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So what they did on Mad Men last night would be illegal today, right? Dammit, you could do ANYTHING in the ’60s.

Mo and I have recieved our next mission: Party Crash at the National Book Awards. Seeing as how our first two caused a decent amount of trouble, I have no doubt that this one will (A) get the least amount of traffic and (B) be the most fun. Mo in a party dress, me in a suit (maybe even: a fucking tux), getting plastered at Cipriani and assaulting Dave Eggers, Junot Diaz, Andy Borowitz, Colum McCann, and crazy ass senile old Gore Vidal (in that order). FYI, a National Book Award nomnation looks like this. My mission is to get a picture of Mo wearing one with this and one of these along for the ride. Intended effect something like this.

I am excited.

Unbelievable. Just back from the bank. I didn’t freaking pass my own signature test.

So, I don’t know about you, but I happen to sign things a bit differently in different situations. Like, for example, if you have to sign for a Fed Ex delivery, I’m not going to make sure my signature is pretty, but more like a rushed scribble. I tend to do this on most receipts too. Maybe on an official document, I’ll take more care. But they’re all the same general shape with the same nuances. So apparently, when the postman came to my door with my “proof I live here” card, I did my signature shorthand. Oh no this does not fly here.

To digress for a moment, I’d just like to say that I’m incredibly tolerant of the famously nonsensical ways of French bureaucracy. I don’t get angry, and when processes are ridiculous, I accept that that’s way things are. No complaining. When I tried to get my tax stamps reimbursed from the error on my carte de séjour, I didn’t spend the day crying and moaning because the tabac where I bought them told me I had to go to a the trésor publique in the 2nd arrondissement, where they told me to go to the building in the 15th, where they told me to go back to the préfecture in the 11th. (Side note: if you need some 55 Euro ones, I’ll sell them to you for less.) I don’t talk loudly because the French think Americans talk to loud. I make sure to always say bonjour when entering a store, merci, au revoir, bon soirée, bon soir, bon journée.

So. Mr. Bank asks me to sign above on the card. His female colleague watches on. I sign exactly like it is. Oh no no no. That is not the same as how you signed on your account documents. I compare the two. The only difference is that the L of Leonora is bigger and E of Epstein is slightly larger. Then he has me try to replicate that one. It’s not good enough. Finally, I lost my cool (well, as much as Little Leo does). “Seriously?! I really don’t know what to tell you. All of these are me. What, do you want the postman to come and take a picture of me signing? Or what - maybe I have a personality disorder where I have different signatures? I’m sorry, but you just saw me do this 5 times.”

Mr. Bank is surprised that I raised my voice-his eyebrows raise.

Female colleague in expected French bitchyness: “You know, this isn’t the United States where anything goes. In France we do things differently, and you have to do—”

I ugh audibly.

Mr. Bank: “Okay, okay. Look,” he says in a way that is trying to get me to cool down. “I am just going to take care of this. I’ll figure it out and call you later. Your card will be ready Tuesday.”

Haha! Damn straight, la banque.

I know the Awl and Gawker (where I’ll be live-chatting tonight’s results) have joined the haters who want to throw out the best mayor this city has had in my lifetime (which is longer than some). Here are the top ten reasons you shouldn’t join them.

10. Term limits are for suckers. Seriously. Fuck ‘em. Gold stars to all the Council members who voted to override. Who are a bunch of Ron Lauder-manipulated voters from the anti-incumbent craze of the early ’90s to tell me who I can and can’t vote for? Oh, you say, the sacred will of the voters can’t be touched. Well, go to California, where decades of voter-passed propositions that can’t be changed have smothered the governing process in quicksand. And don’t you support overturning the California voters’ ban on gay marriage? Ah, as I thought. And if that still doesn’t convince you, think of it this way: if the term limits law included a provision allowing the City Council to override it, then the override was totally legitimate.

9. He doesn’t care what people think of him or the niceties of the political process, which often comes in handy. He just cares about outcomes. He’s outside the city’s established, still-clubby political structure.

8. The 311 system and NYC.gov. What a concept: customer service for everyone who lives in NYC.

7. He’s kept crime going down without the Mussolini-like police tactics of Giuliani. There have been no mayorally-sanctioned police hate crimes like Diallo, Louima and Dorismond.

6. He supports the arts, instead of attacking them as Giuliani did.

5. Fuck Critical Mass. A bunch of spoiled, self-righteous kids who think they’re striking a blow against… something, by indulging their free-floating aggression toward everyone and tying up neighborhoods. If they can’t stop at red lights, take their bikes and slap them with citations.

4. Unlike Giuliani, who tried to shut down and sell off the city’s community gardens, Bloomberg has been a champion of open space, reclaiming traffic lanes for de facto parks around Times Square, Herald Square, Madison Square Park, the Lower East Side and elsewhere. He’s closed down Park Ave. during the summer and was key to rescuing the High Line. His planning commissioner, Amanda Burden, has waged war on overdesigned developments that would have disfigured neighborhoods, and works constantly to increase New Yorkers’ access to waterways.

3. The Nanny State. I don’t care what people say, using government to direct people away from habits that are bad for them is 100% awesome. I don’t believe those studies that say posting calorie counts doesn’t work — I’ve myself been surprised to find out how many calories certain foods contain, and grateful for the info that helped me avoid them. And the trans-fat ban is great for fighting obesity. Fuck “free choice” — you think you had free choice at age 13 when Joe Camel convinced you and your friends that it would be cool to adopt a deadly, addictive habit?

2. So: the smoking ban. If nothing else, this alone would make Mike Bloomberg a national hero. Don’t you like not having to strip off your clothes, enclose them in a hazmat bag and drop them straight off at the cleaners after a night at a bar? Notice how it’s spread to other cities and states, and even longtime smokers’ bastions like Ireland and Italy? That, plus high taxes on cigarettes that come closer to paying the true cost smoking and smokers impose on society has nearly driven smoking onto New York’s endangered species list, where it belongs, and strongly discouraged underage smoking when people have the least ability to resist adopting self-destructive habits.

1. He kept us from going under after 9/11, as many expected. Not caring about politics, he forced an austerity budget on the city and an 18% property tax hike — which he ended as soon as the budget was in the clear.