Friday was a bonifide Snow Day, and I loved it. I got a lot of work done in my apartment and felt like the Lord was giving me a big flannel hug all day.
By evening, the madness outside had stopped long enough for me to go to a friend's house and watch The September Issue. (I am behind on everything except Bravo.) I really enjoyed the movie even though it was fairly humorless and maybe a teensy bit dull? I fell in love with Grace Coddington and was alert every time Wintour walked into that room where she chose what was in or out of the magazine.
Saturday I TCB'd, prayed for the people of Chile, prayed for Marie Osmond, and checked in and out w/ CNN for Quake coverage and tsunami speculation by every local station in Hawaii. Interesting to note that their local news is as bad as everywhere else. Mahalo!
Saturday night I went to the Theater for the New City in the East Village to see the legendary NYC theater duo Charles Busch and Julie Halston in their latest play "Divine Sister." I loved it so much - the perfect old school laugher that Saturday nights are made for. Afterwards, we went with Charles and Julie to an Italian joint across the street that's been there since 1904. It felt like 2001 and it was tons of fun.
My favorite headline yesterday was from HuffPo: "Snooki, Chris Noth OK After Glass Ceiling Shatters At Purim Party." I don't need to know more.
Yesterday afternoon I went to see this brand new movie called Avatar. (I told you I am behind in everything.) I loved it. How can it not win Best Picture?? No contest, right? (I haven't seen The Hurt Locker so I don't know what I'm saying.) After the movie we were very agitated and had a lot of energy that needed attending. NYC is populated with crazy, hyper-alert people, and we had a real live wire crazylady in front of us at the Sony Lincoln Square for the film. The ponytailed wakadoodle FREAKED when the first preview came on, yelping "PREVIEWS!?!!?!?" to no one in particular. Moments before the movie started, a baby started fussing somewhere in the theater. She almost stood up, exclaiming to no one in particular, "YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING." Every time Amanda, my companion, rustled her bag of nuts, the lady looked back and stared at us for :07 (:07 is a long time, count to 7 and you'll see.) I sneezed, she would give me a stare. I would fake sneeze (I had to just to irritate her), and she'd give me a look. These are the crazyladies that walk among us, live in our buildings, dote on their identical-twin dogs, call 311, but somehow never wind up on "Hoarders." I saw an obit for one in the Times last week who actually made it rich inventing the pooper scooper. To me she looked like a neighborhood wacko. Sometimes you can't tell the difference.