Much fun was had in the former New Amsterdam. No one had nine heads and apparently people you meet on the internet bear a striking resemblance to cool people in Brooklyn.
Do you know the matzah man, the matzah man, the matzah man? Do you know the matzah man, he lives on Rivington Street.
They did not sell new livers at duty free, but they did make me take off my shoes at customs. Both times.
I was in the airport for ages, so I opened up my cd case and there was a roach squirming. I proceeded to emit a muffled scream and try to shake it out. I think that may have qualified as suspicous behaviour. New York needs more Gekkos to eat the roaches.
Last night I got home and Sarah was in town. YAY! She took me for wine at the midtown and now i want to throw up. Holy hangover.
Someone told me that Badam was on the front page of the paper's arts section as one of Toronto's 8 "it" boys. Perhaps that is another reason I want to vomit.
