New York, New York. The city where I shop too much, eat too much, drink way too much, and never sleep enough. This weekend was no exception.

Before I get into my stories, though, let me tell you that I've forgotten how great it is being on antibiotics. Especially if you're on multiple ones, including cipro. I mean, I've had absolutely no appetite lately. Correct that: I've had an appetite, but my stomach has hurt too much for me to eat. So it's like I'm on a forced diet. It's great. And my mother thinks that the pictures of the festering abscess look just awful. I love spreading the joy.

Anyhow, here are some highlights from the weekend:

Going to the Conan O'Brien taping. He is much funnier in person. I find him quite annoying on television. His hair is unreal; I swear it rivals Donald Trump's. Also, the set is much smaller than it looks on stage.

Going to the Whitney Bienniel. What would have made this excursion even more fun (read: um, awkward) is if Nick had joined us, as he was planning to do. Luckily, he decided to go to a movie instead, so we were spared his contemporary art-lovin' ways.

Visiting my favourite pet store (on 62nd and Lexington) multiple times to look at Malteses. There was this one cage/kennel thingy where they had put two older Malteses, and one was totally rambunctious, basically abusing the other one mercilessly. It was quite sad, the whipped one had totally matted fur, and the abusive one had a nice shiny coat. But then, the mean one would occasionally pause its bullying to look at you with just the cutest face ever! How could I not fall in love with it? Plus, I obviously want the proactive dog, rather than the one that takes abuse.

Leaving an Italian restaurant Sunday night, me saying with glee, "It's time to drain my pus-filled wound!" and crankypants looking much aggrieved, saying, "That has to be the least romantic thing said ever." I'm sorry, I never considered us to be a terribly romantic couple. Hell, technically we're not even a couple, as we never had the talk. (Yes, it's a weak argument.) If the terms have changed, someone's supposed to let me know. I like memos. But he might also have been tired of me either talking about my plague-infested ankle, or better yet, sticking it in his face.

Having a dream that crankypants woke me up by turning on all the lamps in the room and waking up mad at him - only to find out that it was only a dream. But hey, he only lets me sleep 8 hours a night, claiming any more is unhealthy. So it could have been reality. And he wonders why I spend the rest of the day yawning. At least I got my own back by unconsciously stealing all the covers and sleeping smack in the middle of the bed, leaving him maybe a foot of mattress. My invisible friend wanted to sleep on the bed too, and he was obviously cold.

But all of that was fun and uneventful.

But no, I know that what you want to hear about was how the group dinner at Punch and Judy went. Because after all, it was the first time crankypants had met Nick.

First things first. I consumed a ridiculous amount of wine that night. Ree-di-cuu-lous. To the point that, yes, there were some minor black-outs, and my response to any further plans for the evening, or any question I didn't feel like answering, was "Kick crankypants and ask him." Because I do that, and it works. But it doesn't work so well for other people, I feel.

But as much as I like to be melodramatic and stuff, the evening was rather uneventful in the end. I think. For some reason, I sat next to Nick and crankypants sat across the table from me. I'm not really sure how that worked out. And then Kevin and I spent a lot of time making fun of another friend, Julie, after she left early because she was being a morose bore. We also called up one of our friends in Seattle and "defriended" her for never calling us. She has not called us back yet. Obviously, she doesn't care. She deserved to be defriended. And then Karina and I spent a long time talking about makeup. And Nick and I obviously talked, since I couldn't ignore him as he was next to me, nor did I want to ignore him. Poor guy, he didn't really know anyone else there, yet the majority knew of him. I think I told him that I deserved a nice big birthday present from him. He better deliver on that promise.

There was lots of wine. I remember ordering maybe 4 bottles. Maybe 5. Perhaps even 6. I don't know, after awhile as soon as one bottle was empty, I waved for another. Sure, we split them amongst 3-4 people.. but still. My glass was never empty. We were there from 8:30 'til.... midnight? one? I'm not sure. That's a lot of time for my wineglass to never be empty. And then we went across the street for more drinks! Why don't people keep a better eye on me?!

And of course nothing scandalous happened. Crankypants was right there. Nick would have been stupid to attempt to touch me in any inappropriate way. I think they talked? I'm not quite sure.

Oh, and crankypants's one declaration on the subject was, "Now I don't feel threatened at all." It's rather heartwarming to think that he was somewhat worried, but now no worries? Sigh. But I guess it's better that I don't tell him that I can totally envision myself married to Nick, just not sleeping with him. (Yes, I know that presents some major hurdles. And that's why we're not dating now.)

Like I said, I wish I had gorey details. But I don't. In the end, it was just a great night out with friends.

(Unfortunately, all that booze meant that I completely forgot about the cuddle party. There was no appropriate time to bring it up, and I wasn't doing it to prove a point, or anything. Oh well.)