"Packing tape works way better than Scotch tape," I said from the deep Helen-shaped bed divot where I lay in my dollar store sweat pants, cable remote in hand. "There's some in that drawer right there." I even pointed at the drawer. I like to give.
Clearly I am sharing this information in hopes that it will find its way to Martha Stewart, who will then pursue me tirelessly until I accept a six-figure consultatory position with her organization.
As for Nick...that job is as good as his. They're gonna take one look at those pants and make him an offer. I just know it.