This is part 2 of my Blogher experience as recorded in my journal and I would recommend that you read part one first so that this part would make sense but honestly I don’t think that’s going to help either way.
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Me: Take a right on Houston Street.
Everyone else in New York: You mean “Howston Street?”
me: No, I don’t fucking mean “Howston Street”. It’s pronounced Houston. I’m FROM there.
Everyone else in New York: We know but we’ve been mispronouncing it for years just to fuck with you people. Oh look! It’s the Empeer State Bwilding.
me: Let me out of this taxi.
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You know what should be on the job description of taxi drivers? Knowing where shit is. It’s Times Square, dude. Eventually someone’s gonna want to go there. Program that shit into your GPS.
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This is what happens when I try to call Kristen of Mommy Needs a Cocktail to come sit with me because I can’t leave my room:
I totally want to show this to everybody but I can’t because I can’t leave my room. Thanks, anxiety disorder. You’re ruining it for everyone.
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Went to the Voices of the Year Gala and there was a naked picture of me in the lobby, which sounds kinda sexy until I mention that I was holding a plunger and that it’s named “Psycho”. Hard to argue with that one. Then I sat in a corner with an antique Smith-Corona typing psychic poetry for people because I was promised free drinks. The poems were really less poems and more just extra sentences in case you needed one and started out with stuff like “Your eyes explode like roman candles in a starry night. Also? Nice boobs” and by the end of the night they had degenerated into “I’m tooo drun_k to tyype. MY fin_ggers hurrt. Wheres the comma?”
Also, my friend Jordan came to ask if I needed anything and I said I’d like a cocktail but she’s Mormon so she’s never ordered a drink before so the bartender just gave her soda water and she was all “No, add something alcoholic” and he’s all “What kind of alcohol?” and she’s like “I don’t know. The alcoholic kind” and I don’t know what he put in it but from the taste I’m assuming it was rubbing alcohol but I pretended like it was really delicious because if that shit keeps her out of heaven I wanted her to at least feel like it was worth it. And this is why you don’t let Mormons get cocktails for you. Because they aren’t good at it and also because God might think you’re forcing them to sin and then you end up in hell, which is probably filled with a giant bar but only Mormons are allowed to mix the drinks so you end up drinking turpentine-coladas for eternity and also your hair is made of snakes.
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Went to the New York Library with Alice so that we could hunt for ghosts but it took awhile to get in because we couldn’t figure out how doors work. True story. Then we got in and they searched our bags because I guess there are a lot of shootings that go down in the library? We asked a librarian where we needed to go to see where Ghostbusters was filmed and she seemed flustered and told us that most people want to know where the Sex and the City scenes were shot.
me: How gauche. We’re much too sophisticated for that. Where was Slimer captured?
Librarian: I…let me look that up for you.
me: Have you ever seen any ghosts in the library?
Librarian: Well, I only work from 1 to 4 on Thursdays and Fridays.
me: Ah. So maybe they work on different hours.
Alice: Actually, I looked this place up on the internet and couldn’t find anything about this place being haunted.
me: No, I’m fairly certain Ghostbusters was a documentary.
Then we explored the library and we didn’t see any ghosts but we did see the “Quiet Zone” which was unnerving and looks like a lot of people in time-out. Then we considered how sad it was that no one had ever been murdered there because that would make the building so much more fascinating and we thought about murdering someone in the bathroom just to help out the library but we decided not to because it’s illegal and also because we both have poor upper-body strength. Then I took a picture of Alice in the library and we totally got a ghost in the picture who was so real that you couldn’t even tell that she was a ghost.
So yeah, it was pretty bad-ass.
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Went to a hipster hotel coffee bar because I needed a diet coke. Barista with mutton-chops and a beret was all “Oh. We don’t do that here” like I’d just asked if I where they do the illegal dog fights. Then I pointed out that there was “soda” on the menu and he was all “That’s sparkling Italian soda. We don’t do diet coke” and I just stood there staring at him and Alice gave me this look like “Is there going to be a problem here? Because I will run away if so” and Mutton-Chops was all “You want the sparkling Italian soda. Trust me” and I was all “Are you trying to save me from being too pedestrian? Because I don’t need your pity“. But then I paid $5 for a sparkling Italian soda because I was thirsty. BUT THEN(!) Alice and I were wandering the halls of the hipster hotel and there was a cart fucking FILLED with diet cokes and I was all “You have GOT to be shitting me” and so I stole them because seriously? Not cool, hipsters. But then it turns out that you have to have an old-fashioned bottle opener to open the damn things so I ended up just staring at them for two days like they were installation art. Which is probably what hipsters do with them too, now that I think about it.
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Part 3 comes out tomorrow unless I get distracted by somethi