The spouse and I have just returned from a trip to NYC, celebrating the occasion of our fourth wedding anniversary. It’s not so impressive that we have been married four years so much that it’s been consecutive. I celebrated a lot of it by following him from record store to record store to record store.
One of the high points of the trip for me was seeing Alan Cumming, Cyndi Lauper, and Nellie McKay in the Threepenny Opera. Alan played Mack the Knife as if he were a bisexual hustler. Nellie was fantastic as Lucy, and Cyndi looked mighty foxy in her Pirate Jenny hooker-wear. Costume design by Isaac Mizrahi, who is a hack. I could put rubber pants and a priest’s collar on a chorus member as well as anyone!
We had a great time attending a party for the Ron and Fez XM radio show, and one thing led to another and we sat in on the show the following Tuesday. I really enjoyed it, despite being nervous, and if I had not looked at the message boards for that show immediately afterwards I never would have realized that I am am unfunny asshole.
Our only surprise celebrity sighting this trip was Russell Simmons, enjoying a vegan brunch with an attractive young lady the day before his break with Kimora broke in that bastion of newsworthiness, the New York Post.
Beloved Spouse thinks he saw Karlheinz Stockhausen in Central Park, but it could have been Stockhausen syndrome.
Another feature of the trip was seeing the Munch exhibit at MOMA, and you may think you’ve seen a lot of Munch, but it included a painting that was just discovered in 2004. It looks like a nightmare Gauguin!
We enjoyed hanging out with our gracious hosts and some other friends, and we got to see Stephin Merritt at his DJ night at the Beauty Bar, where we were showered with candy and girl-group hits, so it was really a nice time all around.
It will be of great interest to no-one that I hit 2000 miles on the bike odometer this morning. That’s right, just like the Pretenders song. Or the Proclaimers song about walking 500 miles back and forth to your chick’s house, but if you played it twice. I’m not sure how big Scotland is, but I think that to do 500 miles you’d pretty much be limited to walking around the edge of Scotland. All the way from Thurso to Dumfries is only 341 miles. Where does this chick live, anyway?
Anyway, I am glad to know that I could pedal from Portland back to my native land of Dallas in one hour a day, and that it would only take me seven months.
As long as we’re talking about my bike, let me make some etiquette suggestions. If you wish to drive past a cyclist and scream something unintelligible that ends in “bitch”, you might want to check that you aren’t running into a traffic jam that will cause her to catch up with you in 15 seconds and spit gum in your passenger’s lap and ride off laughing. Not that I would ever do that. After a cyclist recently got clocked by a bus rider in our fair city of Roses, not only am I mostly not spitting gum at people, but I have put a bumper sticker on my bag that reads “Don’t Hit Me! I love you!”
I have survived hosting my two sisters, their British-brother-boyfriends, their boyfriends’ parents, and my mother and my brother from San Diego in my tiny house. It was. An. Adventure. Their dad wandered onto the tarmac while waiting for their flight out from Austin, and was detained for being a terrorist. He claims that no-one told him he couldn’t go walking on the airstrip. He also liked to splash himself with water in the bathroom instead of taking a shower, which has the overall effect of washing the whole bathroom, including the mirror. He is obsessed with Boddington’s pub ale and hot chocolate, but refuses to pay more than $1.50 for anything.
We had a little party after Xmas so that Laura’s friends from Portland could come visit, and this was my first family party I have ever been to that went on past 3 AM. I went to bed at two to the sound of my future father-in-law swishing soy milk around in his Egg Nog bottle to get the last dregs of whiskey and milk out, and my sister Laura singing to the detuned piano on the back porch, and my spouse singing as Tom Waits in the front room.
Laura Ryan: Oh, I was playing that piano last night, it is sounding so creepy and awesome.
Me: Yes, I heard you.
Laura: You could hear that?
Me: It’s right outside my bedroom. There’s not, you know, any kind of soundproofing out on the patio. You’re just a drunk person outside. I love family time.