Hey Mrs. Potter won't you talk to me?

Another fabulous day in the city.

First off, one of the many wonderful things about my job is the endless access I have to free copies of pretty much every magazine you can think of — and many you wouldn't (Atlanta Peach, a quarterly horse trainers mag, etc., the Capitol Hill lifetsyle mag, etc.) As I was telling the fabulously British Claire, "it's like a crack whore diving into a dumpster full of used needles" for this magazine addict.

Also in talking with Claire, I learned what I should have noticed from reading AdAge for the last month: there really isn't anyone actively covering music advertising at the magazine — "one of the most over-loooked sectors of the industry, I'm afraid," Claire said impeccably. I told her I would be happy to fill that void, and to prove it, I got started on my first pitched story: a quick piece on the Yahoo! Music promotion Jessica Simpson has where you can have your first name inserted into the second verse of "Public Affair" and buy your very own copy. It's more than a little ridiculous (hey anyone named Zera, Tuma and Kimball — Jessica made sure you were included!) which is why it will make for such a fun story.

After knocking out a quick story on Godiva, I bussed it over to Chelsea, which I immediately fell in love with. Where else can you see a billboard for gay.com that's just as large as the anti-abortion ones that used to decorate my drive to and from Columbus?

I also ate quite possibly the best burger I've ever had at the inventively named New York Burger Company. Everything about it was perfection. The bun was flaky and flavorful. The burger was cooked just right and well seasoned. The tomatoes were extremely fresh and of the cherry persuasion. And the selection of condiments was ridiculous — more than 10. I opted for the Chipotle honey myself. A wise choice.

I was then off to an advance screening of Miss Potter, starring one Renee Zellweger as Peter Rabbit author Beatrix Potter and one Ewan McGregor as her publisher/paramour.

I saw this dude handing out passes for it yesterday in SoHo and knew I HAD to check it out, if only so I could have my first (FREE, even) moviegoing experience with New Yorkers. It was a comforting lesson in culture: no matter how comparatively less cool I may feel by not being a native New Yorker, any airs of aloofness or jaded suaveness disappear at an advance screening of an Oscar bait movie.

Each and every person around me — from the chatty gay Jews to the mop-topped Napoleon Dynamite NYU student to the 50-something sisters who were in line behind me — became just as dorky and annoying as the clueless Ohioans who used to attend all the press screenings in Loews Richmond with me last summer.

For the first time since my arrival here, I felt a sense of authority and purpose. New Yorkers may have a lot on me in terms of style, cultural options and definitely money, but my film buff skills are still up to snuff.

After the movie (which was very good — will end up being marketed pretty much exactly like Finding Neverland, which it so obviously wants to be) I even got to participate in a discussion about the film with a marketer from the studio and 19 other New Yorkers. Everyone seemed to be in concordance with my observation that Emily Watson's character, while very humorous, was most likely a lesbian and wanted Renee Z real bad.

It was a fantastic ending to a thoroughly enjoyable day in the city. But as my much-anticipated fall preview issue of New York informed me today, I have many many more where those came from in store these next three months...