My Glambertless Weekend

Since the celebutards are still MIA, you all get to hear about the life and times of me. Oh, stop whining. Just pop a No-Doz and read on.

Friday night, I went out with my roommate, The Missus, to a little, tucked-away Italian bar/restaurant (technically in Chinatown), where Rudy Giuliani may or may not have been hanging out. The Missus claims it was him even though she only saw the back of his head, but I did hear other people in the bar muttering stuff about Giuliani, so I suppose it really could have been. The bartender, who was very effective at getting us completely blasted, gave us a shot "on Rudy." So, although I don't know where the whole truth lies in all of this, I'm just going to say that Rudy Giuliani bought me a shot because it sounds good.

On Saturday, I was to meet both roommates, The Missus and The Mister, along with some other friends over on Governor's Island for a polo match. I was pretty excited about this because A) I'd never been to Governor's Island or a polo match, B) it was sponsored by Veuve Clicquot, so I figured the champagne would be flowing like water, and C) Prince Harry was going to be there, and I've never seen a royal close-up. I also thought it would be a good opportunity to go rich husband hunting.

However, when I got over to the ferry, I was told that I'd have to wait for the next one even though there was a boat still in the dock and it hadn't left yet. Then, about 10 minutes later, some suit informed us that there might not be any harbor activity until 5:00 because the President was going to be landing on the helipad. But of course, they didn't know exactly when. Everyone was annoyed until about 10 more minutes later, when we were told we could board the ferry. So, everyone got on, the boat revved up, we backed up, pulled back in, backed up again, only to pull back in and stay there. Some dude came up and told us that we now had to all get off the boat because now Obama really was about to land and this time they really mean it. Ugh. So, after many calls back and forth to my friends, they just decided to come over and meet me (the polo match was already over) at the seaport. I figured that if Obama was going to ruin my day, I might at least get to see him, but when his giant military chopper started swooping in, the cops kept yelling at all the gawkers to go this way, go that way, don't look directly at the helicopter, yadda yadda, so I was just like Screw you, President Day-Ruiner, and stormed off to South Street.

And now I find out that my day got ruined all in the name of Barry and Michelle's date night. How nice. I'm so glad they had a good time. But it doesn't get me any closer to having that rich husband.

Saturday evening was much better, though. A big group of us went to see Up, which I can't recommend enough. What a fantastic movie. But don't be fooled by the cute/funny trailers. While a lot of the film is really funny, I was completely unprepared for how sad, sweet, and touching much of it was. I cried like a baby. More than once. So, if you go, take some Kleenex.

I also finally got to eat at the famous Carnegie Deli. It was pretty good, but wow is it overpriced. I mean, a brisket sandwich for $18? I just kept wanting to scream, IT'S A DELI, PEOPLE!

So, great movie, decent food, but I hope that is the last Saturday night I spend anywhere near Times Square for a long time. Or forever. God, that is the worst place on Earth.