I’m in new shoes so there are blisters. It’s a Thursday night, and I’ve accidentally abandoned my cell phone at home. In a game time decision, I choose Paradou as destination book club. Emails are sent with citysearch links, photos of the garden, a lovely wine list. And yes, the address. No excuses. I cab it downtown and think I might see Caryn Young sitting in the Paradou garden. Caryn and I went to high school together; I haven’t seen her since. Caryn used to call me Moose in front of cute boys, but then she grew up, and so did I. We almost became friends. I didn’t say hello, and now it’s the morning after, and I regret not talking to her. Regret, the way you play eye darts on the subway with someone, and then never speak. Not regret like a pint of Chubby Hubby (may favorite Ben & Jerry’s flavor). I digress. I was on a mission, had to find my girls. Yeah, so not happening.
Annoyed, I cab back to the Upper West Side, change shoes, and pick up the cell. Then I meet up with Vicki. Well well well, who do I see on the street outside the Maritime Hotel? Well if it isn’t Michelle… who bagged the book club. Busted. I love her though, so all is forgiven.
Maritime is a bore in a too long of a line kind of way. Next. Pastis. Where we meet up with Suzara, Todd, Alex, Glenn, Chris, and Aura. With Suzara on his lap, Todd gives me seex pointers. “You just have to attack a guy, and if he can’t handle you… he can’t handle you.” That sounds right. I like Todd. Well done, Suzara. French fries and wine are consumed. And honestly, you can’t really beat that in my book, unless cheese enters the picture… but not cheese fries… because that makes ’em soggy. The waiter somehow felt a mayo vibe at our table and plated up another dish of it. He might as well have just shoved it right into my artery. Now that’s service. This morning, weight nazi. I didn’t tell him about the mayo, or the fries, or the wine, or the cold hamburger I found in my fridge at 1:30 this morning. It’s all good: 125 lbs. and the book clubbing is being rescheduled for a brunch. Because really, what’s a better time to discuss sex than first thing in the morning over eggs. I so love my girls.