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prada saks fifth avenue it's all about the "must haves" in the magazines now. The "It List," if you will. You know every girl needs to have a cropped wool jacket with big buttons, at least two leather handbags the size of John McCain's jowls, and metallic nail polish. Everyone needs to read the latest "Five People You Make Chicken Soup In Heaven For" dreck that made Oprah cry, or whatever. And twins, evidently, are the new Jimmy Choo slingbacks in Hollywood.Since I love making lists it's the Virgo in me, I offer up my own variation on That Which Is "It." Except I'm calling it "The Ick List." I don't think it needs much in the way of explanation.Now, I know that I'm going to be listing things that, for some, are in no way "icky." Some of these things, in fact, you may personally be a huge fan of, or at least are not particularly offended by. No arbiter of taste am I; I fully admit this. I can probably name three items on my person and at least twelve things that I've done since waking up this morning that would make your eyes roll back into your head. So with that caveat, I give you THE ICK LIST 2008:French Pedicures: I just find these terrifying somehow. I'm all for gussying up one's feet. I look down at my cherry red toenails and I feel a little pang of happiness. And we won't even get into the TOE RING.Hot Tubs: I've been over this before. It's when the hot tub is featured as part of a purported "romantic" evening that I bristle, and bristle but good. Great. Do I get rose petals all over the floor and a teddy bear clutching a plastic heart filled with Red Hots, too? Because then I'll know you REALLY love me. Break open the Brut and let's fuck!Website Trackers: I've GOT one of these, and most of the time, I wish I didn't. But then I'll check my stats, and be all like: "WHY is someone in Riyadh checking my page EVERY 25 MINUTES?!" Trackers are like crack for the paranoid. And then there are the people who put trackers on their MySpace pages. Maybe it'll get picked up by "Marie Claire."Started in October '99 on a whim, my online diary I despise the term "blog" use it only when I have to has gone from pithy rants and observations to chronicling my recovery from a very nasty drinking