Correction

So, Ohio Andrew and New York Andrew can both find a bit of solace from this e-mail I got from the Gawker guy today:

hey, sorry we got cut off -- was there anything else you needed to know?

He didn't hang up on me after all. I do recall the connection being a bit iffy, so I suppose I'm not surprised by this late-blooming excuse. It was just a bit ironic for that to happen just as I got to talking about lawsuits following a litany of his curt, miffed responses to my questions.

So, he's off the hook for now. But just wait Google, YouTube and Digg...I defy you to hang up on me!

Hey, j-j-jaded

The truly unique events of the past 24 hours could be described from two perspectives: the jaded, seen-it-all New Yorker or the wide-eyed, dumbfounded Midwesterner that I very much still am despite all efforts to the contrary. Therefore, I shall write from both P.O.V.s for today's blog post.

1.) The concert
New York Andrew: So, this flack totally calls my office phone on Wednesday and tells me Ken recommended he talk to me about this party Paste Magazine is putting on at the Knitting Factory and that Beck may be there. I say, cool, whatever, I like Beck and all. It'd be neat to see him at a venue that small, but no worries if he didn't. I got tickets to that sweet Daily Show concert with Mountain Goats and Clem Snide at Irving Plaza next month that would make up for it. So, I mean, I go and hit up the open bar with Amy, check out Hem's opening set and jump up and down a little bit for Beck. I mean, he played "Devil's Haircut" and some cuts off the new album, so it was pretty good, I guess. But it's not like it was Patti Smith at the fuckin' CBGB's closing show or anything. And blah blah, James Iha was there and Ben Kweller walked right by me. I interviewed him once no big woop..

Ohio Andrew: Holy shit, I saw a secret Beck show!!! And it was legitimately secret -- Brooklyn Vegan, Rolling Stone, NO ONE knew about it beforehand! Even Paste was surprised -- they were told Beck was going to play a half-hour acoustic set and he ended up playing an hour-long, funkdafied electric set!! It was tremendous — he opened with "Black Tambourine" (one of the best possible songs in his oeuvre to open with) and after just three songs started taking requests. I screamed out "Devil's Haircut," knowing it would be incredible to hear in such a small venue, and what does he do? He plays it!!! The famous riff sounded wayyy better blaring from such small speakers. The main room is the size of my old living room at Sunnybrook! In-fuckin-credible. He also played "Girl," "E-Pro" and of course "Where It's At," plus half the new album, which I bought immediately afterward. Easily one of the best shows I've ever seen, let alone this year. I wanted to hug the editors of Paste on my way out. And oh my God I saw James Iha!!!! Regardless that he doens't do anything these days except go to shows, he's still a Smashing Pumpkin.

2. The good interview
New York Andrew: So this morning I went over to Trump Tower to cover this game show taping for AOL's "Gold Rush," which was being guest-hosted by Donald Trump. I mean, whatever, it's New York, I was bound to cover him sooner or later. So he asks the contestants a few questions that involve his name, me and this other reporter laugh a little bit, the publicist invites us backstage to do our interviews, I tell him I'm from AdAge, he pats me on the back and answers a few questions really diplomatically. Nothing big, definitely no great quotes. If he wasn't Donald Trump it wouldn't have been even half as big a deal as any other interview I do with Important People. And I totally should've tugged his hairpiece.

Ohio Andrew: You know you're a New York journalist when you interview Donald Trump at Trump Tower! It was pretty friggin' cool...me and two other reporters (one from MeidaPost, the other from some agency, I dunno) took turns asking The Donald a few questions, and I started. He patted me on the back when I told him I was from AdAge and evne tailored his repsonse to my question to AdAge by playing up the corporate sponsorships. It was pretty sweet. He even ended the interview by saying he doens't have time to spend on the Internet because he's "too busy trying to make money." He had bad breath, though. All the money in the world can't cure halitosis, I suppose.

3. The bad interview
New York Andrew: So I volunteered to do this new-media mogul feature Ken pitched but no one took. I mean it's not like I had all that much going on after getting two stories for the book in the can, anyway, so I figured it was the least I could do. Ken sends me a list of people he'd like me to contact, and the first ones I try are Facebook, who blow me off by saying Mark Zuckerberg "isn't really doing interviews right now." I figure, whatever, I can get someone way cooler for this piece anyway. So I e-mail the publisher of Gawker to see if he'd be interested in speaking to me, he agrees to talk under the condition I don't ask him about his temporary partnership with Yahoo that fizzled out last year. I don't, but I ask him a few other questions he presumably gets asked freuqently because — why the fuck not? I have him on the phone, so who wouldn't ask the same questions like when he might sell his web site if it means I could be the reporter who finally gets the scoop? Eventually, once I get around to asking him about potential lawsuits, I realize I'm talking to a dead line. He hung up on me. Whatever — I still got MySpace, Flickr and Digg, among many many others, to pursue...Who needs Gawker?

Ohio Andrew: The bastard hung up on me!!! I don't care how many times you've been asked a question by the media (which, honestly, can't be *that* many...it's not like it's Carly Simon and I'm asking her who "You're So Vain" is about), you don't hang up on a reporter who just wants to get a few quotes for a story that isn't about you, anyway. Ugggghhhh...Ken told me to make sure to include in the article that he hung up on me, which I most certainly will. What's funny is I had read this article in Slate (http://www.slate.com/id/2145413/) *before* speaking with him, and I was still feeling fairly confident about my chances of having a pretty breezy interview. That's a definite no.

But no matter, I have been very schooled since yesterday in many ways of New York culture: what to expect at a "secret show," how to interview The Donald and what not to ask a notoriously difficult source. If only I were being tested on this for Technical Writing this weekend, I'd for sure be looking at an A come Monday...

I got to admit it's gettin' better, gettin' better all the time...

There have been many days these past two months (most, in fact) where I have to literally stop and wonder if my life is real. Today was definitely one of them.

In perhaps one of the most successful weeks in the history of employment, I received two job offers in two days. One was from Kidding Around, the toy store I interviewed at last month but didn't get because I wasn't available enough. The other...well, I'll hold off on posting here until the details have all been ironed out, but once they are it'll be HUGE and my excitement will no longer be contained (it barely is now haha.)

So today was my first day at the toy store and it was quite the surreal one. First of all, any chances of it being similar to my summer at Mr. Fun's last year were immediately vanquished when I showed up to work and FIVE other people were there. To work at a store roughly the same size as Mr. Fun's, mind you. But then again, Mr. Fun's was in a plaza between a Fashion Bug and a Rite Aid in Kent, and Kidding Around is in a nice part of Chelsea frequented by rich people, rich children and celebrities. Lots of them, judging by stories my co-workers were telling me today.

"Yeah, Harrison Ford comes in a lot, Calista Flockhart will sometimes come too," my boss' son said. "Molly Shannon always brings her daughter when she comes, Brooke Sheilds was just in the other day and said she liked my window decoration. Susan Sarandon actually used to be a regular and her daugher even worked here for a little bit."

"Really?" I said, my long-dormat starfucker hormones suddenly stimulated. "Before she became an actress?"

"Yeah, it was for like a year or so. She and my sister are actually pretty good friends."

I was impressed by all these tales, but I hardly expected to have one of my own to tell that day. Until...

It's 2:30, I'm reorganizing the princess hats or the magic wands or something in the costume section when all of a sudden I hear a woman's voice call, "Levon! Come look at this!"

I think, "Levon?! There must be a celebrity in our midst because who names their k--"

And that's when I saw her, looking impeccable in a white pea coat, the very epitome of what you always think a gorgeous actress would look like on her day off.

There, walking toward me, was Uma Thurman.

As Jason said, it was like a really rare wildlife sighting. Like seeing a gazelle/leopard cross-breed and not knowing whether or not to grab for the nearest camera or just stare in awe for a few moments.

I chose the latter, but from a distance. As soon as I saw her, a sudden shock went through me of both recognition and embarrassment (only for not being equally fabulous..despite wearing a nice sweater and my new ass-tastic jeans, I could not hold a candle to La Thurman) and retreated nearby to the trains. As for Uma, she made no effort to remain incognito (aside from a rather dorky ski lodge hat she later donned halfway through her half-hour stay), and conversed playfully and quite loudly with her adorable blonde son, who she called "Levi."

I kept myself occupied for the most part, but I picked up on bits of pieces of her numerous cell phone convesations (including a very touching one with her daugher Mya) and realized how utterly surreal it is to see a celebrity just being a normal mom. Especially one who killed tons of bitches in two Quentin Tarantino movies just a few years back. (She was also in "My Super Ex-Girlfriend" this summer, which a cursory glance at my ticket stubs reminded me today. What a waste of celluloid that was.)

After a good 25 minutes of successfully staying out of Lady Uma's way, I finally had a reason to intrude. There were some stray toys on the ground near where she was perusing games and I went to reorganize them.

This is where the wildlife comparison comes back into play, because it was like disturbing the (very glamorous) lioness and her cub. Seeing me kneel down, Uma walks over, waves her hand apologetically and says sweetly, "Oh, sorry, I'll take care of those. I don't wanna make you do that."

"OK, no worries," I said with a sheepish smile as my internal voice shouts "YOU JUST EXCHANGED WORDS WITH BEATRIX KIDDO!!!")

And that was that. No autograph hounding, no shameless kudos for one of her many fabulous performances (even though I really wanted to tell her how much I loved "Prime"), not even a ham-fisted attempt to suck up to her kid and ask him what toys he was looking for. I just walked away and let that be that.

It took me a hot minute to calm down after my moment of recognition from who is without question the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in person. I would have just sat and basked in my day of incredulity, but alas, I had another pretty lady to go see. Specifically, Esquire's Sexiest Woman Alive Scarlett Johansson (a prediction I made back in JULY, thank you!) in The Prestige. First The Illusionist, now this -- why haven't there been more magician-related thrillers up till now?!? Both of which happen to be excellent, The Prestige in particular. And a bit spooky — I was a lil' nervous Christian Bale was going to send his creepy doppelganger after me to spy on my journalism tricks or something.

Speaking of which, it's going to take magic for me to get through the next two months (and probably longer) of working EVERY SINGLE DAY of the week now, with Kidding Around on weekends. The way I look at it is this: both jobs don't (have to) last past 7, which is more than ample nightlife time, and therefore more time spent making money to blow on said nights.

It's a win-win, if you ask me. Even Uma would agree.

Kent get enough of you, baby

I'm afraid Mr. Thornton might have outblogged me before I've even begun to recap the insanity that was Friday night. However, I shall do my best to summarize my Kent comeback to the best of my wit's ability.

Upon arrival in the Tree City, I called up Jackie and surprised her with my early presence. She wasstill clad in her football gear from the Media Bowl and gave me a great big bear hug. It's always good to see your Facebook wife after two months of no contact. She and Carrie hopped in my car and I did something I haven't done since February: I knowingly furnished minors! Knowing full well, of course, that even if the cops did show up this time, however, I could get away Scott-free because I don't live on Sunnybrook Road no more. Let the head smashing begin, I say.

Next was a big reunion dinner at Taco Tanto's, which kicked off with Kelly jumping into my arms unexpectedly and the two of us tumbling onto the floor within eyeshot of Lindsay, Ryan and Jeff. My knee's better, by the way, Kelly!

Erin Roof was randomly there. We swapped big-city stories and I parted ways by offering up my sympathy for one last semester with the Robot.

Dinner in general was a very happy time. I had greatly missed everyone at that table ....even if I had just seen two of them just weeks prior in my new city .. and being back together at Taco Tanto's was a pleasant blast from the past. The pizzaritos are also just as amazing as I had remembered them, if not more so.

I also noticed that TIlly & The Wall were playing at the Grog Shop that night, EXACTLY like my last visit to Kent in June. For a few seconds I pondered driving to Cleveland to check it out, but those were the briefest seconds in the history of time.

Visited with Barb for a good hour or so, and shamelessly whipped out my Ad Age cover story. Apparently Fran Collins (!) brought it to her attention before I could even tell her I made the cover. Aww Fran, I knew I liked her...Barb and I dished New York, Ohio politics and graduation strategies (I have an even better one now!) over blueberry beer. Mmmm...

By the time I get to the old apartment the driveway is already full by 10 (a common occurence). So I set out on the familiarly terrifying trip that is the pitch-black walk from the neighbors with the shooting range back to the apartment. There was a fucking cat meowing the whole time that made me want to clobber the next moving thing with my 12 pack of Bud out of extreme fear, but luckily I never had a reason to.

I opened the door to the sounds of Le Tigre or The Rapture or something indie and pretentious and it was like being home again. A total time capsule trip. There was Ben and co. kicking things off with a game of Kings, Ryan and Lindsay cuddling on the couch, Gavin and Jackie beginning a night of on-and-off making out, with a few new twists added to the proceedings.

It was both sad and exciting to hear that the soiree was the first real dance party since my departure. Don't get me wrong, I was proud to usher in the return of the Sunnybrook Road dance-offs. But am I really that lively that parties just die in my absence? Ah, I am sunlight and the rest of you Stater partiers are just wilting perennials...

I made my first moves to the tune of "SexyBack," fittingly, with Carrie and Jackie as my dance partners. More dancing ensued, but just enough to entice other people to keep it going while I made the rounds of hugs and reunions. I was most excited to see Rachel, Meranda, Sean, Kali, Lindsay and Jeff again, with plenty of other little surprises thrown in. I even manged to entice Jessica Smiley, Katie Alberti, proofreader Amy and Brian Thornton to attend their very first Stater party!

There was a bit of apple bobbing, but the combination of the wetness and Gavin removing half the apples with his mouth kind of killed that. There's no topping last year's bob-a-thon anyway.

It was around this time that I realized the gay quotient at this party was the highest it's ever been. Perhaps the highest of all parties combined, in fact. Very, very impressive. I know I won't be back any time soon, but keep up the good work, ladies and gents!

By midnight I realized I was not drunk at all after three sporadilcally consumed beers and decided to make up for lost time. Worst decision EVER. Were New York not so expensive that I could actually afford to drink this fall, I would have remebered the cardinal rule in college binge drinking: "Beer before liquor, you couldn't be sicker." Truer words have never been slurred.

Oh I got drunk all right, but I paid for it big time. Almost instantly. No sooner had I downed a few rum and ciders did I feel a little funny and went running to the bushes outside (a Sunnybrook first for me, if you can believe it.) I can't even tell you how many times I had to do this because after the first one is when I don't remember anything. Apparently I said my good-byes to Lindsay covered in vomit and dirt with twigs in my hair. Classy. Where the fuck was a camera when this happened?!

I ended the night in Ben's pajamas (strangely, I do remember taking my clothes off in front of Ben and Kelly...weird) and without any blankets. But unconscious people don't get cold, so when I came to at 8:30 I just stole Kali's.

11:00 slowly rolled around, and Jackie and Ben emerged from their drunken hazes and we all slogged over to Wild Goat for a commemorative brunch and some much-needed nourishment. I couldn't even drive yet I was still fucked up. It took me the rest of the day to relieve my hangover. My dad even made Long Islands later that night and the mere mention of alcohol turned my insides a lil' bit.

All in all, my Kent return was a huge success. I saw everyone I could have possibly wanted to see (and nobody I didn't, best of all!), had the sloppiest attempt at a bathroom hookup ever and ended up making a drunken fool of myself.

It wouldn't be a Sunnybrook Road party if any of things hadn't happened.

What I've accomplished in 12 hours' worth of procrastination

While my Technical Writing essay is still not complete as of this writing, I sure learned a lot of other things today. Here's a sample:

--My IMDB browsing taught me that Jennifer Love Hewitt is huge in South Korea. While her romantic comedy "If Only" went straight-to-DVD here in the States, it set a box office record among South Koreans, who apparently can't get enough of the onetime Jennifer Love Fefferman (remember her guets spot on Boy Meets World?!?)
--The Kent College Dems attracted a crowd of 500 people to its Sherrod Brown event yesterday, including special celeb guests Adam Brody and Luke Perry. Upon seeing Luke Perry's attendance on Wednesday I instantly Facebooked Kali to inform her that it is her duty as politics reporter to make Monday's front page story "Luke Perry is gay" a la "Family Guy." If only it were Adam West running for Ohio Senate and not Sherrod Brown it would have been a near-perfect recreation!
--"The Departed" kicked the Texas Chainsaw killer's ass this weekend at the box office, and rightfully so. That movie was damn good. Any movie with Matt Damon in a starring role is always a must-see on my list (and not just for the obvious reasons — he really is a tremendous actor), and Jack Nicholson hammed it up just enough for me to still appreciate his performance. Best of all, perhaps, was Mark Wahlberg, who puts into place everyone who's on screen with him. Which is saying something given his boffo list of co-stars.
--My Chase account is freezing $200+ of my money, which is both a relief (I thought I really had spent all but $20 of my paycheck yesterday...see what not balancing my checkbook gets me?) and an extreme frustration. I'm gonna neeed money this coming week since events this weekend will prevent me from getting my paycheck on Friday.
--I need a sugar daddy. Joey found a rather nice one who has an in-fucking-credible apartment in Tribeca that overlooks the entire city, Hudson River and New Jersey. His living room is the most tremendous panoramic view I've seen of New York yet, and that's saying something. That's what dating a Wall Street banker will get you, though.
--Joey's creativity never ceases to surprise me. Tonight, in honor of the Flavor of Love recap episode, he made us all individual candy clocks out of Skittles, licorice, Jolly Ranchers and Eclipse gum. They really were so good you could eat them. Joey's bf also kept the martinis pouring, first a Malibu/pineapple mixture (delish), followed by a vodka/melon/cranberry hybrid that was part Cosmo/part autumn-tini. Abby summed it up when she said, "I feel just like Carrie now.":

All in all, a fabulous weekend, but none of the above events or writing this here entry is going to finish my essay. Rats. Back to the homework...

The best things in life are $5

So how do I even begin to sum up the experience that was "The Dave Hill Explosion" at the UCB last night? Normally, I would just say, "two words: Sandra Bernhard." But I wouldn't want to do anything to discredit the awesomeness of Mr. Hill himself.

I could add two more words, "Rufus Wainwright," but he didn't really do anything to contribute to the overall greatness of the show. He was just there, and spotting him in the crowd put a big ol' smile on my face that didn't leave for the rest of the show, particularly because I was laughing so hard.

So let me go back a bit: the Dave Hill Explosion is a monthly improv talk show of sorts put on by one Dave Hill, a Daily Show-meets-Ali G. type with a kitchen cabinet of delicious web shorts on his official site (davehillonline.com) and an impeccable ability to book New York's finest and gayest as his celeb guests.

The theme song alone was worth the unspeakable bargain-priced admission ($5). He started out just speak-singing his name, then an electric guitar kicked in, which then prompted him to pogo across different parts of the stage and jerk his body into weird contortions at random moments.

Then, without warning, a bubble gan goes off, a chiuaua runs out on stage, Dave's shirt magically disappears and the music goes from shrieky electric guitars to "Hips Don't Lie." Genius, I tell you, genius!

To top things off, Little Michael Jackson then comes out to the sounds of "Beat It" and does a whole dance routine while Dave composes himself hilariously in the background. I was wondering if anyone else would find the humor in one of New York's oddest subway attractions, but leave it to Dave Hill to discover who's on N.Y. entertainment's short list (pun intended.)

The rest of the show continued in the opening's random footsteps, particularly throughout the entirety of Sandra Bernhard's appearance. The unflaggable star of stage and screen (which she rarely gets hired for these days -- shame on you, Hollywood!) was the very definition of off-the-cuff. She informed the audience that the zipper of her specially tailored suit would cost $2,200 to fix, made liberal use of the "n" word in reference to Star Jones (defending it by saying she came of age in Arizona...) and did a totally wild interpretive dance when Dave Hill improvised a song about her and her crazy life in showbiz.

The musical guest for the evening was Joan as Police Woman, who I saw two years ago when she opened for Rufus in Cleveland. Dave had a piano set up for her with a mirror facing her ("it was Rufus's idea!" she insisted) but it was too weird for her to go through with it. Joan was significantly less candid than Sandy, but just as fabulous. She's playing a show on Tuesday at Tonic that my new work buddy Dan the copy editor and I might check out...

All in all, last night's show was the epitome of what I love about this city and all its opportunities. I mean, where else do you find yourself -- as I did -- following Rufus Wainwright in a crocodile hat walking unaccompanied down the street for two blocks on the way to your subway stop? Lord knows that shit just doesn't happen in Ohio...

Poli-tickle me Homo

Since I'm technically at work right now, I really shouldn't be watching all 50 minutes of last night's Meet The Press debate between Mike DeWine and Sherrod Brown. However, there sure are some interesting things going down politically lately, huh?

This Sen. Foley thing is all kinds of creepy, not to mention sad from a gay perspective. Why do all the gay politicians gotta be corrupt about their sexuality? Don't get me wrong, I appreciated all the Jim McGreevey hoopla for all of its salaciousness, despite the bottom line that his affair with one of his advisers was despicable from both a political standpoint (giving someone you're crushing on job preference for something as pivotal as homeland security is a huuuge conflict of interest) and, of course, marital. Although his wife seemed creepily loyal and undeterred throughout the scandal and fallout.

Still, mad props are due to McGreevey for turning his negatives into a huge positive by being the first opnely gay U.S. governor and in a much happier, committed relationship on the cover of The Advocate. It's just sad to see the path it took for him to get to that point.

Mark Foley could have had the same chance to make a big statement for gay politicians, too...if he wasn't such a creepy, perverted Republican hypocrite. I applaud the press for pointing out the largest irony of his page-seduction scandal: that the touchstones of his political career were all about cracking down on child predators.

However, while Foley's foibles certainly don't do much to help the gay-marriage-as-divisive-issue problem, they could potentially bring light to the fact that homosexuality transcends political parties. The supposedly righteous Republicans gotta be blushing big time that someone on their team just blew their cover over the weekend. Should be interesting to see how this scandal affects voting habits over the next month for the midterm election. Which, interestingly enough, falls on my birthday this year.

I am adamant in my belief that my birthday will not be happy unless Strickland is crowned governor (and wins for Brown and Brunner would be great, too.) Turning 23 in New York will be great and all, but unless my home staters get their shit together, all will not be well in the 92nd St. Y on that day.

Now it can be told

I crammed a month's worth of awesomeness into the last seven days. Here's a very cursory summary of all that transpired over the past three:

Friday: The last day of Advertising Week. I was both relieved and sad to watch it end. The whole thing was a bit of a spectacle, and it sure was nice to not worry about grabbing breakfast or lunch on my own if I was covering anything between the hours of 9 and 2. But my last two events helped me go out with a bang: a three-hour presentation of ad campaigns from high school students around the NYC area (impressive stuff by all, even if some blended into the others) and the Advertising Icons parade. The parade itself was fairly interesting (I mean, it was in Times Square after all), but seeing all the icons backstage at the Hard Rock with their heads off really sealed it for me. How many people can say they've spoken to a headless Chester the Cheetah, the AOL Running Man and the guy who plays Col. Sanders in a 5-minute period? Sooo weird...

My cover story ended up getting pushed back a week because the photo was, in the words of Susie the awesome photo editor, "too much 'Saved by the Bell' and not enough 'Rolling Stone.'" I agreed, even though I was a little bummed to wait an extra week for my cover debut. I was comforted by the fact, however, that I am now the second-ever intern to have a story run on the cover. And the first one has been employed by them ever since, which is certainly a good sign... I got wind of a work-related rumor on my way out, and though it made me very happy, I'm too superstitious to discuss it here.

Finished the night by taking Amy to dinner at Serendipity (only the famous frozen hot chocolate is worth their extravagant prices, and even that's really pushing it at $8.50) and grabbing a nice German beer at a bar by my place called Heidelberg. Made me think of, but not miss, Tiffin. Crashed on Amy's air mattress in her ginormous Brooklyn loft so I could explore Williamsburg with her.

Saturday: Had an incredible burger at Teddy's on Lorimer that filled me up the rest of the day and window-shopped around W-burg with Amy for a few hours. Loved the mix of industry and urban culture and decided I am totally singling that out when I start looking for apartments in the coming weeks (that's right, I'm sticking things out past December.) Had to take a bus and two trains back home because the L was down for the weekend for a "police investigation" and trucked over to the 1,2&3 Cinemas to see "The Queen" with Joey. The longest line I've ever witness for a movie — in Kent terms, it was like waiting all the way back at Giant Eagle to see "Scary Movie 4" or something. Luckily, it was worth the wait, and Helen Mirren was just as fabulous as the critics made her out to be. If not more so. Makes me want to watch footage of the real one now.

The best part of the weekend: rushing out of the movie to Times Square to return to Town Hall for another concert, which came up at the last-minute: SUFJAN STEVENS!!! Morgan Phillips randomly e-mailed me on Friday to say her friend Amy had an extra ticket to see him while she was in NY, which couldn't have been more vague. Who was this Amy person and what night was the show? (He played all weekend.) Nevertheless I arranged for Amy to have the ticket waiting for me at the box office, which I arrived at just in time to make the end of Sufjan's first song. And what a surreal thing to walk into. Sufjan and his 14-piece band (folkestra?) were all decked out in forest ranger-esque uniforms with eagle wings and feather headresses, with bright purple streamers framing a video screen that played footage of Sufjan and the band throughout the set. His songs sounded downright hymnal in a live setting, and Sufjan himself is way dreamier in person. I'll admit I imagined he was singing "To Be Alone With You" to me the whole time. Absolutely fantastic. Amy and I ended up hitting it off, too, and grabbed food and raspberry cocktails at Yaffa Cafe in St. Mark's.

Just when I thought my night was over, my drunk friend Kate calls me to say she's heading to a bar in midtown, specifically rigiht next to my work on 44th and 3rd, so I find myself hopping back on the subway to meet up with lovely self at a bar I didn't even know existed called Overlook. Met her two awesome friends, including one guy who may become the topic of a freelance story. Stay tuned on that one..

Sunday: Slept in till 1 and hung around the room doing laundry and reflecting on the amazing week till finally leaving the dorm to see UCB on a whim. Made the free ticket cutoff by 8 people and saw the best UCB show yet: Amy Poehler was finally there (YESSS!!!), in addition to Seth Myers, Dan Bakkedahl from "The Daily Show" again, this cute blonde dude from "Talladega Nights" and "30 Rock" and Paul Scheer, who stole the show. He's the bald-headed, gap-toothed dude from "Best Week Ever" who always says the most ridiculous things and makes them hysterical. Tonight was no exception.

All in all, a totally surreal week full of crazy occurrences (did I mention I totally interviewed Howie Mandel on Thursday and threw off his OCD?) that confirmed why I wanted to come here in the first place and why I should definitely not leave after Christmas. Hallelujah!