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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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It's a helluva town

We spent the entire weekend in Manhattan.

It rocked.

Dinner Friday night at this place was absolutely delicious. We sat downstairs in the wine cellar which was cool (temperature wise) and informal. A bottle of Sofia, two bottles of Cotes du Rhône, lots of conversation and laughter… it couldn’t have been better. Drunk on friends and wine.

Afterwards the six of us split up into two cabs, and headed over to T&M’s place in Gramercy Park for nightcaps. And what did we fine ladies drink? Little adorable cans of the same bubbly we’d had at dinner. We are impossibly trendy.

We walked all over the place, and ground our feet into a bloody pulp. I was at Ricky’s in the village, standing right smack dab in front of the cooling foot gels and creams and it never occurred to me to get some. What a ninny. I guess that’s why I’ve got the Bliss catalog.

Saturday night, we saw Napoleon Dynamite. I laughed, I cried, I think I’ll buy the DVD when it comes out.

On Sunday T and I grabbed some pastries at a flea/green market on 77th and Columbus, then walked through Central Park. We sat under some giant leafy trees, talked and watched all the people. Later, we called our respective fathers to wish them Happy Father’s Day. My father went on and on about his week—he was in Texas correcting Spanish AP exams, the weather was impossible, the cafeteria food inedible—then my mother hijacked the phone to tell me she’d eaten at a bunch of new restaurants, had been to a Bloomsday celebration, and was busy packing for their summer in the Pyrénées, bringing along all the study books she needs for her Masters test in the fall. Thank god they don’t have a blog. It would be totally megalomaniacal and irritating! A lot like this one!

You know, my parents annoy me to no end, but one thing’s for sure: I don’t have to worry about their brains atrophying or about them becoming vegetables. Those two are very active and have got the social lives of debutantes. Not your typical 70+ yr olds.

After I let them harangue me for 20 minutes, I handed the phone over to Terence so he could call his parents. His mom talked about her sisters then his father got on the phone to tell him what was on tv.

Our parents could not be more different. Thank god they don’t know eachother. Those are two worlds that were never meant to collide.

2:53 p.m. - 2004-06-21

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