Good morning, Texas! That picture is the view from my room at 6 a.m. Texas time, as you can see, this morning is cloudy and cold, we’re also expecting rain. Monday is here and today the horrors of the 360 mirror are upon me. In just a few scant hours I’ll be whisked away to have my wardrobe trashed, with great aplomb I’m sure, I’ll be fitted by the Bra Guru, and shall spend my day in a brand new What Not to Wear Studio.
But of, friends, lets talk about yesterday’s little Newark airport adventure, shall we? After landing in lovely Newark, New Jersey, I found my way to baggage claim, snagged my near empty suitcase and found my way outdoors for two pressing reasons:
A.) I needed a cigarette or seven after spending an ungodly flight sitting in front of three women. Women with voices that could only be described as Edith Bunker. Make that Edith with strep throat and a Georgia accent. They felt it was not only important to talk as loudly as they could, they also felt it was their responsibility to describe everything that was happening on the plane. “Oh! That baby is crying. That baby is upset. Can you hear that baby crying?” Other greatest hits included, “Oh! Do you hear that little dog? That little dog is barking! Oh that dog is upset.” which was often followed by, “Oh! The stewardess is coming with drinks! I see the cart. Oh the stewardess is here! Dear, may I have a Blind Mary? I just love Blind Marys.” One can only assume she meant Bloody Mary.
B.) I had to find the car that was waiting to whisk me away to the W in Union Square. This consisted of wading through somewhere in the neighborhood of 2.6 million people. During the process of looking for the town car with my name on it I did experience myriad of honking horns. This is normal. I’ve lived in New York. What was not normal was: two incidents involving elderly men punching and kicking two separate cars, a fight between a large woman and a tiny male cop, playing witness to a yarmulke argument – which I still am not sure I understand.
I did finally find my driver, a lovely man from the Ukraine, and we shared a lovely, heated argument about torture, the Black Sea and George Bush. Just so you know, in order, I was anti, neutral, anti.
The best part of my day? Eating pizza at Arturo’s. Think pizza orgasm and you might get close. I used to eat there once a week and eating there again last night reminded me: Texas can’t do pizza. But that’s okay, New York can’t do Tex-Mex and it doesn’t know diddley about BBQ.
The worst part of my day? Realizing I only packed flip-flops and they’re calling for 40 degree, rainy weather today and tomorrow. Should’ve packed the Wellies.
I’ll be back later tonight with a fun little feature on your favorite music, and why it may be making you stupid. Until then, wish me luck!
UPDATE: The robe in the W – with it’s gianormous shoulders - makes me look like Joan Crawford. I said NO WIRE HANGERS!!