The following is a work of fiction.

Not Nick Nolte's Diary, Malibu, California
November 29, 2004


Mary Ellen just stopped by to go over my winter arrangements. She always uses that word, "arrangements," like she's some kind of contract killer. Mary Ellen is my travel agent and she knows a thing or two about getting arrangements for leased jets on a day's notice out of Burbank. That's why, unlike many of my peers, I won't suffer some bird on an 800 number to throw together my travel. To get in the mood I set up Sinatra's "Come Fly with Me" on the hi-fi. I don't think she noticed. She did seem disappointed to notice that I had made room for Constance on the manifest. I hope I didn't step on a budding crush. It would not be the first time, I'm not ashamed to admit, Diary. Oh, I also learned today there is no truly organic grenadine.

[signed] Nick

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