It's a Saturday night in New York, and despite my recent immersion into the New York night life as if my friends and I were the middle-class version of Paris, Britney and Lindsey (without the cocaine and baby-daddy problems, of course, and which is why I haven't been blogging as much lately), I am at home in my pajamas. I am only awake now because my secret service buddy's phone call woke me up and then I noticed my laptop was still on. Moments ago, he was entering 230 Fifth rooftop bar and tried to make me feel guilty because he had "banked on the fact that I would be out, would probably be in meatpacking and could take a five-minute cab ride to enjoy one of the last weekends that the rooftop bar would be open."
Damn. He knows how to invoke pressure ... that's probably why he's in the secret service! Ha! However, I came back with my saint-like reasons (which are all true) and he had to immediately revoke statements in which he directly implied that I was a loser.
1) I was out until 4:30am last night with my girls (thanks to 30 extra minutes on my commute because I fell asleep on the train and woke up at 191st St next to three inebriated Columbia University students).
2) I had to be up at 10am because I work with a mentoring program for your girls in Harlem every other Saturday from 10am to 1pm.
3) One of the women I work in the program with was performing in a Harlem Alive Tour this afternoon and invited me to come watch, and that was one of those cool things that I felt like I had to take advantage of. She played Madam A'Lelia Walker, a fascinating New York socialite in the early 1900's, on the corner of 136th and Lenox. So I didn't get home until 3:30pm and could not fall asleep until almost 7:30pm-ish - I think.
4) I have to be up early tomorrow morning to walk for breast cancer.
So back to bed.
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