There and Back Again
Have survived my first official business trip. And, um, yeah. Let's hope I won't have to do that again. Blech.



I'm not even going to try and narrate my way through this one. Here are the highlights:

* Spent Saturday in the BK (Brooklyn) with my college roommate. Think Glinda from Connecticut. Hadn't seen her in over a year--delightful. Walked along the Esplanade; hit Sweet Melissa for some of the best eclairs I've ever wolfed. Plus Brooklyn is absolutely infested with houses of worship, which I can't get enough of. There's an entire compound of Jehovah's Witnesses--seriously, they have blocks of property right over the bridge. Steph wouldn't let me go talk to them, though. Hrmph.

* Saturday night was party in Gramercy with the NYU Near Eastern Studies department, courtesy of my friend Jenn. Caught up with another college friend and spent manymany hours playing the do-you-remember game. We still mock Marc for his lame opening line. "Cake's good today," he said. Steph and I dutifully blocked this dining hall come-on from our memories; but eight years later Birbal's still bitter about the look we (allegedly) gave him. *sigh* Boys...

* Sunday was a tribute to commerce. My friend Ellen (I met her freshman year of high school during our stint as Munchkins in "The Wizard of Oz;" she's now a fancy NY lawyer) kindly directed me 'bout the borough. Stops included:

Forbidden Planet
Wherein hot comic book boys directed me toward Kabuki trades without looking at the spines. (When I looked askance, the answer I got was, "hey, I touch these books a lot." Oh, comic book boys. You are so delightfully nerdy and omnisexual all at once.) Picked up "Circle of Blood," David Mack's first Kabuki run, as well as the latest issue of his "Alchemy" books. Also found a copy of some disturbing stories for children by Hillaire Belloc, illustrated by Edward Gorey. No one does infanticide like Mssr. Gorey. I lurve him.

The Strand
If ever a building inspired me to fall to my knees, singing wild hosannas in helpless wonder and delight, it'd probably be this one. EIGHTEEN MILES of books, people. Half of them are remainders. 'Member that scene where Pookie works in the crack shop in New Jack City? Like that. Picked up two short story collections by Francine Prose--whom I know nothing about, but the descriptions and titles sold me; and besides, they were $3 each--as well as remaindered copies White Teeth, the Mabinogion, and probably something else I'm forgetting. Oh, Angela Carter's Magic Toyshop. Plus a cutie green totebag in which to tote my spoils.

Toys in Babeland
Even though we got turned around trekking through Chinatown (result: six inches of brightly colored confetti stuck to the cuffs of my jeans--kung hei fat choi, y'all) Babeland was totally worth the walk. I stocked up on lube (I've been low, and Good Vibrations hadn't opened when I left. It has now, though. Go check it out--it's awesome), got new porn, and bought my very first restraints. Brightly lit and frantically hued, Babeland's the epitome of the new sex store. The only thing that scared me was an anal dildo that had to be twelve inches long and 8 around. It's name? "Spinal Tap." Um, no. No what? No thank you. Ouch.

Food
ChikaLicious presented me with a tiny yummy chocolate tart; 26 Seats gave me asparagus, duck confit, and chocolate mousse. (Yes, I had two desserts. Whatever. Some calls it calories; I calls it vacation.) Also got my first look at Alphabet City, which ain't what it used to be (or so I'm told), but did see me almost trip over Alan Cummings and his little gay dogs. (You'll be pleased to know that I did not, in fact, chase him down the street with demands that he sing "Wilkommen." But lemme tell ya, it took some *serious* effort on my part.) Plus it turns out the Life Cafe is a real place. Who knew?

* The conference=a suck. I hate it when I have to do real job stuff. The best part was having the hotel room to myself for a single night, wherein I frolicked nekkid round the room 'cause I could and watched trailers for all the movies that looked interesting. I fell asleep before I could choose one. Also, checking into nice hotels is always a kick for me, on account of I don't get to do it that often. It's a cross between Annie doing "I think I'm gonna like it here" and the Simpson's Betty Ford musical "I'm checking in;" I keep waiting for the porters to, like, burst into song and start juggling my luggage or something. Hasn't happenned so far, but I keep hoping.

The best parts of the conference were the addled goth lady who wandered into our suite to ask where "in the flying fajita" the stairs were, and discussing the business models of start-up porn sites with my ex-yeti's dad, who happens to be a member of our board. Other than that, I was bored out of my mind.

I was cranky and menstrual for the whole time I was there; but I survived. And I also got to see "Wicked" with Steph, which knocked my socks off. I know Idina and Kristin have been off the show for ages now; but we ate the whole thing up. (Plus Steph and I have been snickering over Glinda and Elphaba's relationship ever since I first listened to the CD. Her first impression of me in college: "Unusual and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe." Mine of her: "Blonde." 'Nuff said.) I was surprised at the ending, though. I won't give it away if you haven't seen it; suffice it to say that the music doesn't account for all of the play's storyline.



Anyway, I'm back. And I got the best of all possible news when I arrived at my house: grad school acceptance. So I'm on top of the world right now. As long as my job stops trying to make me be a grown-up, I should be all set until September. Hooray!