So I would be remiss if I didn't address my newfound stardom; yes, that's right, I AM in Time Magazine. I know. No, I won't come entertain at your kid's birthday party or speak at your next corporate function. I am basically super-renowned now, for saying things about Jude Law and posing with my cellphone in my back pocket. If you'd like to see it for yourself, check it out here:
Give Me That Old-Time Singing
Really though, it's fun. If you listen to the audio, Aldo does everyone proud in his role as "antiquarian and musician." Silliness.
I tried to swim at Met Pool today, but in my haste to avoid the Hasidim, I went when there was no swimming at all. Lame. Instead I ate a big old bagel and strolled around in the strange sunshine. I saw a guy wearing and Old School NY 'Albany is Eggciting!' shirt in the Bagel Store, and I had just been talking to the counter guy about Schenectady (he asked, he asked), and I turn around and see this shirt-- so of course I blow up and the guy was notttttttttt interested. His girlfriend, who was sitting with him and apparently lives in Albany, was also nottttttttt interested. Whatever.
I got my lost wallet back today. Thank god for my student ID being back in my sweaty paws. Let the scamming resume.
So, Bobby Fischer died. This completes the celebrity dead triangle and I can calm down wondering who's next, at least for a little bit. What do Vampira, Brad Renfro, and Bobby Fischer have in common? What a strange combination.
I'm still at work. Still. Chriz is drinking cognac out of a snifter. There is a gang of guys chatting about doing drugs. I'd like to be in bed.
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