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" It&amp;#039;s crunch time at the restaurant now. With only a month until we&amp;#039;re scheduled to open, Blythe and I have started to kick into Mach 3 speed, interviewing sous-chefs, assistant chefs, waiters, hosts, busboys, etc. We found one chef we really like \u2014 a fat guy named Mark, from Texas \u2014 and a few of the waitstaff seem perfect. (It&amp;#039;s amazing: In L.A., hiring a waiter is like casting a movie. People come with headshots and r\u00E9sum\u00E9s, even demo reels. We had a lot of hotties walk in the door, but Blythe seems biased against any waiter who&amp;#039;s too good-looking. Oh well, probably better that way.  Meanwhile, I&amp;#039;m loving my new living situation. I&amp;#039;m staying in a total bachelor pad, with a screening room, infinity pool, hot tub, billiards, and Ping-Pong. The guy \u2014 Derek \u2014 spent a lot of time in the South Pacific and collected a ton of art, so his home reminds me of a Polynesian resort. Every time I walk into his kitchen, I think some woman in a grass skirt is going to appear and hand me a scorpion bowl.  Apparently, bachelor pad owner Derek is away for the next few months in India, where he&amp;#039;s discovering the meaning of life. I hope it takes a while because I am seriously loving walking around this place in my birthday suit, playing Xbox 360 on his ginormous LCD screen. Technically, I&amp;#039;m only supposed to stay in my half the of the house, which is a two-story wing in the back with a living room, bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, but it&amp;#039;s kind of hard not to hang out in the main house and rub my bare buttocks all over his furniture.  But I&amp;#039;m making it sound like I&amp;#039;m living large right now, when in reality I&amp;#039;m totally stressed-out. The restaurant is consuming every minute of my day, and when I&amp;#039;m not worrying about it, I&amp;#039;m worrying about the missing money.  Sis finally called yesterday to find out how Gabby liked her gift. I lied and told her that I hadn&amp;#039;t heard back since I handed her the envelope.  &amp;quot;I suspect she&amp;#039;s probably a little overwhelmed,&amp;quot; I said.  &amp;quot;Maybe it was too much? I hope she wasn&amp;#039;t insulted.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;No, no. I&amp;#039;m sure she&amp;#039;s happy as a clam.&amp;quot;  Eventually, I&amp;#039;m going to need to tell Sis the truth. That is, once I find it out for myself. Today, I finally opened up to Blythe about it. I didn&amp;#039;t want it to come to this, but I&amp;#039;m getting pretty desperate. I have looked and relooked a thousand times for this money, and it&amp;#039;s now safe to say it&amp;#039;s MIA.  So I told Blythe that I&amp;#039;d lost an envelope filled with cash that my sister gave me for Christmas. She seemed a lot more interested in why my sister would give me $10K (it was more than that, I think, but that&amp;#039;s the number I went with) than the money&amp;#039;s whereabouts.  &amp;quot;I told you, my sister recently came into a lot of money and she wanted to spread the wealth,&amp;quot; I explained.  &amp;quot;Why didn&amp;#039;t she just write you a check?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s something she learned back when she was in a cult. Don&amp;#039;t trust banks. People should always have cash in the house in case of the apocalypse.&amp;quot; (She also still believes you should never leave a car with less than half a tank of gas, just in case we need to make an escape.)  &amp;quot;Well, if I see it, I will definitely let you know,&amp;quot; Blythe said.  We were in the restaurant trying out a few different blends of coffee, so I was pretty wired. &amp;quot;Could someone in your apartment have stolen it?&amp;quot; I asked.  She looked up and cocked her head. &amp;quot; Do you think I took the money?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I didn&amp;#039;t say that.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Well, who else could you mean, then?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t know \u2014 your housekeeper, an exterminator, maybe a FedEx guy.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Nobody has been in the apartment, OK?&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Fine.&amp;quot;  &amp;quot;Nobody except me and Mom. Jeesh, you&amp;#039;re paranoid.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.redbookmag.com/love-sex/mens-perspective/a2512/diary-he-010308/>