I have to see a celebrity while I'm here.
And it doesn't count if they're on stage.
Yesterday, mom and I saw Curtains, with David Hyde Pierce AND Gil from Frasier. You know Gil. He's all, "Hello, FRAZIA!"
For some reason, we were seated one behind the other, and I found myself in between the tiniest little old ladies who not only could not see a thing, they wouldn't shut up about it.
"Oh, fa crying out loud. This is tarrable. What am I gonna do? Oh, fa the love a Christ..."
On and on and on and on with this.
I felt like a linebacker sitting between them.
I, needless to say, could see.
So finally, at intermission, the one on my right gets up, takes 45 minutes to collect her 45 overcoats and shimmy past her obsese, disabled friend and goes to the coat check, returning with a red velvet covered booster seat.
This brought her up to approximately my shoulder.
After asking those of us within a 20 foot radius to help her afix it under her ass, that is.
The show was great, however.
And after drinks at the apartment with mom, we met Dani for dinner at Po. It was perfect, the three of us drinking and eating on a little, tree-lined street in the heart of the Village, at the perfect candlelit table by the perfect open window with the perfect gay server. Christmas lights and Stevie Wonder playing and hot breezes and laughing so much, it hurt.
Scuse my cheesyness, but I'm never coming home.
After that, we wandered around until the wee hours before agreeing to meet (oh shit, right now!) at the Union Square Farmer's Market.
This afternoon, Dan and I are off alone for some serious shopping/eating/drinking/bonding. The weather is perfect, Les Halles is in my future and I like my outfit.
Again, I'm never coming home...