A DAY IN THE LIFE OF MAYOR MICHAEL BLOOMBERG, A DIARY

April 18th, 2005 6:45 AM

I just woke up on my new mattress. Goose feathers my ass! You've never slept until you've snoozed on a bed stuffed with one hundred dollar bills. What a night's sleep like I've never had. Gosh, it would be just awful to not have one of these. It would be like being homeless. Speaking of which, why can't homless people dress better? Any self-respecting beggar should have a tie on. Hmmm...not a bad idea. I'm going to make that a law today; homeless people have to wear ties.

April 18th 7:30 AM

...or maybe they should be wearing a suit?

April 18th 8:30 AM

I wonder how much money I could get if I sold New York. Wait...am I doing that already?

April 18th 9:22 AM

I was thinking that a great name for my memoir would be "Why Are There Middle Class People Still Living In New York (And How Do I Get Them Out?).

Things to do today:
- Name the Upper East Side "Bloombergville" or perhaps something more subtle like "Bloomberg's"
- Dispell any accusations that the MTA is corrupt.
- Collect my monthly payola from the MTA.
- Buy the Olympics so I can host it here in NY.
- Find out how much the Olympics cost. If it's not for sale, then have someone killed.

April 18th 10:12 AM

I've banned smoking. I've banned dancing. My team of consultants think I'm going too far if I ban drinking. Or maybe I should ban all drinks with the exception of my newly launched malt liquor named "Bloomberg Malt Ale" and target market it to the inner-cities with the instantly catchy campaign slogan "Make it Mike's." Then all the people in the inner-cities will spend their money on my malt ale and run out of cash and then have to move out to Jersey or Staten Island because the rent will rocket sky high even in their cockaroach-infested slums which, after they all move out, I will then develop into condos.
Note to self; buy a marketing team, a production line, a team of designers and a brewery for Bloomberg Malt Ale.

April 18th 11:46 AM

I am so f***ing rich. Seriously.

April 18th 12:45 PM

Okay, so I'm not sure if the gentleman I'm having lunch with is 50 Cent or the Game. I know I was supposed to have lunch with one of the rappers but I can't tell which one this is and why he can't speak English? Is this how he learned to speak in his prep school?

April 18th 1:35

Pataki has awful breath.

April 18th 2:30 PM

I WANT A STADIUM! I WANT A STADIUM! WAAAAAH! GIMME! GIMMMMMEEEE!

April 18th 3:37 PM

My assistant tells me that poor people are not as of yet wearing suits.

April 18th 4:01 PM

Koch was gay. Dinkins was useless. Guliani was mean. What's my niche? Is rich a niche? HA! RIch niche! That rhymes. Cool.

April 18th 4:59

Time to leave the office. I'm thinking of taking an early weekend and head up the Hamptons. My assistant tells me it's Monday and that would look bad if I left now. I tell my assistant, since when did I care about what the people think? And she says, but sir, you're running for re-election? And I said back, that's true but since when did I do anything in this office to make people like me. If there's anything i was hoping you would learn, my assistant--she doesn't mind when I call her "my assistant"--it's not the votes that matter, it's my piles and piles of money that does. I can buy votes like I bought that small gathering of illegal immigrants in my Upper East Side--oops, Bloombergville--apartment that clean all day long. Clean, clean, clean. So, see you next Monday, I tell her.