Last night, Bobby Den, my roommate through college and one of my closest friends, got engaged. And while I’m absolutely thrilled for both him and his wonderful fianc

A few weeks back, my mother picked up serious Good Mommy Points by pre-ordering me a copy of the new Harry Potter. Then, this past weekend, she and my father surged even further ahead with the best birthday present ever. (A bit early, since they were in town for a wedding and wanted to present in person).

It’s amazing how much more pleasant a subway ride is with 5600 songs in your front pocket.

I’m hoping my mother has the world’s silkiest, cleanest, bounciest and most vibrant hair, because otherwise the 32 (yes, thirty two) bottles of shampoo and conditioner in her shower might seem a bit like overkill.

Though I could apparently go all night fleshing out the random posting ideas horded and festering in my brain over the past week, I’m hoping to get in at least a token amount of sleep before Helen Jane’s wedding (and subsequent shindig) tomorrow evening, so I’m stopping here. First, however, a few last pre-matrimonial thoughts:
– Helen Jane absolutely, totally, and completely rocks the proverbial Kasbah, and I’m thrilled I’ll be there when she walks down the aisle. Having initially met her online, I now even have some hope for this new-fangled so-called Information Superhighway.
– Also, her three bridesmaids are foxy, foxy, foxy.
– One of them, however, secretly can’t stand one of the others, so I’m kind of hoping for a catfight. Though given the brains differential between the two, I sadly suspect the detest will remain safely undetected. [Personal Note: Sorry, HJ; I know it’s your wedding and all, and I should totally be rooting for smooth and happy and whatever. But a catfight! Let a guy dream.]

– Also, at the Thursday pre-pre-wedding BBQ, after a few too many beers and a last shot of Jaeger (soon to no longer be her namesake drink), Helen Jane offered ten bucks if I could get all three bridesmaids to go to bed with me, at the same time. Which, while I don’t really foresee happening, would probably trump the catfight.
– While kayaking down the lovely tidal Napa River may sound like a wonderful day-before-the-wedding event, it’s slightly less so when the temperature in Napa is 107 degrees.
– And, finally, to the many faithful readers who have written in regarding Sarah Brown, I regret to inform that she will not be in attendance, having been unable to escape the chains and shackles of her day job. She will, however, be in NYC next week, so I get to stalk her in real life after all.

I’m off to bed.

As I post this, my parents are both busily waltzing away at the Vienna Opera Ball. They head to Austria every few years to do so, with elaborate ball gowns and natty tails tuxedos in tow. Later this week, they’ll be at the Royal Ball in the Hofsburg Palace as well. Which, frankly, is pretty damn cool.

Yesterday afternoon, my little brother and his good friend George arrived here in New York (both having just finished finals at the University of Denver). They’ll be camping out in my living room for the next five days, causing trouble throughout the city. Together, they’ve used the word “dude” more frequently in the last twenty-four hours than most people do throughout their entire lives.

My 80 year old grandmother makes me look like a slacker and a lazy bum. This is a woman who, living down near Grammercy Park, will regularly walk the hundred block round trip to the Guggenheim Museum. This is a woman who, late in life, returned to NYU not only for a college degree, but for a masters as well. This is a woman who, throughout her 60’s and 70’s, worked at a day facility caring for drug addicts and the mentally disturbed. This is a woman who, now, volunteers at the senior center assisting people ten, fifteen years younger than herself, with absolutely no sense that by all rights she should be the one in the chair being spooned jello rather than the other way around.

And, most recently, this is a woman who, having decided she missed out on her Jewish heritage by not having a bat mitzvah at the customary age of twelve, took it upon herself to learn Hebrew, and, some 68 years later, is holding the traditional ceremony this evening. I’ll be in the audience, wishing her well, and hoping that I inherited some of those genes.

My little brother David is in from Denver for the weekend – he had flown in to Boston last weekend with a group of friends, then road-tripped down to New York on Wednesday. Since my return from the tropics Thursday evening, he’s been taking up residence on my couch and quickly consuming the contents of my refrigerator.

Last night, the two of us headed to Madison Square Garden to watch the Rangers get slaughtered by the Atlanta Thrashers. It was a sad day for Rangers fans