Zoomzoom

CB invited us to a NASCAR party at Marquee. I don't think I ever blogged about the last party at Marquee, which was for Cosmo!'s 50 Hottest Bachelors Issue, where I got shadeball drunk-- determined to avoid a recurrence, I avoided another bottomless margarita preparty, and brought Dan.

The party was awesome. Open bar, open mini-paninis, open mini-cheeseburgers, open mini-macncheese balls, open disregard for fire codes, open DJ AM... you get the idea.

Dan stared David Spade down over that shimmy shake he did in all the promos for Rules of Engagement, and Richard Hayden of Callahan Motors was quaking in his boots.

(I know you want pictures of the mini-macncheese balls, Dennis, but I just couldn't do it. I was too busy stuffing my face).

We had to leave shortly after DJ AM went on, but I was digging it. I felt like DANCING! We were also standing about 5 inches from his turntables and deck and Dan was very impressed when I told him that he used to maybe date Mandy Moore (less so on Nicole Richie).

Oh and also there were a million people waiting to get in but we were ushered in like mid-rated sitcom stars. I love my friends.

Nikke Finke = Badass

Still looks like wishful thinking to have the strike over by Friday, but Nikki's got the goods.

I don't know how she gets her sources, but the woman knows everything.

Razor

I had semi-firm plans to get blasted with a bunch of work people. Cuh-razy, right? We have to work all weekend and were going to blow off steam. Par-tay!

Um... but I blew off the blowing off...

...to watch the new Battlestar Galactica: Razor with Ameet.




Ameet, typically, declared it the greatest night of his life before deciding it was actually mediocre.

He was wrong. It was no BSG Season 1 finale, Season 2 finale, "Resurrection" two-parter, or third episode of Season 3, but it was a solid holdover until the new episodes premiere in (be still, my heart, brace for the pain) March 2008.

I'm aware that trying to convince you it is not that dorky that I stayed in on a Saturday to watch a Sci-fi Channel Special Event just makes it dorkier, but really, it's so good! I was just doing something I enjoy! The worst part is that as soon as I remembered that Razor premiered tonight, I dropped my plans like a hot potato. I was so excited.

Whatever. Ameet was excited too.

Mmmmmmmmmm

From this:


Comes this:


Once we learned how to keep the turkey moist I learned to looooooove Thanksgiving.

Secret Thoughts That Occur While Cooking Thanksgiving Food All Day With The Tube On In The Background

I'm not saying that I want to actually see August Rush, but that stupid preview with Freddie Highmore looking all orphan-angelic and Keri Russell looking even better than in her Felicity days makes me (almost cry) every damn time.

Also, The Hills is probably comparable to Curb Your Enthusiasm in terms of reality. I know comparing the two is kind of mean to LD, but I think he can take it. Do you see my point here? They probably start off with this little paragraph of plot, deliver it to the um... participants... at the last minute, and then they spiel off some bon mots, complete with ums and ahs.

Dan and I saw LD interviewed by Susie Essman at the 92nd Street Y a few months ago because we are awesome kosher-keeping 50somethings sometimes, and LD told us that Curb's unscripted banter stems from the idea that scripted dialogue cannot ever sound spontaneous. To do a fake mockumentary, improvisation is key.

I would like to remind LC and her segment producer ("I want to forgive you and I want to forget you," like that seriously just popped into your head at that very moment, Lauren, come on) of LD's sage advice.

The Clap

Speaking of concerts, Dan and I went to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah the other week at the Bowery Ballroom. It was excellent for several reasons--- first, the venue is like 7 feet from the JMZ stop, which is right near my house, so that's convenient. And the opener was good, which is alawys heartening. Dan hadn't eaten dinner, so 2 beers got him sloshed: amusing, and of course Clap Your Hands played an excellent set and we were about 4 feet from Alec Ounsworth's shoes.

But I have a question. CYHSY has a red-haired keyboardist/ guitarist/ jack-of-all-instruments who gets like, really into performing. So did the opening band, who I liked but had just changed their name and I don't remember it. So does, say, the Arcade Fire.

Is this a new thing? What if you're a ginger keyboardist/guitarist/j-o-a-i who's kind of shy, and doesn't want to dance around the stage during bass solos? What if you only play the keyboard, but play it very well? What if you are obviously not a natural ginger? Do you take a pay cut?

These are the things that keep me up at night.

The Something Awesome

STEVIE WONDER AT THE GARDEN.

Look at how close we were:




I know, right???

Ok, that was the screen.

But it was amazing. I felt like Tim Riggins at Lyla Garrity's megachurch, as the Stevie Wonder acolytes were in full force, crying and cheering and speaking in tongues.

Stevie told us to have love in our hearts and I instantly let go of all my hate. I love you. You. I do.

Then Prince came onstage.

Yeah. That Prince.

Harvard-Yale

So New Haven was fun. We ate at Louis' Lunch, which serves one of my new top-5 burgers of all time (I tearfully remove Santa Monica's Corner Burger from the list), served on sandwich bread, a revelation. Then we got some Rudy's fries, went to an on-campus party and were those sketchy random alums in the corner, saw the line at New Haven's premiere sleazy club and decided I did not in fact need the full Toad's experience, went to some new bar called Hula Hanks that featured an extremely unsafe swing on which drunk girls can pendulate unnervingly high over the bar, and stayed at the Tallywhacker's brother's house. The brother has two toddlers and they are the cutest children ever who aren't related to me.

The tailgate was fun. One very rich alum sponsored a tailgate-in-name-only (is it really a tailgate when it involves a free-standing structure?) that had bartenders and some very delicious fried chicken, among other delicacies.

It's kind of weird being at Yale. I think my high school wish to go there was one of the strongest, most intense desires I've ever had, since there weren't boys to distract me and teenagers are stupid. So it's unnerving being in a crowd made up exclusively of people who the admissions staff deemed worthier, including that dude in the Santa suit and that girl who can't stand up straight, like, what?

Then I remember that I went to Duke, like, hello.



Then we went back to New York, and something awesome happened.

Mango Chutney Mayommmmmmmm

Panicky suggested we go to Pommes Frites last night.

Pommes Frites is a teeny tiny weensy bitty little hole-in-the-wall on 2nd and 9th that serves fries. I thought maybe they were purveyors of all kinds of greasy food, specializing in Begian frites, but no. They serve fries. The menu is extensive in its array of dipping sauces. No bathroom. Of course, it was awesome: a feeling of basically obligation to eat deep-fried potato bits and mayonnaise for dinner. Who cares that it's hell on my arteries? It was all they had! Besides, it's not like you do that every day.

Then I got home. Dan was like, "New Haven this weekend! [NB: Harvard-Yale game] We can go to Rudy's!"

Rudy's serves fries. With dipping sauces.

My hypothetical cardiologist is not gonna like this.

Overdue

So... I never blog anymore. Whatever, I'm not apologizing. You choose to check this page, peeps, and that's all I can say!

No, don't go. Stay. I'm sorry. I'll do better. Maybe. I'll try, in any case. I have this whole post about the incredibly dorky Good Day New York ad campaign planned, and I think you're gonna like it.

In the meantime, pictures and commentary I never shared from Austin.

I'd never been to a huge music festival before, and I finally get the hype, and why people spend hundreds of dollars and personal days to sit in a field and watch concerts all day. It's fucking fun, people! And relaxing! It's like a day spa! At one point we went to an actual swimming hole with Dan's friends Hoagie and Bonesaw and a dog that peed on G.'s bag.

The weekend brought along some old favorites.

Win Butler:




(See how close we were? It was religious).

Katie!:




Dan's hyperactive sweat glands (hello, Texas in summer):




Bjork dressed like a Zulu warrior:




And it also brought new treasures.

Breakfast tacos:




Non-price-gauged beer:



Deer jerky:



Thank you, Texas.

After, After

In light of a likely WGA strike starting tomorrow and cancelling late-night television for an unforeseen period, last night's afterparty was open bar.

We took advantage.






I don't usually hit the after-after but due to several martinis ("I CAN DRINKMARTINISIFIALSO GETALOTOFWATERS CANIHAVEADIRTYMARTINIANDAWATERPLEASE") was talked into a cab and whisked to Professor Tom's downtown.

Have you been there? It's pretty awesome.

For once, I was just lubed enough that I actually talked to some of the writers and famouses. I mean, you can do that at these things. Lots of people do. And I never knew how. Now I know they just drink more. (Or are douches).

Had some conversations about comedy clubs and the marathon, and then hit the jackpot:

KENNETH THE PAGE.

Like, a whole semi-meaningful convo. He said he would try and remember my name.

It was amazing.

I got home at 5.

Today was kind of a waste.

Ahoy, Stumpy!

I have these sailor pants that I really like, but they're too long. They also have a super-wide leg, so when I wear them I look as though I'd been afflicted with gangrene out at sea, and should you press your face to the ground and lift the hem of my pants, you would see the two little wooden pegs on which I balance. Also I fall a lot, so that adds to the effect.

Anyway I hate hemming stuff, so I don't wear the pants too often.

Except for today, because I made a clever discovery.

If your shoes are covered all day at work...

...you can totally wear slippers.


SLIPPERS AT WORK, MOTHERFUCKERS!!!