in my building and I guess they prefer to be overheard by their neighbors than their parents. I think that's a fair stance.
Anyway, Andrew goes to sit down on the staircase, but unbeknownst to him, there's a young couple necking just a few feet above, where the staircase curves. Not wanting to break the mood for these young lovers, I say, "Hey Andrew, why not just stand in the hallway and enjoy this nice fluorescent lighting?"
"No," Andrew says. "I want to sit down." With our glamorous lifestyles, bloggers are used to getting what we want. Andrew starts walking up the stairs, soon realizes he's about to interrupt something, and turns back around. Of course, bloggers also have an inflated sense of self-importance, and ultimately our idle chatter in the hallway did nothing to dissuade the lovers from their purpose.
After that encounter, we go back to listen to music on my new super awesome mp3 player and then decide to go to a bar. On our way out, we pass the couple, just sitting on the stairs in front of my apartment, making post-coital chit-chat.