stay tuned

Last night, some time between my first vodka tonic and three girls licking chocolate cake off my collarbones, I noticed a small ache in my right side. I decided I must have lifted something heavy and just not remembered. When I woke this morning and felt glued to the bed by pain, I realized that no, I had not lifted something heavy. I had fallen down the stairs in the subway on Friday night. How I could have forgotten such an event, I don’t know, but it only serves as yet another testament that I should be kept in a padded cell.

More details on last night’s Black & White Birthday Bash will follow (along with pictures), but for now just know that Biscuit’s chocolate cake was well… worthy of being licked off my naked flesh.

Friday night was date night with my girls. The movie was stunning and my first Gray’s Papaya was tasty, but the late hour walk up the West Side was undoubtedly the most pleasant part of my day. Girlfriends can be so healing. Maybe that’s why I’d forgotten the night’s earlier subway stair accident.

This city never ceases to amuse me. I was slurping on pineapple juice, listening to Kate and Krissa chatter about the desirability of West Side real estate when we heard a voice behind us.

“Excuse me.”

We turned around and a wilting peach flower was shoved my direction.

“Would you like a rose?”
“No, thank you.”
“Can I have your phone number?”
“No.”

We laughed and continued up the street. Half way up the block, I toyed with what a great story it had made if I’d actually accepted the flower from the goofy-looking stranger. But, having still not gotten around to telling about Thursday’s adventure in pigeon shit, I figured I had plenty of stories and ought not needlessly risk any awkward stalking moments for entertainment purposes. Between falling in the subway, getting shat on by a grossly overfed bird and raucous tales of last night’s birthday fete, we have enough to keep us going for a while.

Stay tuned.