Meanwhile back at the ranch

So, some other stuff happened. Like, the Kentucky Derby happened. That is notable only because Confetti Jesse came to Brooklyn to go to a party and I crashed the party and we met for the first time in real non-blog life. I found him, as James Lipton would say, "delightful".


At midnight everyone sang "My Old Kentucky Home" and we watched a tape of the Derby that had been run earlier that day, and even though I had bet on a horse, I still had no idea who won. It was that kind of party. It was a good party if you ever wondered what it was like to stand at the convergence of hipsters and frat boys, enjoy dodging randy bisexuals and don't mind the odd domestic dispute. The best part was blog friend Jesse and my old college chum Edith Veder, whom I hadn't seen in ages, but who is still successfully organizing zombies in Beantown. She's a keeper. I remember when the personal hygiene, or lack thereof, of E-Ved's boyfriend became a "house community issue" in our dorm - now she likes bankers. Boy, that makes me laugh.

Fortunately a seed was planted in Jesse's head about emigrating to New Jerk City. I've always said what this city needs is more zombies.


Another thing that happened at this party is that my cell phone was drowned in two inches of bourbon when someone spilled a mint julep into my purse. Neither the phone or my SIM card was salvageable, so if I haven't spoken with you recently, there's a good chance I lost your phone number. You should resend it to me. And tell me a joke.