There'll be smooth sailin' 'cause I'm trimmin' my sails in my top hit and my white tie and my tails

What a 180 I've pulled from this time last week. In the last two days, I have switched residences, gained employment and been able to buy myself a stable full of new clothes in a 48-hour period. All things I simply never could have predicted would be happening by now at the start of the month.

Start with the new place. Aviana graciously helped me move a full cab's worth of my crap to my new digs, which continue to impress and excite me with each passing moment. The fact that my bedroom is legitimately bigger than my dorm is one detail I can never outlook, but having a TV with digital cable, a living room, fully functioning kitchen and a bathroom shared with three people as opposed to 30 are all definite plusses too. And I can finally drink booze in my own room again! To celebrate, I washed down my inagural meal on Friday with a Dos Equis from the Mexican joint down the street.

The rest of Friday was of course spent sharing the incredible news of my sudden employment with friends and family, all of whom were impressed if insanely jealous. Most notably Jason, who was searching for all sorts of vices I could develop from having a well-paying job in New York City.

"Well...you're going to become a drunk because of all the booze you can afford now!" was one.

To which I replied, "But see, I've weaned myself off of alcohol this fall because I wasn't able to afford it for so long, so I really don't see that happening. Plus I've learned that nasty hangovers are sooo not worth it past the age of 22."

"Well, you realize they own you now. Don't be surprised if you have to work on a weekend burning midnight oil!"

"Oh yeah, Jonah mentioned I might have to fly out to like L.A. or San Francisco for a conference some weekend. Which would, you know, suuuck..."

Bragging aside, he was still very proud for me (as I'm sure all my friends are deep down beneath their raging envy) and reassured me that I got the job due to my hard work and journalism skill, etc. etc. And that's the most satisfying part — I came in through the back door as an intern, worked my ass off and got a full-time spot after 2.5 months not because I knew someone or was so-and-so's kid but because I was legitimately qualified and had a demonstrated ability to do the job.

The celebration continued into work at Kidding Around yesterday (which I've decided to not quit till after Christmas, unless it looks like my Christmas visit will be limited to five days or less due to both jobs, in which case it's adios Susan and Uma). I got to leave early, though, because it was time for SATURDAY NIGHT FRIGGIN LIVE!!!!

The event I'd been looking forward to since winning the tickets back in September had finally arrived, and it was nearly overshadowed by my tremendous news from earlier in the week. Luckily Lorne Michaels and Co. pulled out all the stops to ensure that the show stood out in a competitively awesome week.

For starters, being in Studio 8H was a tremendous experience. Seeing all the sets and hearing Lenny Pickett & The Saturday Night Live band play in-person conjured so much nostalgia for me of watching the late-80s, early-90s casts on Comedy Central during my high school days, particularly during the Christmas marathons.

Secondly, it's hard not to feel claustrophobic with the way everything's crammed into such a tight space. Watching the sets change frenetically is stressful enough for me to watch from the audience -- I can't even walk down the marble stairs of my new apartment building without fear of tripping and cracking my skull. Imagine trying to run across the soundstage to your next skit as giant walls are being moved all around you and chairs are being rolled out from every direction.

Then there's the fact that every seat in the house is a good one, just at different times. The skits are held in all corners of the studio, so while your view of the opening monologue may be obscured by, say, a spotlight (as I was), you could also have a front-row seat for a humorous sketch in a Brazilian night club -- or, best of all, TONY mothafuckin' BENNETT! That's right, he was the surprise guest during a "Tony Bennett Show" skit where Alec was doing a dead-on impression and decided to bring out his favorite impersonator, who just happened to be the real guy. Mr. Bennett is in my list of Top 3 People I Need to See Before They Die, along with Eartha Kitt and Woody Allen. Not only did I see him live with Alec Baldwin, I also got to take in a duet between him and Xtina. Seeing him sing "with my top hat and my white tie and my tails" gave me goosebumps. I nearly cried when it was over I was so overjoyed.

Steve Martin (!!!) was also there for a really funny sketch about how Alec was one show away from tying his hosting record. The dress rehearsal was much more natural and funny, but the live taping also had Martin Short and Paul McCartney (!!!), so I missed out on at least one awesome thing, I suppose.

And if you haven't already, go to NBC.com and check out the skit with Amy Poehler as Britney Spears. They may not have coined the phrase, but it was the first time I heard the expression "panty crickets" and I was nearly comatose from laughter.

This is the happiest I've ever been

Let it never be said that dreams don't come true.

In a startling turn of events, I am suddenly moving into a new, huge apartment on the very same day I've been offered a full-time, well-paid job working a newbeat I couldn't be more excited about. I start Monday and am excited, scared and overwhelmed all in one, but confident I have the support of a talented, friendly staff who can occasionally slow down from their machine-like reporting tendencies to help their new baby brother out.

Drinks on me, bitches!

You say it's your birthday...well it's my birthday too

Turning 23 has never been so newsy.

No sooner had I returned from covering the ad:tech conference for 10 grueling hours did all the news start pouring in.

A text from Jason: "[H]ow exciting to share this day with the coronation of Kevin Fed-ex!"

I knew it was coming, but not this soon!!! Halle-lu-jah!

And then, via phone from Pritha (my Internet was down in the dorms): "Strickland and Brown won! Democrats took the house!"

I, like many of my journalist friends, should and would have loved to be parked in front of a TV watching poll results all evening if it weren't for 1.) my lack of TV and 2.) the need to see Borat on Student Tuesday at the Village East for my birthday.

And boy am I happy I made that decision. There is nothing like watching a totally non-PC comedy that a Tiffin crowd wouldn't even know what to do approach with a packed amphitheater full of New York hipsters. They even cheered at the opening credits. The movie was, of course, dead-on in its satire and screamingly funny, if not squirmingly gross at times (seriously...that naked fight scene did NOT need to go on for half as long as it did.) And Pamela Anderson is officially 1,000 times cooler by her mere participation in her big scene.

So then there was today's announcement that Rumsfeld was stepping down. Could my birthday be too good to be true? So much justice prevailed in a 24-hour period I began to feel rather powerful. I need to turn 23 more often!

But the amazing part of my birthday week is that the awesomeness has only just begun. Tomorrow night, for example, I will be attending a Billboard awards ceremony where they will be honoring none other than ELTON JOHN. To even be in the same room as him is a huge deal, regardless of any interview possibilties (which I doubt will even happen.) However, he is being awarded the Live Legend Award for his accomplishments in concert tours, so they jump at any and all opportunities to enhance media coverage. So we shall see...

Most amazing of all, on Friday, I am MOVING!!! It's happening a month early (much to the detriment of my current funds, but the Bank of Mom & Dad have handily stepped in for a short-term loan), but I needed to get out. And once I saw this apartment, I knew I would be dumber than Reese Witherspoon to give up something so beautiful.

Let's start with the bedroom, which in and of itself is bigger than my dorm alone. It comes equipped with queen-size bed (I wanted to jump on it right away), an entertainment center with TV AND a two-seater leather couch that folds out into a bed. Too good to be true? Keep reading...

The rent is $200 LESS than what I'm paying to live in a hole-in-the-wall dorm (which, admittedly, is a heavily inflated price to begin with), the space is smack dab in the middle of Washington Heights (by Columbia Med School) and my four roommates all seem very agreeable. There's even a cat named Grey Charles (it's a she, and she was born without eyeballs...poor sweetie!)

So after spending all of Friday basking in the glow of being a real New Yorker with a real apartment, I will toil at the store for 10 hours before heading over to Studio 8H in Rockefeller Center.

That's right, I am going to a dress rehearsal of Saturday Night Live.

I won the tickets months ago now and never fully realized that the date was the weekend after my birthday, which is why I'm all the more excited about this week. I wanted to keep the host and musical guest a surprise, but after Joey told me the musical guest was a former Mickey Mouse Clubber I had to know. And even better than Justin Timberlake: it's X-Tina!!!

Let it be known to any and all people sitting within a five-foot radius of me on Saturday: you are subject to bruised eyes, noses or other body parts as a result of my excessive finger-waving.

We're never gonna survive unless we get a little crazy

After days of resisting the urge to prematurely unleash our costumes on the general public, Amy and I finally got introduce New York to J.F. Gay and Jackie Ho. Halloween in New York City had finally arrived.



Even though we completely pulled off my original concept of being a warped version of iconic figures, we paled in comparison to the elaborately costumed demons, sluts and board game characters we encountered at the Village parade. Unfazed, I roamed around the various floats and crowds with Amy as she shot any and all interesting costumes that passed by, and what a spectacle that was. The best costumes were the ones that made me go, "How'd they do that?" This is the most sterling example of that:



But after two hours or so of non-stop shooting and crowd-shoving, Amy and I were tuckered out and needed a breather. So we grabbed burgers at the Broome Street Bar and parted ways shortly thereafter because she'd been on autopilot since 7 AM, running errands at work. But the night was still unbearably young — the clock had just struck 10. It was time to meet up with Joey for the gay portion of the evening.

I head over to Chelsea to meet up with him at his friend Steve's apartment. Steve is in fact the 50 (60?)-something friend of Joey's aunt, a retired Broadway actress I have yet to meet but seems absolutely fabulous; the ultimate gay aunt to have around in New York City. To say that Steve was a character is an understatement — he's not just a character, he's a whole friggin' movie.

Witness his remarkably put-together Elvis costume, the vintage drag Judy outfit he found for Joey and his immaculate, horn-clad living room.



Steve is one of few remaindres of the dying breed of gay men (literally — his husband is tragically due to die of cancer any day now...so so sad) from the late 70s heyday who summered in the city and partied at Studio 54 and had crazy, coked-out nights in Hollywood with Halston, Raquel Welch and Truman Capote. He tells stories in such a theatric, Robin Williams-in-Birdcage way that I wouldn't have believed him if he didn't have the photo album (all Polaroids, no less) to prove it. He even dished on one of his celebrity conquests. I won't name names, but let's just say he has a rather key role in a film often associated with midnight showings around Halloween...

So anyway, Steve accompanied me, Joey and Sean out to Avalon in the West Village. The trip there was probably the most fun I had all night. While my Jackie Ho/J.F. Gay combo might have had low impact to the paraders, the cumulative sight of seeing me, Joey as Judy and a middle-aged queen dressed as Elvis was a huge hit with random passers by (nearly all of whom seemed to be tourists, in fact) who stopped to ask us for pictures. Never have I posed for so many strangers' cameras before. Now I know how the real JFK must have felt...

After Steve finagled our way on to the guest list at Avalon (where he and his husband naturally once performed a show back when the venue was still a church.."they had to desanctify it, darling"), he offered us up to the club kids for the rest of the night because "I'm 50 years old [crickets], I don't like sweaty clubs and my husband's about to die any hour. Be safe, kids."

A hilarious yet melancholy note to start an evening of debaucherous dancing, but there was a dramatic shift in tone as soon as we entered the main floor and saw this spectacle:



She's not in this picture, but Amanda Lepore was there, grinding upon a rocking horse to the beat of some truly skanky house music. I said to myself, "You know it's a New York Halloween when you end up at the same club as Amanda Lepore." It's easy to think that this could be the modern equivalent of a Studio 54 or Michael Alig Party Monster bash, or at least a direct replication of all the parties I dreamed of attending during my teenage years after seeing them in the pages of Interview and Paper.

It was an incredible night, definitely one for the memory books. I observed much more than I participated, which was the bulk of why I enjoyed myself so much. I could've been one of the numerous glitter-caked boys in briefs and angel wings at Avalon, but instead I danced my minimal cares away in a dead woman's shirt (thanks Grandma Mitten!) while twirling a truly flamboyant ascot around on my finger. Isn't Halloween grand?