Weird things have been happening in the building next door.

Some sort of party that they didn’t invite us to. How rude.

Luckily, Jenna and I did get invited to a different party.

At a fun little apartment in the sky.

The invite came from one Rob Ryang, who had ulterior motives.

With molly’s help.

And his ingenious cunning.

I was transformed.

Into a polemaster Jones.

Actually, Jenna and I were both transformed.

Can you tell what we are?

Can you tell how much fun it is to ham it up?

We really couldn’t stop.

We were just raving fools.

Doused with ex and jumping like wankers.

You should try it sometime.

It’s quite fun.

So why were we all dressed up like lit idiots?

Well for Rob’s special directorial project.

He was asked by the WSJ to do a parody political viral video, and you can check it out and our wonderful performance in it right here.
 

Thanks rob. Happy New Year!

October can only mean one thing for New York snobs: The New Yorker Festival.

Two years ago I had a fantastic time listening to some of my favorite authors. Last year, I wasn’t paying the best attention, and missed the ticket sales opening by one day, cursing myself for weeks.

But this year, thankfully, Jenna and I set our clocks to get into a reading by Jonathan Safran Foer (if you haven’t read Everything Is Illuminated, you probably should). He read an amazing short story about family that needed slides to be fully captured, so we could see new symbols he used and defined. It was awesome.

He was followed by Edward P. Jones, who I have not read, but whose lilting magical realism prose strung a good yarn.

During the question and answer session, I pussied out of a question.

Then couldn’t get a picture cause JSF got mobbed by the snob groupies.

For most, that would have been a full evening in itself, but Jenna and I pushed ahead to Stephanie’s birthday party.

It seemed like everyone made it out.

J doggy dogg™

Nicole and boyfriend Doug.

Sarra and the Cess.

Even people who no longer worked at the old PS dropped in, like Tom and Eric.

And the old PPS Emily with her friend whose name I don’t remember.

Even some clients came along.

Of course, we had to strike a pose. En vouge at all times, baby.

Steph, a classical film photographer sported a very cool 80s Polaroid.

Which might have given us the pic of the night.

Conversations were had.

People stood on chairs, and all was well.

Happy Birthday, Steph.

This might have been a very full evening for most, but it did not end for my lady and me. We walked by a blurry movie shoot.

And some lit outdoor furniture.

To make it into a party perfect for me: a moustache fest!

People were encouraged to bring fake ones if they couldn’t hack it.

It was fun to out do everyone, but we only new the Mad-villan, so we finally called it a night.

On Saturday, between working hard on a project I will talk more about later, Jenna and I hit a Fake News Panel.

The head editor of The Onion, the Exec Producer of the Daily Show and Colbert Report, and Andy Borowitz regaled us with erudite opinion and witty comebacks.

At night, free drinks started our next event.

Which were very tasty. Thanks corporate sponsors!

You allowed us to enjoy the very funny interview and clip show of Steve Coogan.

The best part of the show came when Steve went through several impressions of different celebrities. God he was good.

For our final event on Sunday, Jenna and I went out with a bang: Interview with John Stuart.

He was everything you’d want him to be: smart and hilarious.

What a wonderful New Yorker Festival weekend. See you next year, snobs.

It was the best of times, it was the so-so of times, it was the 29th of September times, and it was the diner times. Yes siree, Charlotte and Becky were throwing a little eating shindig.

At char’s swanky Dumbo establishment.

I hadn’t been there in a while, so I wasn’t privy to the reconstruction. Like this elevated bed.

Or the step up chilling couches.

The secret fashion creation tent.

The dope paintings.

Or the remodeled other room.

Char was busy cooking up the good stuff.

Zuchini lasagna.

And some cheese and crackers appetizers.

The C-Spot’s man came home.

As did this lovely lady who I met at a previous Becky diner, and whose name I now, regrettably, forget.

As people partied down with wine, I sampled this delectable potable, probably some of the best ginger ale I have ever had.

More guests began arriving.

And then even more.

Whiskers didn’t appreciate it too much with his grouchy attitude.

But even he had to admit that it was a beautifully set table.

So we began to eat.

And wine.

And talk.

And quip.

And quote.

Digitelle made it in.

To look rough and gruff for just a bit before heading out.

Then the cup cakes had their time to shine.

And we all basked in their presence.

Some people had to bid their adieus.

And some stayed to sing along with bad eighty’s tunes.

Others went with the classic party pass out.
 

Including the kitties. Thank you for the wonderful space and food, Char.

In the end, we all had to leave at some point.

Including fellow co host Becksters. Thanks for the invite.

Well, it was Thursday, and the third concert of the week finally came. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah at central park.  Pretty dope.

Architecture in Helsinki opened for them, and they were pretty good.

Rob and Molly made it out as well, and Jenna found Jennifer with much excitement.

Then we pushed ourselves to front of the show.

Got a bit blurry.

Then corrected it all.

Then the weird Pennsylvania crooner came out.

We all clapped and said yeah.

To some dulcet tones.

Except Jenna, after being spoiled by other better concerts, thought they were only so so.

I liked the roof.

And thought the band played pretty well.

The night ended with the incredible surprise of new boxers from my girl. Thanks, babe.

Thus ends the incredible concert week.