this is a city for not sleeping

As I left my office tonight, after my sexy 14.5 hour day (not bad!), I walked out into Times Square, smack dab in the middle of a huge crowd gathered to watch Shakira do her thing on the MTV big screen. I have to say, it was a wonderful sight.

Then I took too long to get home (thank you L train), booked from Bedford Ave to my gorgeous apartment (well, I think so) with a smile on my face, cracked open a Magners and turned on the shower -- good and hot.

I tore through "Moonlight Mile" and Staind's version of the Beetlejuice song (Must. Update. Playlist), a capella'd a little "So Far Away" (why not?) dried off, worked a comb through my hair and moisturized while dancing to "Angel of Harlem" in the bathroom (I never said I was cool, just fantastic.)

It was a good day. It's a good night. I thought I'd better put that out there to remember this tomorrow, when I'm yelling and crying. Because tomorrow is going to be an early day and a tough day, but the good kind of tough. I hope. And then a three-day weekend. Delight.

the plan won't accomplish anything if it's not implemented

I was waiting for the bus today, and these two teen-ish moms with their two three year old kids were happening by. "Get the fuck away from me. Stop touching me. I can't stand you" one said to her child. That child then started acting up (shocker) and then pulled something from the other child's hand. That little boy started crying, at which point his lovely mother said, "Stop being such a faggot. He didn't even hit you that hard."

Oh the things you see when you haven't got your gun.

I started thinking things to say to these people. Evil horrible nasty things that I've never said to anyone ever. Things I don't think I've ever thought, never mind said out loud. Instead of those things, I will say that it may be time for me to take my vigilante lust on the road and stop problems before they start. Because, seriously, those two little boys are going to grow up to be total maniacs (clearly) and totally rob and rape my children. And that is not OK.

Perhaps I should start carrying around the Chad Hunt SuperCock (TM?) and hand out hearty cock slaps to offending parents. And all other offending parties. I'm going with the SuperCock because it is big and terrifying and could probably whip out some facial fractures in the right hands. Also, I don't think anyone would let me carry a gun.

be delicious and still be influential

We went to a new restaurant last night. I fear new restaurants. What if they are terrible and it was my idea to go? That is a nightmare. But we have a friend from out of town staying with us, and while she is here it is best to go to places she has not been before.

Because of this (and my unwavering obsession with strawberry mojitos) we went to a place in the Williamsburg/ Bushwick environs called Mojito Loco.

It was delightful.

We started out with the gorgeous fruit mojitos (our table had two raspberries, a blueberry and my strawberry) — though the fresh watermelon margarita was very tempting — and ceviche (we punked out and got non-spicy). Magic. They also give your table plaintain chips when you sit.

Remember when Black Betty gave you pre-food food — what is that called, anyway — well, now they don't. I'm also tired of getting attitude there. I am an easy customer and a good tipper. Why the shade? Seriously, last weekend the server was such a beast that when three of us ordered the same thing (food and cocktail) she got annoyed. Um, that's easier for you, you stupid bitch.

Anyway, at Mojito Loco, depite ordering 11 labor intensive cocktails — PS Did I mention that the second round was a happy hour freebie? — the woman helping us was delightful, and also the owner/manager/chef/whatever (I'm not sure of her exact role, but she's clearly running things) came over to seat us, tell us about specials, check on how our food was and invite us to an upcoming event.

The four of us got out of there at just over $100 (with 11 drinks!) and I will go back soon for sure.

So there's a new Sloan song, in addition to the one on their MySpace page. It's called "Fading Into Obscurity," and I can't tell if it was sent out to every Sloan fan or just a random sampling. But I am permitted to share it with friends, so says the note, so if we are friends (I think we are) and you want to hear it (I think you do), hit me up.