As much as I was dreading losing an hour of sleep to daylight savings, I'm all for it, now that it feels like summer.
Friday night I saw the Broadway revival of "The Pajama Game," starring Harry Connick, Jr. He is a superstar crooner, my new favorite Broadway star. I want him to be in every musical henceforth. He makes it look so effortless, his voice is flawless, and he's got charisma coming out of his pores. We went back to say hi after the show and he was all Southern Charm.
Saturday I drove to a car dealership in New Jersey with Nutritional Therapist to the elite, Dr. Amanda Baten. The plan was for Dr. Baten to pose as my girlfriend in front of the car dealer so he would give a break on the car to the fellow hetero with the white-hot girlfriend.
He and I are in the same boat, you see. See, me and the car salesman both have hot girls who are a little demanding and want nice cars. It turned out that my demanding gf for the day took her role very seriously. When I asked the salesman how long he'd been working at the dealership, she kicked me. (Turns out I'd already asked him on the test drive. Oh, and seven years.) Then she began a slow campaign to talk me into buying the car that SHE wanted. It almost worked, as I teetered dangerously close to buying her version of perfection and almost walked away from the entire reason we schlepped to Jersey.
I bought the one I wanted, and in the end I don't know why I thought I needed a girlfriend to do it.
We headed straight for Pastis for champagne and nibbly stuff to celebrate and were seated at a table next to Fergie. We were happy for the entertainment and attempted to figure out how many Weight Watchers points the Duchess was squandering at Pastis. She looked "refreshed" in some way and I somehow convinced myself that she was flirting with me. My girlfriend, the good Doctor, informed me that Fergie was absolutely not throwing a flirt my way.
We were kind of high from buying the car and the champagne, being boyfriend and girlfriend, and Fergie -- and then the afternoon really took off. Through the Pastis double-doors walked Harry and William's carefree cousins Beatrice and Eugenie, bundles of energy with shopping bags. I don't know who was who, but one looked just like Prince Andrew and the other will grow into her face beautifully. They seemed outgoing and pleasant. Dr. Baten was busted for staring on three separate occasions by the mini-Prince Andrew.
Saturday evening I saw "Grey Gardens," starring Christine Ebersol and Mary Louise Wilson. It's a musical based on the cult Maysels documentary. The first act is a little snoozy and the second is out of this world. We were seated next to Bette Midler and her husband, which did not take away from our enjoying the show in the least.
And yesterday, Sunday, was one of those perfect New York City spring days that lasts forever. It was a gift that kept on giving. Bruce and I walked to see the new Gehry building on the West Side Highway across from Chelsea piers. They're putting the glass up and it looks amazing. Then we hunted for our Red Cross ads in a spot near the piers, to no avail. I used the extra hour of daylight to buy an amazing lamp at The End of History on Hudson Street.