Wednesday in a Long Week

At the ASSME (American Society of Shit-Canned Media Elites) fete held at Ella last night, which was organized by Aaron, laid off editors and writers and their sympathizers didn't seem the worse for wear as they downed Pink Slips, made with Pink Vodka and Cranberry juice, and turned in the coats they brought for the coatless. They gathered 75 coats for New York Cares and got free booze for their effort. I met a woman there who danced like a fiend and resembled Botticelli's Venus. I never knew Venus had such moves, but duh, why not?

I almost felt young and free for a minute, until I got home and handed over the wad of cash to our babysitter. The house looked like a bomb had gone off.

Earlier I'd gotten to meet Lola Star of Coney Island Dreamland Roller Rink fame when I walked through Union Square at lunch. Her eyes are as blue as those of the infant of Prague I found in front of St. Josephs, framed by copper ringlets. Super friendly, she was working her booth in the Union Square Holiday Market with another red head with lichen-green eyes, who blushed when I commented that they were drawing quite a crowd with their wares. I admired a T-shirt that read "Everything I know I learned in Brooklyn," as well as the Carl Jung action figure. They reluctantly informed me that he wouldn't give me analysis. Shame!

When I had walked out for lunch along with a sweet woman who described herself as negative, the Empire State Building's top quarter was wrapped in clouds, making it appear as if it were in a bad mood. After lunch the sun was hitting it so directly that I couldn't look straight at it because of all the windows exploding with light. I can imagine how Lola's hair would look if she'd been up there then, perhaps coaxing Kong down.

By the way, thanks to Louise Crawford for including Brooklynometry in her "Park Slope 100" this year. I can think of many many who I'd put in the slot if it were up to me. Still it's kind of a cool thing to have this thing I do for fun included in a list also bearing the name Barack Obama and so many other rather extraordinary people. Given that my mantra was once "No I can't, f*ck you!" it's more than a little surprising.