Grrr.... Boston. I used to think I had good Boston karma, as I interviewed for my current job in this fine city, and by "interview" I mean drank beers, watched the Sox win the World Series, emerged from Joe's Pub triumphant (and like, I don't care about the Sox), trekked to Fenway in stilettos, ducked into a Mexican restaurant to avoid would-be exuberant rioters, and drank margaritas til 2 AM. The next morning, I actually had to buy fancy sneakers at a local boutique, as I was completely hobbled from the walk. But I got that job, yo.
And that job has brought me once again to Beantown, as they say, and I am cranky. Lugging my bags from South Station to my fancy hotel this afternoon, I got the distinct feeling that people were just milling about, with no fucking sense of purpose. Stark contrast to New York, where you can be mowed down by a biker or a businessman on a mission at any given moment. I have been trying to be effective and get some work done before an event tonight, but really I keep tapping into the minibar (just the popcorn and soda, y'all, at least until 5 PM) and popping the large pimple on the left side of my chin (yes: pop, apply antibacterial ointment, repeat). Ugh.
And so it is 4 PM, and since I have been awake and on the move since 5:20, I have surrendered to Oprah (20th anniversary DVD - eeeeee!!!) and the overwhelming desire to blog and share. Did I tell you that my darling sis came to visit this weekend? Lovely Cat, J, and I traipsed around Manhattan, from Central Park to Radio City to Tiffany's (eeeee!). We said goodbye to J when we reached Times Square and the theater; we saw Beauty and the Beast and I became characteristically overstimulated and sang songs throughout intermission. Cat says the kid next to me stared as if I was crazy the entire time. Naturally.
The next morning, J and I gave C the tour of downtown Manhattan. She was silent throughout; I suppose Wall Street is not very exciting when you're twelve. She finally spoke again when we emerged from the Holland Tunnel.
"OH NO!" She cried.
"What's wrong, Cat?"
"We're in Jersey. (Sigh.)"
I suppose I should make myself presentable and figure out where the hell I'm supposed to be tonight. Ah, the life of an international pop icon.