Kathleen's birthday, St. Andrew's Pub, Theater District.

The kitchen light shines in such a way that whenever I move to cross my legs, it sends a shadow of my foot scurrying across my bed like a small, furry animal. This happens three times in half an hour, and each time it makes me jump.

So I miss the parade...





...but walk along the route a bit on the way to work.

Chris' birthday, Lips, West Village.































Call me old fashioned, but I wouldn't expect a drag restaurant to be so full of teenage girls. Seriously, the place was like a teenage girl clown-car.

Jeni.