Wine Spritzers

I have decided that it is super fun to visit people you know in a large, overwhelming city. They know all the greatest places and can maneuver through anything. You don't need to waste alcohol money on maps or extra subway rides when you go the wrong way...

We spent yesterday eating brunch at an amazing Israeli place, complete with fresh pita and orange juice. The food was so incredible, I almost forgot that they probably poisoned by freedom-loving self's food. No, now, Hellcat was only kidding. If it were a Palestinian joint, then she would be worried.

Chelsey was calling us, because several galleries were holding shows that sounded cool. Alas, one was closed due to the holiday weekend, and we ended up trying to answer the question "What sound does color make?" The exhibit was subpar and the only answer I had to the queston was something similar to the sound my soul makes when being sucked out of my solar plexus. And it also sounds like kittens dying.

We needed a drink after that one.

Anyway, we stumbled upon an exhibit of Mona Kuhn's photography, which really blew our minds. She photographs friends at a French nudist colony who are all young and beautiful...she mostly uses a super shallow depth of field in the photos, and they are a knockout. Even if these hotties had their clothes on, it would have been amazing. But, as it was, we got to see some naked, glistening parts, so...

We needed another drink after that.

Apparently the drink of choice in stuffy Chelsey is a wine spritzer. Not being blonde or rail-thin with a sweater tied around my neck, I opted for Guinness and was immediately labeled a bull dyke by the waif behind the bar. I licked my lips at her and kept walking.

A friend of David and Caspian's was going to a play, so we joined in. We were surprised at the lame acting. The writing really had us in the first act but went totally downhill in the second, so we spent dinner compaining and offering ideas on how to make it good. It was taking a lot of work, and a lot of vodka. My mango-chutney prok chop was fabulous, though. And I think we ended up with a hit show on our hands.

David suggested we get a cup of hot chocolate. We walked uptown, and discovered that with every step, David got more and more sad about his old relationship with his last serious girl. They lived near where we were headed and his melancholy was palpable. This reminded me of MY melancholy...

...we have to go to the box office now. Going to go see a Broadway show. More to come...

ring a ding ding. g