I am happy to report that this snowstorm has LEGS! If it's going to storm, make it count. It is counting today and I am working from home screening a big stack of DVDs.
Last night was a trip. A very SWEATY trip. I was shvitzing like a pig and though I knew it was bad, I didn't realize how very Albert Brooks it was until I saw the show. Oy. Sometimes it's good to wipe your brow when you feel sweaty.
The snowstorm got really bad around ten last night and I began feeling horribly that Joan had to shlep to Soho in the Nor'easter. The lady is a trouper, and she was there with bells on. She makes me laugh and part of the reason for my moisture was that I was really touched and
honored to have her sitting across from me after spending many years laughing at her as she guest-hosted Carson.
After the show, Eli and I braved the storm and faced the Boom Boom Room, which was full of hot people dressed to the nines. You couldn't see anything outside and it felt like a great end of world party.
I ran into this artist named Brad who had a terrible case of the hiccups. I asked him if I could slap him in the face to see if I'd scare his hiccups into submission, and he obliged me. I slapped him eight times, each harder than the next. The hiccups stayed but I LOVED IT.
Very late in the evening, a gentleman who I have met many many times over the years came up to me and thrust me into an episode of The Real Housewives of NYC as he told me that my reputation is that I don't remember people I have met before. (That backs up my own reputation in my mind because I do have a horrible problem with this.) Anyway he didn't care that I actually remembered his name and him, it went on and on and on and on.
I was looking for Jill Zarin or a NY wife so that I could continue the scene, but none appeared. It was time to end the night!