Wednesday, September 21, 2005

fun in the city

How fun is it to live here?

I don't want yall to get the wrong idea and think I've become some whiney-ass about living in the city. I mean, I'm here, I want to be here, where else would I rather be? (except of course with you my sweet ones.)

Last night around 11 I got a call from Robin asking if I'm up to going to a taping of the Daily Show. Of course I am. So after I finish up with a Columbia spousal job fair (is spousal really a word? it sounds like a side-effect after getting shingles) I changed and headed down to hell's kitchen to get in line for the show.

Damn John Stewart has a big head. And he's funny. And people in the audience when prompted to ask him questions have a strange idea of what's appropriate (one person making sure he knows that it's her son's birthday, another saying her son in 9th grade is looking for a platform to run for student council and a third -- total idiot girl -- wanting to know what she should write about for some Vanity Fair essay contest about what's on the minds' of young people -- John's response: I'm 42. I don't know. I'm thinking: didn't both my testicles used to be the same size?). And Ricky Gervais (of "The Office" fame) was the guest and if you watched it tonight, you already know all that. So, that was my first taping and being spontaneous, and I'm lucky it happened when it did cuz tomorrow I have my first temp job (filing stuff at some pharmaceutical company).

Afterward I rushed down to NoLita to catch this "launch" of a new lit mag. Allie put me in touch with a former boss of hers who is getting published in their first issue (it's a story about Atlanta and he used to live there, check it out) and since it's my job to meet anyone and everyone I can at the moment, I made the trek. While there I met some young folk who are hep and Brooklyn young and fab. We chatted, acted all cool and like we know all about literature and what's of the moment, but really we were just passing the time so we had an excuse to continue to order from the open bar (damn! these beers would normally be 7 bucks, give me another!) and after I left I was a little buzzed -- from the alcohol and the chatter -- so decided to get a slice.

As I sat in North of Little Italy, chewing on a great pepperoni and cheese, I realized -- perhaps for the first time -- hey, I fuckin live in New York City. I'm not a visitor, I live here. And then I got on the train and came on home.


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