Live From New York, It’s A Bedraggled Party Goddess!

I’m in NYC to do a Fox and Friends show tomorrow morning on tailgating parties. Couldn’t be more fun until Hurricane Gustav, Ivanhoe, Katrina II or whatever hit 5 seconds after I landed. After a fab early dinner at Spice Market (painfully delightful chili rubbed beef skewers with a Thai basil dipping sauce, Ovaltine chocolate something with bananas, help me I had about 5 courses and plenty of sake) and we caught one of the only cabs back uptown in the middle of torrential rain. I still had to make a market run for my appearance tomorrow and low and behold the cab driver gets in an accident. Of course he does. This might as well have been Hurricane Wing Fop. This very challenged gentleman sideswiped a not-so-happy New Yorker when we were like 3 blocks from the hotel. Of course this not-so-happy guy starts pounding on the window for us to get out of the car so he could “fock up” my cab driver. ” Dude, I am going to fock you up! I am going to fooooooooooooockkkkk you uuuuuuuuup man. ” My very capitalistic cab driver wanted to make sure that he collected our $8.50 fare prior to being focked up however which further ennnnnnraged the victim. After 10 swipes with the credit card machine that didn’t work, we basically were evicted from the cab. I ran 2 blocks to the market, mascara running, completely soaked in search of interesting beers for tomorrow’s shoot, when finally I finish and get to my hotel room – SOAKING wet, thank you Ivanhoe.

I get to the room, start unpacking, ready to test drive my portable grill (part of the shoot) when my husband calls me. Mind you, he wanted to go back to the room prior to my market run because little fairy princess Cinderella thought his jacket was going to shrink and disintegrate with a drop of water. Let’s not worry about the wife who has to be on national t.v. in her one pair of pants which are now totally shot. Just make sure Cinder-pants has a nice blue blazer to wear. (Maybe disgruntled New York taxi victim could have focked up someone else?) Disinterested in his whining, I did the market run on my own and clearly he should’ve beaten me back to the room, but nooooooo. When I pick up the phone, in my underpants, which are also soaking, my husband calls to say that he’s found a new friend and can I go and meet him. Huh? On the way back to the hotel, he meets the so nice owner of this swank bar, Providence, who’s invited him to have a drink and can I head down there? Back on the wet clothes go (due to my packing purge I cannot afford to waste my only other dry outfit on this outing) and I head down to meet new best friend. Lily princess’s jacket evidently is now made of Teflon because he is happy as a chesire cat without a mention of the acid rain that clearly must have destroyed it by now? Post tea at Providence (remember I’d had plenty of sake and someone needs to work tomorrow – hello husband!) we start to head back to the hotel but Ivanhow has now turned into Holy Windblown Nightmare and I am flung the four blocks back to my room to check my grill.

The grill works and I am going to bed after I board up the windows.