Rachel Uchitel: Love addict or professional floozy?
So after Pete and I confirmed that the woman living on the top floor of Pete’s apartment building was, in fact, a real-life mistress (see Lies, Deceit and other thing I love), she had been mysteriously absent from the building. Her car is never there and no one ever sees her walking out and about. It’s strange, since I know she has at least one dog that probably has to go to the bathroom every once and awhile. Maybe she has one of those crazy house trained dogs.
ANYWAYS, the mistress, or as I’ve come to call her, the Wicker Park Floozy, was SPOTTED by my very own boyfriend earlier this week.
Pete was walking home from somewhere and talking on the phone with me at the same time. I was talking his ear off about something critical like my clown phobia or X-Files Season 3 when he suddenly got very quiet.
“Eva,” he whispered. “I just saw them.”
“Saw who? Why are you whispering?”
“The mistress and her man. I was walking into the building and they came up behind me. The guy said, ‘Perfect timing, huh?’ and then they both laughed.”
“Did you slam the door in their faces and run away?”
“No I let them in.”
“Oh ok. That was nice of you.”
So the Wicker Park Floozy is still alive and well. And still floozing, apparently. That’s pretty much all I wanted to say.
I was completely struck with fear when I saw them. Figuring they had stumbled upon the blog and spent Xmas vacation planning my murder for exposing them publicly. Thankfully I’m able to live another day to tell my lovely gf about the extra marital chicanery in these here parts.