I've become a parody of myself

My weekend turned out to be pretty well-rounded, especially if you considered I managed to fit in a handful things I like, as indicated by this website, which someone CLEARLY wrote about me.

So, here—I give you my entire weekend, chronologically, itemized by topic according to stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com:

#35-The Daily Show/Colbert Report—I reached the pinnacle of my PR career as I booked one of my clients for Colbert in April. While Oprah or the Today Show might be the benchmark of success for some in my industry, Colbert is my benchmark of success.

#48-Whole Foods and Grocery Co-Ops—On my way home after work, I stopped at Whole foods to pick up dinner, which included…

#6-Organic food—A loaf of organic fresh-baked italian bread, triple cream brie and apricot jam. (Although, I didn;t have much of a choice--you can't NOT buy organic bread at Whole Foods). When I got home, I opened a bottle of…

#24-Wine—Merlot. It's all I had left red-wise, and not my first choice, but it's been sitting there since mid-December. I sliced off some bread and poured a glass and joined my roommate in watching…

#85-The Wire—Actually, this is a total lie. We watched 2 episodes of In Treatment. But if you read the description from “The Wire” post, it applies to all shows that are "critically acclaimed, low-rated, shown on premium cable, and available as a DVD box set. The latter is important so that white people can order it from Netflix and tell their friends "they are really into and I watched ten episodes in a row in the weekend. I'm almost caught up."

On that same note, "If you attempt to talk about an episode they have not seen yet, they will scream and cover their ears. In white culture, giving away information about a film or TV series is considered as rude as spitting on your mothers grave. It is an unforgivable offense." This is true in that I won't sit in the same room with my roommate if she is farther along and watching episodes ahead of me.

Also, The Wire season 2 is currently the #3 item in my Netflix queue.

After In Treatment, my roommate headed out to Brooklyn and I decided to stay home and watch…

#10-Wes Anderson Movies—Some of you may know that I saw Bottle Rocket in 1994. But I had just purchased the latest from my fave director: The Darjeeling Limited. Picked up the DVD at the Borders above Whole Foods on my way home from work. I ended up getting really frustrated, though, when my DVD player decided to go nuts on me, forcing me to play it on one of my…

#40-Apple products—I popped it in my MacBook and set it on the coffee table. Thought the movie was even better the second time around (I, of course, saw it in theaters as soon as it came out). Went to bed at a decent hour because I was meeting Mike and Sarah the next day for the South Street Seaport…

#89-St. Patricks Day—Bar Stroll. THIS was actually not my scene at all. But the weather was gorgeous, the people-watching was second-to-none, and the beer was cheap. For the week leading up to this event, Sarah and I knew that the big special that day was going to be $3 Miller Chills. Neither of us had ever tasted a "Miller Chill," but that didn't stop us from making fun of (a) how it tastes and (2) the people who drink it. So the first drink we both ordered was, of course, a Miller Chill, if only for the...

#50—Irony—of it. This is what Miller Chill tastes like: Imagine a cup half full of Miller Lite. Then imagine someone time-traveling back to 1991 and buying a pack of "Squeeze It" artificially flavor lime beverages, coming back to the future and adding it into the Miller Cup, shaking it around and forcing you to drink it. I'm guessing you're imagining a non-forced gag reflex.

The rest of the day I drank regular Miller Lite and, when went to dinner at one of the restaurants nearby, I ordered a passion fruit margarita (they were out of mango margaritas) with my fish tacos.

I got home in time to take a power nap before turning on Saturday Night Live, which was CARRIED this week by Kristin Wiig. it seemed she was in every sketch. Not that I mind. In fact, when I saw them setting up for Target Lady, a little bit of pee came out. The women of SNL have become the force behind the show, a thesis which is supported by this month's issue of Vanity Fair featuring cover models Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and…

#52—Sarah Silverman—The headline says: "Who Says Women Aren't Funny?" I immediately bought a copy. It's like smart girl porn.

Where was I? Ah, yes: Sunday morning. This brings me to:

#9—Making you feel bad about not going outside—I pull this one on myself regularly. My favorite way to make myself get functional on the weekends is to make myself feel bad about not going outside. This Sunday, it was raining. I really didn't have anything I had to get done. But Leslie: "What the fuck are you doing with your life?" So I picked up a copy of the...

#46—Sunday New York Times—and walked in the rain to the…

#5- Farmers Market—not the big Sunday Greenmarket up on Columbus (it WAS raining) but the ramble shamble indoor farmers market on 52nd Street that my roommate has been raving about for the past month. Apparently, she claims, “it's sooooo cheap.” I only had like, $9 cash on me, so I was conservative with what I put in my basket. Come to find out, when the lady rang me up, that I bought my whole weeks worth of produce for just under $6. It IS soooooooo cheap! Loaded my goods into my reusable cloth bag because I reduce, reuse and

#64--Recycle--and went back to my…

#26--Manhattan—apartment. I cooked toasts (organic) topped with a mix of garlic, roasted red peppers, broccoli and Portobello mushrooms, broiled with a thin layer of gouda cheese on top. I thought about making a smoothie, but I have yet to figure out which blender model will give me the most bang for my buck. I've been soliciting suggestions recently, as I've had problems in the past with getting a non-lumpy end product. Also on my…

#54—Kitchen Gadgets—list: A large saute pan and a panini press. I mean, I'm a fan of

#63—Expensive sandwiches—but seriously, I could save a lot of money by just making my own pseudo-expensive sandwiches with a panini press. Money that I could use towards things like

#87—Outdoor Performance Clothes…
#76—Bottles of Water…

…and, one day, keeping a…

#56—Lawyer...

…on retainer for when I inevitably get…

#66—Divorce(d).

But, I know. I know. I'm getting ahead of myself.

In order for that to happen, I first need to find someone who will marry me. After the wedding, we’ll probably buy a hybrid car, get a dog, and in a few years, adopt a child from a foreign country. Of course we'll send him to a French preschool, deprive him of television, and encourage his NPR-listening habits from a young age. He’ll eventually grow to hate his parents and squander his 20’s away on various masters degree programs in useless liberal arts programs before finally deciding to just go to law school.

Anyway, that’s a few years down the road, so I’m not even going to worry about it now. What I’m worried about now is this $10 burning a hole in my pocket for a smoked turkey and Gruyere with rosemary aioli on sun-dried tomato foccacia from that deli on the corner. Lunchtime!

I seriously don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore.

Casino Royale: Better than Norbit!

I was so grossly offended by Rachel’s review of Casino Royale that I felt the need to post a rebuttal (in addition to my extensively long comment on her blog).

Her opinion is so disgustingly incorrect, that I at first seriously questioned if we were even talking about the same movie.

Listen. I own the DVD. I’ve seen it somewhere in the double-digits amount of times. It’s actually one of my go-to DVDs that I pop in if I can’t decide what I’m in the mood for—cause I am ALWAYS in the mood for Daniel Craig, high-stakes poker games, eastern European scenery and EXPLOSIONS!!

One day, I was watching it and my roommate (who had never seen the movie) came home in the middle of it-- during the airport chase scene. By the time that terrorist guy blew up, she was fully invested and deep into "yelling-at-the-TV" mode.

Meanwhile “Rachel” (if that’s even REALLY her name. I don’t know WHAT to believe anymore) claims she fell asleep during that scene.

Other preposterous claims she makes about the movie:

She implies there is no Aston Martin in the movie. WRONG. In fact, it’s the silliest Aston Martin to date. Details: http://www.seriouswheels.com/cars/top-2006-Aston-Martin-DBS-James-Bond-Casino-Royale.htm

She implies that James drove a Ford something or other. First of all, for about 2 seconds when he arrives in the Bahamas. It’s a rental. Obviously she missed the deleted scene where Avis fucked up his reservation. I mean, let’s be real. Last time I rented a car, I was told it was going to be a Ford Focus. And then I end up getting a Kia Specta. What the FUCK?!?!

Furthermore, he uses the Ford to run into another car. Why waste an Aston Martin on a strategic fender bender?

Other reasons she is wrong:
--Dame Judi Dench is in it. Her bas ass-ness is not even up for argument.

--The car chase scene broke the world record for most stunt flips EVER. How can you claim this movie doesn’t deliver in the action department when it’s actually a PROVABLE point that you’ve never seen anything like that before in your life?

--Mini-trunks:



I WISH I could pull off bootie shorts like that.

--The running chase scene at the beginning is not special FX. They really jumped off cranes! The villain is the guy who invented extreme running! He invented a sport!

--It’s 94% fresh on Rotten Tomatoes. Other movies that AREN’T 94% fresh:

• Michael Clayton (91%)
• Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (92%) I know that stings, you Hobbit-enthusiast!
• Atonement (82%)
• Norbit (9%)
• The Departed (92%)—You know what? That’s actually just plain wrong. I love Casino Royale, but it is in NO way sillier than The Departed. See? I know when to admit inferiority, even if it does make for a hole in my argument. But being slightly less good than The Departed is not shabby by any means. I am, however, going to blacklist any reviewer that gave The Departed a rotten review.

Listen, I know a good movie when I see one. And I actually I find it really frustrating that someone would argue against this near-perfect addition to one of the most celebrated franchises in movie history. Maybe it’s one of those things that you’re only finding fault in because everyone hyped it up so much. But if you’d have seen other Bond movies (especially anything during the Pierce Brosnan period of the franchise), this is inarguably one of the best.

OR--maybe if everyone had panned it, you’d have thought “Hey, that wasn’t so bad.” But, of course, that scenario is impossible because no one would ever universally pan a movie as BAZILLY as Casino Royale!

Anyway, Rachel (and any other reader that also hates on Casino Royale), I can agree to disagree on this as long as we just bury the discussion now. What I cannot agree to disagree on is anyone who disputes the awesomeness of this:





Best video movie ever? Best video movie ever.

Midnight train to that bar that serves nachos across the street

I traveled to Atlanta for a wedding over the weekend, with high hopes that once Sunday came around, I’d be able to check another item off the ol’ bucket list: Dining at a Chicken and Waffles restaurant.

To be perfectly honest, I was unaware of the “chicken and waffles phenomena” until just a couple of years ago. But I immediately connected with the idea. Chicken? Goooooood. Waffles? Goooooooood. The combination, in my mind, would be nothing short of spectacular.

So you can imagine my delight after 2 long years of knowing about, but never actually dining on a combination of chicken and waffles, when my friend Katie alerted me that Gladys Knight has a C&W establishment in Atlanta, not 5 miles from where we were staying.

Would this be the weekend? Would I finally get authentic chicken and waffles? Would the restaurant be playing Gladys Knight music EXCLUSIVELY? I had visions of rotisseries and griddles operating in perfect time to “Midnight Train to Georgia.”

We had big plans to journey to Gladys’s bistro after the wedding that the 6 of us were in town for (it’s open until 3am).

At the reception, I was still full from the cheeseburger and PBR-in-a-brown-bag I had for lunch at this cute little restaurant across the street from where we were staying. In addition, I was also determined not to ruin my chicken and waffles appetite. So for dinner, I limited myself to just a scoop of mashed potatoes, a swiss cake roll and 7 glasses of wine.

I know what you’re thinking: Mashed potatoes would taste delicious with chicken and waffles! I know, me too. We’re on the same wavelength.

I’ll tell you what kind of people I am NOT on the same wavelength with: people who question the presence of Swiss Cake Rolls at a wedding. It took me a lot of restraint not to dig into this before social conventions deemed it appropriate:


So, congratulations to the new husband and wife, Cheryl and Corey. I’d like to take this opportunity to let you know that I stuck an oatmeal cream pie from the groom's cake table in my vintage clutch purse for the ride back.

By the time we made it back to the apartment to change out of our wedding attire (well, some of us), the wine had defeated my morale (the part of my morale based in the chicken and waffles part of my brain) and the struggle ended with a deal to go somewhere that provided more immediacy, alcohol-wise,…and somewhere that served…NACHOS!

So, chicken and waffles will have to wait. But, from my diet of alcohol, Little Debbies and nachos over the weekend, I am in deep into detox mode this week, which I'm pretty sure does not allow for any sort of soul food whatsoever.

When does season four start?

Although I am personally shamed by my love for the MTV program "The Hills," to the point of self loathing during the 15 minutes after every episode I sit through, at least I'm big enough to admit my problem.

The show is a shallow, offensive portrayal of the lives and values of my generation and the vile, semi-retarded cast members represent everything that is wrong with 20-something women.

It should only be expected then, that I jumped at the opportunity to take the "Which 'The Hills' Character Are You?" quiz via Facebook application.

The quiz didn't allow for write-in responses, so I was forced to choose the least worst option.

Below, please find my submitted responses in blue and my if-I-had-the-option-to-write-this-in-response in red.

1. What kind of guys are you attracted to?
Bad boys, with the rugged sexy look.
Bad boys, that look anything but sexy.
Average joes.
Good guys with engaging personalities.
Wannabe player types, who are really in-the-closet relationship types.
---->Intellectual/arty guys who make me laugh

2. If you want something in life, what's your way of getting it?
Go after it irrelevant of the consequences.
Play fair and square.
Hard work and determination.
Smile and look pretty.
I'm already rich but I give it my best anyways.
--->Decide and fuckin' do it. If it doesn't work out, oh well [shrugs shoulders].

3. What's your dream job?
Owner of a fashion magazine.
Supermodel.
Fashion designer.
Chief Editor of a fashion magazine.
Head of a major party planning firm.
---->Indie film exec. HBO Publicist. Saturday Night Live booker, writer, floor-sweeper.

4. In an ideal world, what would be your ideal boyfriend?
Blond hair, blue-eyed, and rich minus the idiotic gaming addictions.
Brad Pitt's body + Ben Stiller's humor - Spencer's Idiocy.
Brody with some acting skills.
Collin Farrell's looks and behavior - Justin Bobby's lack of faithfulness
Collin Farrell's looks and behavior + Brody's smile - anything remotely resembling Spencer.
---->Jason Schwartzman's personality + George Clooney's looks + He's doing 20 to life for killing Spencer.

5. What is the best aspect of your personality that your friends find appealing?
I don't sugar coat anything.
Love like you've never been hurt.
My superior social skills.
Less talk about own drama and more listening to other people's drama.
I know what I want, screw the world.
---->I could round out their World Series of Pop Culture team should the opportunity present itself.

6. Do you believe in love at first sight?
Of course, especially when he's blond with blue eyes driving a Six series. Totally in love.
It's a possibility with some people.
Depends on his bank account balance.
Sometimes, but they usually have to come back around a couple of times.
Do I look like a cross-eyed idiot?
---->No, but I think that homeless guy on the subway who asked me out to go see a "love movie" last week does.

7. What's your ideal wedding?
Cute ceremony at a Church, but with high publicity.
Vegas baby, in-n-out. Vegas Baby. No write-in required.
Weddings are so 90s. Domestic partnerships are so HOT right now.
Small ceremony on a beach, family and friends only.
The largest ceremony in America, at the White House, with Bush as the ring bearer.

8. When there's drama going on who do you turn to?
Fake friends or co-workers I can dispose of at my whim.
My best friends from back home who are drama free.
My mommy.
I try to work it out with the parties involved.
My roommate or close friends at work whom I can trust.
---->My iPod.

I know you're all waiting to find out if I'm a Heidi or a Lauren. Although, I'm personally keeping my fingers crossed that I'm a Justin Bobby!


Ok....hitting "SUBMIT"....


"Sorry we were unable to calculate your result!"


WHAT THE FUCK??!

Is Whitney powering algorithm that spits out these results?
Does this mean I'll NEVER be a Hills girl?

Assuming the answer is "No, Leslie, you'll never be a Hills girl," why am I experiencing a simultaneous feeling of both relief and disappointment?

Brody, I need a hug.


PS--Here's what I'm listening to now:

What Made Milwaukee Famous--"Resistance Street"

Not the same post that has been up for 3 months.

Over the past several months, have the three of you that actually read this been feeling a little more empty inside than usual? I bet you can attribute it to the non-updates you’ve been getting on my life via the weblog medium.

Today, consider your void filled. I’ve decided to come back from my 4-month-long hiatus. For 2 reasons in particular:

1. I’ve gotten out of the habit of writing, apart from my day job, and I miss it. Not that I consider this blog any sort of literary contribution. It just helps keep me on track and in the habit.

2. If I don’t witness, experience, or do something really interesting or bizarre enough to make for a good story, let’s say about once a week, then what sort of existence am I living in the first place?

So without further explanation, we rejoin my life, already in progress.

Tuesday I opened my daily New York Times “UrbanEye” newsletter—a convenient highlight of the goings-on in the city, delivered gmailly (yeah, I make up adverbs) to me each morning.

On a typical day I just skim through this daily briefing while I wait for my Dunkin Donuts coffee to kick in enough for me to deal with hard news—like Gawker and WhatWouldTylerDurdenDo.com?

But Tuesday morning. Tuesday morning’s Times UrbanEye included a standout entry: An event listing which included the perfect storm of elements to convince me to leave my planned MSNBC Democratic debate-watching plans for the evening behind. An event listing that convinced me that my On Demand obsession with HBO’s In Treatment could be suppressed until Wednesday.

An event listing that dropped words and phrases like:

• “East Village”
• “$5”
• “Eugene Mirman” (of Flight of the Conchords and my crazy Halloween night in Brooklyn fame)
• “Special guests from the likes of SNL, Adult Swim, Conan, etc.”
• “A surprise not-to-be missed indie band”

Of course I immediately notified my Farmhouse friends, Mike and Sarah, and we made plans to head down that night.

Long story short: Best $5 I have ever spent.

The event was the second-to-last night of “Invite them Up,” an improv/sketch/stand up show that apparently been running under my radar until now and weekly for over 6 years.

Performers hadn’t been announced ahead of time, but when we got to the show (which ended up selling out—I’m guessing capacity was somewhere AROUND 50 people) the program for the night included

• Eugene Mirman (who, every time I’ve seen him perform leaves me pained with laughter)
• Zach Galifinakis (genius)
• (You’ll only know what I’m talking about if you live in New York): the “Little Bit of Luck” guy from those New York Lottery ads that have infected our subway system. He performed in a ridiculous sketch where he plays a shirtless, coked-out version of his commercial character.
• Todd Barry (“Doggie Bounce Todd” from Flight of the Conchords,” whom I have ‘accidentally’ run into 3 times since Halloween, now. Stop following me, Todd! But really, he just keeps showing up as a special surprise performer whenever I go to a show. Not that I mind—he’s my brand of funny.)
• A bunch of other comedians
• and, as the program listed them: “Yo La Mystery Band.” Hmmm…I wonder who that could be.

Yeah—that’s right—SILLY!!—we got to see a short impromptu set of covers and rare songs from Yo La Tengo, with fill-in drum player Todd Barry.

By the end of the night, Sarah had gotten an elbow to the chin by Little Bit of Luck guy, Eugene had blocked me into the bathroom, Todd gave me an awkward “Hey, how’s it going?” (maybe he thinks I am his new stalker), and we had all seen Zach in a women’s bathing suit and beehive hairdo.

Success. Full success.

On a totally unrelated note, I’ve exclusively been listening to Leona Naess (thanks to Charlotte) and Regina Spektor for the past 2 days. Share in my aural joy:

Regina Spektor--"Us"
Leona Naess--"Charm Attack"

I managed to fit both a Phil Collins and a Rod Stewart reference into this post. Patrick Bateman, eat your heart out.

PROLOGUE
“How many times have we taken the subway downtown for absolutely nothing?” I asked.

“We’re going on at least three,” Sarah said as we got back on the Q train. This was only an hour after we had originally deboarded at Union Square on Saturday night.

The time in between was spent standing in line in the (literal) freezing cold for Michael Ian Black’s show at Fillmore East, only to be informed the show sold out when we got to the ticket window.

I was heading back to West Midtown to drink a bottle of wine, eat a block of aged gouda cheese, and watch “This Is England.” Not a terrible Saturday night by any means, but since downtown had rejected us for the third time, I still felt like the subway owed us one. Sarah and Mike agreed.

And that night the subway did pay us back. Handsomely.


CHAPTER I: MAY 2007, In Which 12 Friends Take the Subway to 14th Street at 2 a.m.
I refer you to this blog entry, in which about a dozen of us walked around the West 14th Street area for a good hour looking for a strip club. Unsuccessful in our quest, we took a cab back to our hotel.

CHAPTER II: FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2007, In Which 4 Friends Take the Subway to Despotic State “Aura”
A few hours into drinking at a bar in Midtown Friday night, Sarah’s co-workers decided to change venues; they were taking a cab, while Sarah, Mike, Joe and I decided to stay behind to finish our drinks, eventually taking the subway downtown to meet them in progress at the pre-determined location. This location was someplace at 5th Avenue and East 19th Street. When we got to the general vicinity, Sarah called:

“Where are we going—an apartment?”
“No—Aura?”
“Is that a bar?”
“No. It’s a LOUNGE.”

We found Aura just a bit later and queued behind the “velvet rope.” Velvet ropes, as a general rule, send Mike over the edge. He started throwing out claims that this was no “lounge” we were lining up for, and that it was it was, in his opinion, a “club.” He then proceeded to make fun of clubs/clubgoers/this specific club within earshot of the doorman. The doorman who was supposedly going to let us in.

I bet you think that this is the part where the rejection comes. Wrong. This is what people in the writing biz like to call “a twist.” We did get over the threshold of Aura’s outer layer moments later (although much to the doorman’s chagrin). Sarah dropped the name of the party we were there for. Anyone could tell it pained him to let us pass.

Three minutes later, we were back outside.

Why? Not only are you REQUIRED to check your coat at this particular establishment, but you have to pay $4 to do so. I was so flabbergasted by this situation, I could not even verbalize the bevy of questions that this coat-check policy brought up. For example:

• Can’t you see that this over-garment hits above my hip, therefore classifying it as a jacket rather than a coat?
• Is this a coat check or a jacket check?
• Define “coat.”
• Can’t you see that this “jacket” is CLEARLY part of my outfit?
• What if I wear sleeves all the time because I have hideous burns on my arms? Maybe I have arm acne. Open sores. Wrist scars. Vulgar tattoos. Excess flab. Things that, if you’re so concerned about “image,” maybe the coat would be preferable to.
• If the old saying goes “Jacket Required,” are you telling me this establishment is “No Jacket Required?” If so, this gives entirely new meaning to Phil Collins’s solo career.

So we walked back from Aura, and went to an establishment whose policy is “If you’re cold you can wear your jacket, if you’re not, you have the option of taking it off. Unless you think your jacket adds a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to the whole ensemble, then you can choose to keep it on. Basically when it comes to layering, do whatever the fuck you want.” House of Brews at 46th and 9th has said policy. They also had cheese fries and Yeungling bongs, which were more our style anyhow.

(I mean seriously, is there anyone out there that thought Phil DIDN'T mean "A jacket is optional--but not necessary--to listen to this album? What jackass is jamming to 'Sussudio' sleeveless in Minnesota because they thought Phil was making a call for no overcoats?)


CHAPTER III: SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2007, In Which the New York City Subway Ultimately Redeems Itself.
Just as Mike, Sarah and I all nodded in agreement that the subway—particularly the N, R, Q, W line—owed us bigtime, a lanky old toothless hunchback, who also happened to be blind, stepped on board and started belting out “The Christmas Song.”

“Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jackfrost nipping at your nose…”

Performances of this nature are rather commonplace on the subway, but I’ll admit that this was a particularly hard one to simply ignore since:

1.) This guy had an alarmingly loud voice;
2.) You couldn’t help but feel really sorry for this guy’s teeth/sight/homelessness situation; and
3.) If, like me, you had to control urges to laugh at his crooning, the guilt pangs were tangible.

He finished up the song, finally…

“Although it’s been said, many times, many ways, ‘Merry Christmas’ to yooooooooooooouuuu, and you and you and [high note] yoooouuuuuu!”

[SEAMLESS TRANSITION] (And I really cannot effectively express just how seamless it was)

“If you want my body and you think I’m sexy, come on baby let me know!...”

If your mom didn’t listen to Rod Stewart when you were a kid as much as my mom did and/or your name isn’t Jessica Farmer, you might not know that the lyrics above are from the Rod Stewart song “Do You Think I’m Sexy?” which the old blind toothless hunchback continued to sing for the next two subway stops.

I hid my face in my collar to (ineffectively) disguise my gasping laughter and when I resurfaced for air about 90 seconds later, I had tears running down my cheek as I turned to Sarah and said, “That was payback.”

Q Train, your balance is back to zero.

A part of me wishes we dressed as the Bluths for Halloween.

I have arrived at the conclusion that nothing would be more frightening to a non-westernized human than walking through Times Square on Halloween. I’d say I am westernized to the max and it was still a bit scary.

In celebration of Halloween this year, Mike and Sarah dressed as contestants from the early-90's Nickelodeon show GUTS. I dressed at the GUTS referee, “Mo.” There should have been a third contestant to round out the troupe, so we created the
backstory that he/she had been disqualified for illegal doping.

Since I was portraying the ref, Mo, I wanted to make sure to have at least a few of the event names at the top of my mind grapes in order to keep the character believable. So I visited the GUTS page on Wikipedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/GUTS). And printed out all 15 pages of information.

What I found was startling.

I found that someone--whoever authored this page- has not only conscientiously sat down to watch--no...FOCUS on-- every episode multiple times, but also took notes and calculated stats at a level of detail I thought only Dustin Hoffman’s character in Rain Man could achieve. And then he analyzed those notes and stats. And fact checked them.

The first two sentences of the entry alone is full of more information than I could EVER know about GUTS:

“GUTS is a 30-minute "action-sports" game show that aired for four seasons on Nickelodeon from 1992 to 1995. Mike O'Malley presided as host; Moira Quirk (often called Mo) was the referee. The show was taped in Universal Studios Florida on Soundstage 21 which was not part of the Nickelodeon Studios Complex, but was rented by them.”

Here are a few other gems:

----“In 1992, Backstreet Boy A.J. McLean appeared on GUTS, competing against Amanda "The Accelerator" Bulger and Jamie "The Jackal" Mendelsohn, and finishing with the silver medal. He was in blue and referred to on the show as "AJ 'Mean' McLean". He had one event win during his appearance, that being a win in the Slam Dunk event.”

----“The fifth and final event, the Aggro Crag (later renamed to the Mega Crag, and finally the Super Aggro Crag) ultimately decided the winner. All three contestants raced to climb a fabricated mountain, activating a series of lighted targets commonly referred to as "actuators" (six and later seven in the first season; eight from the second season on) on their way to the peak.”

---“It should be noted that the Aggro Crag was not actually made of rock, but out of foam and particle board. Thus, being awarded an actual piece of the rock was intrinsically impossible -- the winning contestant received a trophy like the one seen on-camera.”



I know what you’re thinking: “Did Mike, Leslie and Sarah have a piece of the crag?”

Does this answer your question?



Now, I know what I’m about to say may come as a shock to some of you, but GUTS is not exactly a mainstream costume. It’s certainly no Spiderman. There is a small window of "generation" that experienced GUTS and I'd mark that window around people who are currently ages 20-27.

It was evident that a lot of people did not know what was going on with the elbow pads and Crag. But when someone recognized our theme, they got SOFA KING CISED. We got everything from "OMG! GUTS! I LOVE YOUR COSTUME!" to "FUCK!!! GUT'S WAS MY SHIT, YO!"

And then finally, I got a "Meow!" Has nothing to do with GUTS but it came from a guy who was about 80 years old and was not wearing any costume whatsoever besides the whiskers he scribbled on his face.

And before I get to the truly awesome portion of the evening, the chewy center, if you will, I'll run one more "bad pickup attempt" by you:

Guy in costume walking down Bleeker Street: "Hey, you're cute."

Leslie, to Sarah: "Oh really sir? You are wearing a giant inflatable penis costume."

Then we watched him try to get his giant inflatable dick-self into a cab. Which was AH-MAZING. He had to deflate his head (And I ABSOLUTELY did not intend a pun there) to clear the cab door opening and squeeze into the back seat...WITH TWO OTHER GUYS ALREADY IN THE CAB ALSO DRESSED AS GIANT INFLATABLE PENISES.

God I love Halloween.

Alright, now to the meat of our evening. Sarah had got us on the list for a Halloween party sponsored by The Onion, featuring comedians who voice the Cartoon Network show "Lucy: The Daughter of the Devil" at Union Hall in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

I guess we got there an hour or so into the festivities, and we really had NO IDEA what we were in for at this event, but just as we arrived a gentleman talking in a gruff voice and wearing a paper Jim Leyland (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Leyland) mask was ranting on stage.

We were standing towards the rear of the crowd, by the bar, and I ordered a PBR can (naturally) and a cup of candy corn (my favorite fall candy, which according to the “Arts & Living” editors of The Washington Post means I am a "Purely deluded” person. I “don't get that candy shouldn't attempt to imitate other food groups, particularly corn." http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/artsandliving/source/features/2007/halloween-candy-102807/chart.html?hpid=smartliving)

As we were enjoying our drinks, snacks and comedy, a few of Sarah's co-workers passed by us on their way out and we ended up relocating to spot they vacated in order to get a better view of the stage.

BIG MISTAKE.

Right after we moved, Mike turns turns to Sarah and I and, in a discreet yet fervent tone says, "Um do you realize that you were standing RIGHT NEXT to David Cross?"

LG: What?!?! Tobias Fucking Funke? Where?!?! Where? [tiptoeing] I don't see him!!

Mike: He was actually standing so close to us that I couldn't whisper "David Cross is standing next to you," because he definitely would have heard.

I maneuvered my way into a position with a decent view of the bar where I had been standing. Sure enough, the spot was now occupied by genius character actor/comedian David Cross.

BITTER! I blew my opportunity to chat up David Cross! My only secret hope and dream at that point was that he would somehow get involved with the show that was underway.

As I made my secret wish and then announced it to Mike and Sarah (I am a bad secret-keeper), “Jim Leyland” welcomed a guy named Todd Barry to the stage. Didn’t recognize the name, but I immediately recognized him as....that guy from....FUCK! WHAT HAVE I SEEN THIS GUY IN? It was killing me. I took a break from racking my brain though once I realized how hysterically funny this guy was. I guess his schtick is total low-energy delivery with a really calm and soothing--borderline creepy—voice.

At one point he told us about how he recently did a show in Alabama, and he always gets asked by New Yorkers: “Alabama? What was THAT like?”

“Oh, well you know. It was at a club. There was a stage. Chairs were made available for audience to sit in…..No. I know what you mean. What was it [whisper] REALLLLLY like? Well, I arrived the Birmingham airport and was immediately greeted at the airport by the grandmaster wizard of the Klu Klux Klan. From there we rode bareback by mule to the comedy club, where I was barely able to deliver my routine over the shouts of “Go home Jewboy!” And then I was paid in pork rinds. Is that the answer you were looking for you narrow-minded liberal assholes?”

After the show I ran into Todd and talked with him a bit. Funny. Nice. Doesn’t talk in that creepy-calm voice in real life. FINALLY realized what I recognized him from…He’s Todd from Flight of the Conchords. TODD! The bongo-playing Todd that achieved massive musical success by forming a rival band with Dimitri Martin and releasing the hit song “Doggie Bounce.” I remember when the episode aired I recognized Dimitri (I’ve posted one of his Daily Show videos on here before—“Video Resumes,” if you recall) and texted Sarah: “Dimitri Martin. Key-tar.” That’s all. She understood completely too, which is why we get along so swimmingly.

Jim Leyland (who I will mention was actually John Glaser) hopped back on stage and was rudely interrupted by a loud skur-kuffle at the bar. Something about Heineken not being available and Red Stripe tasting like piss. It took me a moment to realize that one of the two guys fighting with the bartender was David Cross and this was a staged sketch. David Cross and another guy (who I recognized but still haven’t figured out who he is) took the stage as “The Heiny Brothers,” two rather unrefined guys from Boston that love the Sox and loooooooove Heinekin.

Finally, the last stand-up, Eugene Mirman, took the stage. It started off awkward, to say the least, which immediately indicated that he was going to be AWESOME. By the end, I was doubled over in stomach pain from laughter. I wanted to run into him after the show just to tell him that without a doubt, I have not laughed as hard as I did during his bit than I have in, I’d say a year.

Eventually we did cross paths. Toward the end of the night, in the garden, after he had had (I would guesstimate) around 8 glasses of scotch, he sat down next to me on a bench. He was slurring his words a lot and I'm fairly certain that he had no idea what was going on, but we got a picture of him holding the Crag.

The next day I IMDB’d him. He plays the landlord on Flight of the Conchords. EUGENE THE LANDLORD!! And on a hot tip from a couple we met dressed at Rhymenocerous and Hip-hop-opotamus, he apparently hosts Sunday nights at this bar with Michael Showalter. (Love him!)

If there is one thing I can take away from Wednesday night, it is that you should always believe people who dress as Rhymenocerous and Hip-hop-opotamus. People dressed as giant inflatable penises, not so much.

An unlikely duo.

As most of you know, I prefer to leave work-related items out of this blog as much as possible. But tonight cannot go untouched. So I’ll have to just sub in some names and let you draw your own conclusions.

My office is handling all media relations surrounding the 10-night run of the band Von Hovi* (name changed for privacy reasons) at a brand new arena in Newark, New Jersey. Since you probably have no idea who Von Hovi is, I’ll fill you in on the background: This is a band from NJ that became rather popular in the 80’s and maintains a steady New Jerseyan following. As my friend Sarah said, “Going to see (Von Hovi) in Jersey is like going to see Jesus…in Jerusalem."

Until that week, we didn’t know how much press would be allowed to cover this, but it quickly got out of control and it was clear that all hands would be needed on deck.

So yesterday, one of my bosses says to me: “So? Are you a big Von Hovi fan?”

LG: “I really couldn’t care less about them.”
Boss: “Let me rephrase that. Do you have unbreakable plans tomorrow night?”
LG: “I’d be happy to work the show.” (at this point, not super thrilled…but alright. Why not?)

The essential concert personnel from our office headed to the venue around 2pm today, and the three of us (including me) who were called in for backup headed over around 4:30. One of the guys I was traveling with is fresh out of college, about 5’3" and is ALWAYS bouncing off the walls...and totally cracks me up with his crazy energy. We’ll call him “Fritz.” The other guy could not remind me more of Woody Allen. Right down to the way he talks, lives (in Brooklyn) and wears glasses (thick). We’ll call him “Woody Allen.”

As we were boarding the train to the Jerze, Fritz started naming every Von Hovi anthem he could think of and then proceeded to sing them. Passionately. Oddly enough, this actually got me pretty stoked to see the band. I kind of forgot how many songs they sing that remind me of college frat parties (there are A LOT of Penn Staters from NJ).

Walking from the train to the arena, Fritz mentioned that Eddie was really excited to see My Chemical Romance (There is no sense in changing this name. It’s just too perfect).

LG: Oh? Woody Allen, when are you going to see My Chemical Romance?
Fritz: Tonight. We all are. They are opening for Von Hovi.
LG: WHAT? !?!? Are you sure? That doesn’t even make any sense. At all. (then I proceed to text Robbie that I am going to have an awesome story for him later because I already know that the possibilities are endless when it comes to talking MCR with Robbie. It leads into discussions of Hot Topic, emo haircuts and eyeliner always.)

Now, before I go on, I just want you to sit back and think for a moment about the kind of crowd a MCR concert + Bon Jovi concert IN New Jersey will draw.

If you were thinking “an awesome one,” you are right. Gold star.

When the three of us got into the press room, our boss told us that our main duty will be to escort and accompany the photographers to the front of the stage before each band’s set and escort them out after each band's third song. He then took us into the arena area and showed us where to stand during all of this. The area is between the bouncer barrier and the stage. Closer than front row seats, obviously.

Then I looked up. And Ron Von Hovi is standing over me getting ready to sound check.

I can play like I’m too cool for school all I want, but that is fucking unreal. Ron Von Hovi is kind of an American icon. One that doesn’t age apparently, either, cause he looks great (and I’m not into him at all). Kudos to his dermatologist, personal trainer and dentist.

Then, we walked backstage as Von Hovi's soundcheck was continuing and we passed a gentleman in a black hoodie who seemed friendly enough, gave us the "chin up" nod and a “What’s Up?” I almost didn’t recognize him without the eyeliner and tears running down his cheek, but it was definitely the Black Parade music video dude. Or MCR lead singer. However you want to associate it. Fritz said he thought that his casual salutation was actually an outcry for friendship and perhaps if we were a bit warmer, he would have gone in for a hug. Maybe he is so sad because he needs friends. Don’t hate on emo kids. Change an emo kid’s life by befriending them. There are many on MySpace that you could certainly AT LEAST EXTEND an offer of e-friendship to.

Anyway, I was thisclose to the stage for MCR, and homeboy wore all black, but no makeup, surprisingly. And if it’s not tooooo weird to say, he’s actually a very pretty guy under all that Sephora. Perfect teeth (which I have a thing for) and gorgeous eyes (why detract with all that eye gunk? Sounds like SOMEONE needs a Jane “makeUNDER”!!!)

The we escorted the photogs out after three songs. I was going to try and go back in to catch the last song (which I assumed would be “Welcome to the Black Parade,” and I am not ashamed to admit I really like), but my services were needed backstage blocking the media from attacking the catering room. One chick asked if she could go in and get some hot soup. I wanted to be like “What? Are you Oliver Twist? Does this look like a fucking soup kitchen? First of all, steak and fettuccine alfredo are what’s on the menu. Second of all, are you starving? Go around the corner to Quiznos like everyone else. Better yet—a base has just been stolen in the Sox game. Free Taco.”

Then the Hovi hit the stage. And I was in charge of keeping order amongst the photographers in the stage left area—the side closest to Von Hovi guitarist Dickie Shamshora.

And there is one question that will continue to perplex me until the day I die: How does that guy score chicks from Melrose Place? He is a wrinkly old bag. If he weren’t a rock star, best he could do is chicks from The Golden Girls. Best. And I’m talking Bea Arthur and Rue McLanahan (let’s face it, she’s a ho. FO sho.). Estelle Getty has higher standards than that.

All in all, totally fun night. Totally unexpected. And TOTALLY Jersey. I didn’t know whether to tease my bangs or sweep them over my black-rimmed eyes. One thing is for sure though: tight pants required.

The ballet is TIGHTs! (that's a slang pun).

Last night I went to City Center to see Christopher Wheeldon’s premiere of “Morphoses.” As a person who knows relatively little about ballet, besides my two-year stint as a ballerina around the ages of 5/6 (which coincided with my stint as a tap dancer…god I hope those cowgirl pictures of me tapping in the fringe skirt and sequins never surface) and know who Mikhail Barishnikov is (who, by the way I SAW outside of the theatre last night. But just to prove how much of a non-ballet-focused person I am, my first thought after my eyes popped out of my head was “OMG! Alexandr Petrovsky!! Why were you such a dick to Carrie?!?).

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes. As a person who knows relatively little about ballet, it was….AWESOME.

Which I think was kind of Wheeldon’s point, from all the press I’ve read (his publicist needs a pat on the back).

Check out this New York Times article: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/30/arts/dance/30solw.html
And this week’s New York Magazine article: http://nymag.com/arts/classicaldance/dance/features/39314/

Wheeldon wants to bring ballet to the young folks…and make it fun, youthful and sexy. Mission accomplished, sir.

About a month ago, Sarah B. sent me a list of various events she wanted to attend and if I wanted to go to any with her. Given my budget I only allowed myself one. Between picking from various ballet and theatre events she listed, as well as an Arcade Fire concert (and you all know how much I like Arcade Fire), as soon as I looked up the description for Morphoses, I was sold. I think the nail in the coffin was the fact that Wheeldon brought in Narciso Rodriguez to do the costumes. I figured, even if I hated the show, I could appreciate the outfits.

I didn’t hate the show. In fact, I was mesmerized. During the second part of the show, each ballet was introduced by a short behind-the-scenes rehearsal film, which I thought added an entirely new and interesting element to the presentations.

The real jaw dropping show was the last piece: Fool’s Paradise. My first reaction after watching it was “Did David Lynch direct this ballet?” So, OBVIOUSLY, I loved it. It was totally weird and sexual in a creepy yet awesome way that makes you want to watch it again. Which is how I feel about most David Lynch projects.

I know this premiere run is sold out in New York, but if Wheeldon’s company takes off, which I predict it will, I highly recommend catching a performance to ballet and non-ballet folks alike. A truly mesmerizing and interesting experience that will make you smile at times and scratch your head in wonder at others—a dichotomy that begs you to come back for more.

Final tidbit: According to his Playbill bio, Wheeldon choreographed the movie Center Stage, a cheesy guilty pleasure of mine (story-wise, the dancing at the end is tight though, so hats off to you, sir) which plays on the Oxygen Network AT LEAST once a week. That did not stop me from impulse buying the DVD at Target for $7.99, though.

Niles Crane is angry and he's not gonna take it anymore.

Last Friday, Sarah D. asked if I wanted an extra free ticket to the Rangers-Islanders game at Madison Square Garden. Why not? I had an open evening, and had never been to MSG.

Little did either of us know, she COULD have posed the question THIS way:

“Do you want to go to a top shelf open bar suite with an all-you-can eat buffet for free? Oh, by the way, there’s also hockey game going on….....Yeah? Ok. Meet me at 6:45 in front of Madison Square Garden.”

To say that things got out of hand fairly quickly is somewhat of an understatement.

To say that we considered calling the MSG “concierge” to have them bring us another bottle of Johnny Walker because we had already gone through one bottle by the second period, but didn’t have to because the concierge replenished it automatically, would be accurate.

To say that I didn’t consume a week’s worth of food and at least a weekend’s worth of drink would be a total fucking lie.

I don’t know who won the game. I think it was the Rangers. But by that time, Sarah and I were lying on the suite floor. BECAUSE WE COULD. An hour after the game, when the MSG staff told us it was time to pack up, we headed on our trek back uptown.

Our trek involved a stop at what I can only describe as “Disco McDonalds” so that I could use the bathroom, and Papaya King so that Sarah could get the most disgusting looking hotdog I had ever seen. Then, As we rounded 45th Street towards Mike and Sarah’s apartment, Sarah had a glorious idea.

As a bit of background, David Hyde Pierce (AKA Niles Crane on “Frasier”) is starring in a play on the corner of Mike and Sarah’s block. The first weekend I was in the city Sarah and I were walking through a crosswalk and I saw DHP walk right by us. And of course pointed him out. The following week, Mike and Sarah saw DHP on their block hugging Liza Minelli (AKA “Lucille 2”).

Anyway, Sarah’s glorious idea was to wait outside of the theatre with the rest of the post-play crowd that had gathered and meet David Hyde Pierce.

I was pretty amused by this idea. Mike was not amused AT ALL. But he basically got outvoted because I always love watching people make fools of themselves. Which of course was inevitable. Every time a cast member came through the stage exit, Sarah took a picture with them and even had one actress sign her arm with a Sharpie.

We were both visibly and olfactorally intoxicated, which really pissed off the Playbill-carrying crowd patrons (everyone but us). The actors and actresses went along with it and kind of had fun with us.

UNTIL David Hyde Pierce appeared. I guess he was wearing something that had to do with his role or part of his costume or something, but he was wearing a Boston Police Department hat and polo. So after he signed a receipt that Sarah pulled out of her pocket, I asked him if he was from Boston.

DHP: No.
LG: Then what’s with all the Boston garb?
DHP: Well MAYBE if you’d come see the SHOW you’d KNOW.

[Mental note: OOOOOHHHH Snap. I totally just got carried by Niles Crane.]

Sarah: Well we just live next door.
DHP: Well then you really have no excuse.
LG: Um, Ok. Maybe we’ll get tickets.
DHP: Get tickets, come back, and I’ll sign your Playbill.

[end scene.]

Mike, who has been totally embarrassed by the whole situation that had ensued over the previous 20 minutes had a smug look on his face, “You just made mortal enemies with DAVID HYDE PIERCE.”

The next morning, I met up with them to head to a bar for the Penn State game. Sarah still had “Deborah Monk” scribbled in Sharpie on her upper arm.

My encounter with the two smallest non-midget humans + Wes Anderson (also very small)

Last night I went to a film screening, followed by a Q&A with WES ANDERSON (!!!), Jason Schwartzman (!!), and Natalie Portman (!). I knew Jason Schwartzman and Natalie Portman were small, but sweet jesus, not pixie elves. Luckily, short people don’t scare me, so their physical stature doesn’t affect the high esteem in which I hold both of them. Jason’s long been in my top 5 list of favorite actors, and has been holding steady at #1 ever since I saw the grossly underrated movie Slackers. As for Natalie, I’ve always respected her role choices and she gets even more points for her boldness last night. Read on.

Last night I attended the SoHo screening of "Hotel Chevalier," Wes Anderson’s 12-minute prequel to "The Darjeeling Limited" (out in limited release this Saturday). More so than the news that FOX cut the short film from the theatrical release of "Darjeeling," "Hotel" is making headlines for bringing us Portman’s first nude scene. While it was done extremely tastefully, you have to be super bold to sit in front of a room and answer questions from a crowd that just saw you totally naked.

I LOVED the film. But since I saw it in an atmosphere chock full of Anderson superfans that waited 3+ hours in line for 12 minutes in cinematic heaven, it’s hard to say whether that assesment is based on the film itself or the shared experience of laughing at every dry line that more often than not goes over the head of a typical moviegoer. Also, I saw in the credits that Marc Jacobs for Louis Vuitton had something to do with the costume and luggage design for the project. Soooooo, you can imagine that my state was somewhere between overstimulation and blacking out from hyperventilation.

Wes is known for his visually spectacular presentation, and although the entire movie was shot within the confines of a Parisian Hotel room (a real room/set- i.e. no fake walls), he still managed to pull it off. True to form, it also features quirky music. In fact, during the Q&A, Wes admitted that the song that plays throughout, "Where Do You Go To (My Lovely)" by Peter Sarsted, was the inspiration for the film. In fact, Jason said Wes played the song in the background when he called him with the idea.

Before I go on, I must give credit to Sarah D. for calling me Monday night to give me the head’s up on this event. She’s quickly securing a spot as my “Person of the Year,” between her wingwoman skills and the Wes/Jason alert. I was nervous I wouldn’t get into the screening, as the policy was first come first serve and the earliest I can get out of work is 6. The event was at the Apple store on Prince Street (SoHo) and I rolled up around 6:30. Success! Full success! I got a wristband and a guaranteed spot inside. And if you wanted a shot at actually being able to see the screen, the Apple staff advised us to stay in the line. So I did. Until 9:45. When they finally let us in. 45 minutes late.

Capacity was 200, and I was number 132. The Apple store has a decent sized screening area if you’re entertaining, say a 3rd-grade field trip. There were 5 rows of theatre-style seating which I’d guess fit about 75-100 viewers. The rest was standing room only. I got a halfway decent spot behind the event photographers. I could see the film fine, although once Jason, Natalie and Wes came out, I had to shift and tip toe. I’m going to blame that on their height, though, not mine.

I had prepared two questions, which ended up getting asked, albeit by other people. The first question, the obvious one, was addressed in Wes's first answer. “Which came first the chicken (Darjeeling) or the egg (Chevalier)?” Wes said the “prequel,” Hotel Chevalier, was originally shot before Darjeeling was ever written, not as an afterthought of the movie, and not as a part of the movie. He also once considered making it a part of the full-length film, but then thought it might be cooler to show a 12 minute short, have a little break for people to check their cell phones and get some snacks and then show Darjeeling. But then he realized that didn’t really work in a theatre setting. Hotel will be a feature on the DVD though. I also heard it might be made available for free download on iTunes.

The other question I had jotted down (also keeping in mind Natalie Portman’s recent participation in "Paris Je t’Aime," a collection of short films by various directors shot in exclusively in Paris) was whether or not Wes would ever consider doing a collection of short films. As an afterthought now, Hotel Chevalier was shot in Paris. That totally could have been a part of "Paris Je T’Aime." Anyway, Wes said he would love to do a film composed entirely of shorts. And I would love it if he did, too.

My favorite question, though:

Guy: "Is Kumar in Darjeeling?"
Wes: "Um, I don't think most of the people here know what you are talking about and I'm not going to explain it, but yes. He has a brief part."

NOTE: I knew what he was talking about. And I suspect any Wes Anderson fan would. You underestimate your following, Wes. You really do.

The Q&A lasted about 30 minutes and, for me personally was a once-in-a-lifetime experience not only to gain insight to my all-time favorite director’s perspective, but just to see Wes and Jason banter back and forth from, like, 20 feet away.

Even though I spent three and a half hours waiting in line, I have zero complaints. The people watching was second-to-none. The screening might as well have been co-sponsored by NYU’s Tisch School for the Arts and whoever produced that “Hipster Olympics” video that’s so damn popular on YouTube. In front of me were two female students/American Apparel employees, one sporting a platinum blonde faux-hawk and silver lamé bike shorts, the other rolling her own cigarettes. The guy behind me wore thick-framed glasses, tight jeans, brought dinner with him from Dean and Deluca, followed by a can of beer wrapped in a brown paper bag. I ended up chatting a bit with the guy standing next to me when I first arrived, who appeared to either be a reporter or a very diligent note taker. He was kind of cute in a retro-nerdy way but he definitely had some kind of nervous tick, so I assumed he was probably some brand of psychotic. Later on in the night his friend, a white guy with an Afro (who via eavesdropping I found out later was an actor/comedian/bandmember with no dayjob...which I think is the norm here) showed up on his bike and reported that he had a 24 ounce beer and four chocolate chip cookies for dinner. MAN! I was starving. I must have looked it too because the girl working at the Alessi coffee bar that I was situated just outside of in line gave me my choice of pastries they had left at closing. So I chowed down on slice of Almond Brioche and looked forward to the evening to come…

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Appendix: My favorite lines from Hotel Chevalier.

Jason’s character: [On the phone with room service, ordering in French] “…oui, et pain avec frommage…Um. How do you say grilled cheese in French?”

Natalie’s character: “If we fuck I am going to feel like shit tomorrow morning.”
Jason’s character: [long pause] “That’s OK with me.”

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Update from my "Person of the Year:"
Marc Jacobs meets Wes World: http://www.observer.com/2007/welcome-wes-world

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Other press:
Pictures of the line from last night (I was at about the spot where this picture cuts off):
http://www.alleyinsider.com/2007/09/natalie-portman.html

Pictures of Jason, Natalie and Wes at the Apple store last night:
http://www.celebrity-gossip.net/celebrities/hollywood/natalie-portman-gets-naked-for-wes-anderson-film-202043/

LA Times on "Hotel Chevalier": http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/movies/la-et-darjeeling24sep24,1,3665790.story?coll=la-headlines-entnews&track=crosspromo

Guy who got the actual quotes right from last night because he is a reporter with a notepad:
http://www.nypress.com/blogx/display_blog.cfm?bid=97512440

A weekend of highs and lows.

My first week in NY was a whirlwind. I think the blog is going to take a back seat for awhile now that I know work is definitely going to be a lot more intense (no more posting during office hours, from what I can tell so far).

Friday after work I stopped at Pinkberry for frozen yogurt. And after just one cup I am addicted. It’s indescribable and incredible, but I’ll take a shot: Tart, frozen creamy deliciousness topped with fresh fruit and various cereals. I opted for raspberries and Cap’n Crunch. Also available: Fruity Pebbles, Coco Pebbles, Granola, Kiwi, Blackberries, Lychee, etc.

I hit 10th Avenue with Sarah, Mike (Sarah’s husband) and Joe (Mike’s brother) later that evening. As I was walking to meet up with them however, some sort of particle hit me in the eye and I was having a tough time trying to get it out. So I stopped in Mike and Sarah’s bathroom before we went to the bar and realized a huge chunk was missing from my cornea. Sarah had no eyepatches on hand, so I braved the bar with a red, tear-y eye, which really consistenly flared up when I laughed really hard…to the point where I needed a napkin to sop up the tears. So Sarah has about 4 pictures of me that look like I am in absolute agony, weeping in a bar on my first night out.

Mike and Joe were taking in the Yankees game at the bar, while Sarah and I were taking in many drinks. The game went into something like 14 innings and Sarah and I (who both loathe the Yanks) had about enough by inning 12. So we left the boys to finish watching the game and took the subway down to the village and ran into a bar I had been to and had a great time at before: Fat Black Pussycat. For a bit, it was just me and Sarah at a booth, which apparently is the universal invitation for obnoxious/sketchy guys to come chat. One such fellow sat down next to me and would not shut the fuck up. I thought I could get us off the hook my mentioning that Sarah was married. Turns out that just made him refine focus his focus to me. So Sarah winked at me, got up, and left me at the booth. Alone. Distraught. And wondering what signal I was giving her that it was OK to leave me alone with Creepy McCreeperton, the self-proclaimed Investment Banker (which I am POSITIVE was a total lie).

Turns out Sarah is the best wingwoman ever. She discreetly found two normal guys, explained the situation and talked them into saving me. No less than 2 minutes later, my “boyfriend,” Brian and his friend showed up and yelled “LESLIE!! Baby? How’s your night going? Why is this guy here??” So they sat down at chatted with us for a couple minutes and then our real entourage, Mike and Joe showed up, depressed from the Yankees loss shortly thereafter. Crisis averted.

Got a late start Saturday, but Sarah and I did some shopping downtown at The Container Store before watching an extremely depressing Penn State-Michigan game. I’ll be the first to admit that we deserved to lose that game. The only thing good about it was the bottle of red wine, hummus, nachos and salsa we consumed during play. Morelli should be tarred and feathered for that performance.

Today I met my other Sarah (Buck) for lunch in Central Park and a walk around the Upper West Side. It was great catching up with her and planning our upcoming concert and ballet schedule. I also feel like a terrible friend because I totally didn’t realize tomorrow is her birthday (I am horrible with dates). But anyway…HAPPY BIRTHDAY SARAH!