Thursday, March 31, 2005

There are two of us, now. :)

Last night, after we'd jumped up and down a few times in the kichen (ok, just me), we followed our tummies to the East Village where we randomly selected an Indian restaurant--one of at least a dozen--on Sixth. Along Sixth St, between First and Second avenues, is the what's referred to as Little India. We were the only kids in the joint--it just opened, thus has only a single posted credit (Village Voice write-up) to its name. Given the vast collection of restaurants in this city, each one seems to compete for the title of *most posted write-ups*--Zagat, Village Voice, NY Metro, Time Out NY, etc.--which in some cases cover the better portions of windows. So dinner--a tough-to-beat $10 price fixe consisting of soup, appetizer, entree & dessert--was great, and our server, Mr. Why Not?, was sweet.

More on yesterday:
I entered the scene at 6:30 a.m., hopping the 9 and getting off at Seventh & Columbus. From there (Lincoln Sq) I took my place in the long standby line winding around the bldg that houses ABC Studios. My hopes dim, I stood contemplating my next move. (Central Park? Upper West?) Suddenly: "Are you alone?" Yes. "We have an extra ticket you can have, if you'd like." Um, really? "Yeah. Our other person bailed on us, so we have an extra." Oh, well sure. I promptly joined them at the end of the ticket-holder line and waited the forty-five minutes to enter the studio. Ann and Angela were a sweet pair--a mother-daughter team from the Atlanta area. Via thick Southern drawls, I learned a bit about daughter (doesn't work, travels often) and couture-bedecked mother (doesn't work, scared of travel) before the lot of us met another duo--x and x from just outside *Chicaaago.* Grandmother was a toughie--all brass, loved it--and daughter an 18-year-old 16 year old who looked puzzled when I mentioned the El. "Huh? I don't know about that." Er, ok.

We entered the studio--myself and a hundred-odd middle-aged women, some w/ daughters, some w/o. There was an air of glee about the room, as forty five year olds prattled on about Kelly ("I just think she's sooo cute!" I can't wait to see what she's wearing!") and her other half ("He is just sooo cute!" "What a card!"). Ow. If you would, imagine the sea of fallen faces when it was learned that little Kell-Kell was vacationing in the Carribean. But brighten up, folks: The Donald's in the house! (Sadly, they did.)

Fess-up time: I have a wholly unhealthy, wholly unexplainable love (ner, like) affair w/ the morning talk show that is Regis & Kelly. My distaste for Regis' dorky humor/chipmunky features and Kelly's bizzare jauntiness don't lead to an easy interpretation of this, ahem, embarrassing fixation. But now you know.

Instead of bogging you down w/ the grissly details, here a few high/lowlights:

I left the studio feeling slightly dirtier than when I went in. And while I'd like to say I'll ne'er again tune in, that would be dishonest. It's hopeless.

kandd_firstnight.jpg

Posted by princess kanomanom @ 11:27 AM

Read or Post a Comment

I can't believe you're really a Regis & Kelly fan. Who knew? Hey, we're moving there in two weeks. We should have a drink or coffee...Carolyn

Posted by Anonymous Carolyn @ 9:39 PM #
 

Ahh! You!! Yes, surely. Where are you livin'? (Email me off-blog.)

Posted by Blogger princess kanomanom @ 10:48 AM #
 
<< Home