» Spanky's BBQ. Conveniently located behind the Conde Nast Building. Hanging with some current and future alums. Eating crab cakes, 'cause it was Friday, and I wasn't feeling the catfish. Somehow I convinced myself, after a previous bad run-in with the Heartland Brewery line of beers, that drinking PBR would be better. Sitting there with three cans in front of me, I wondered: Can one really claim to have standards by drinking Pabst, but not Bud? Fun times overall, although it's too bad they all had to hop on trains and buses and get out of dodge so soon.
» No time or energy for pancakes on Saturday. Alas.
» Measure for Pleasure at the Public Theater. Restoration comedy meets bawdy yarn meets Shakespeare comedy, complete with rhyming couplets to herald a character's impending exit. Playwright (too tired to look it up) knows his forms. Also amusing: the opening of the fourth wall for moments of commentary on the absurdity of, say, theatrical asides, traditionally indicated with the hand as impenetrable vocal shield. Memorable line: "Talk to the fan." 90% of the jokes were written easy-to-get. Some laugh-out loud, others just smile-worthy. Sappy epilogue and (SPOILER ALERT!) triple marriage at the end, with one-third being gay, of course, this being New York theater and the Public at that.
» Saturday night, late-night Williamsburg art gallery crawl. Forgot what a desolate section of town that can be. Guess I remember much of it from the window of my dear-departed (OK, "re-titled") Neon. Still fun to pop into various galleries, open until 11 for the evening and drink $2 Pilsners and read the art (lots of text-based art ... I could go on, but I won't ... not here ... not now) and the people. A woman, whom I didn't actually get to talk to, was in Pierogi 2000, wearing a costume/artwork covered in multicolored leather gloves. She was continually occupied chatting with one interested party after another. I was going to ask to take her photo, but some other guy whipped out his Treo first, and I didn't feel like asking her again, like she were some sort of jaded celebrity.
» Caught up with an old friend (via different spots in Pa., now in D.C.) on the phone, sitting on a gas station stoop. This was outside one of the Billyburg galleries where I'd bumped into a former co-worker. Could not place her for about half a dozen exchanges. Finally was able to place her. Was there with her City College art-school boyfriend, who apparently takes the 1 train north all the time, but never as high as the Cloisters.
» Barcade for a birthday party. What little talent I have at arcade games, happily Nintendo-deprived child that I was. Wasted too many quarters on Arkanoid, thinking the whole time of all those people playing it on their cell phones on the subway. Good selection of microbrews on tap, though. Not the nicest ambience I've ever seen in a bar. Blatantly attempts to attract the smoking crowd with its enclosed wood-bench seating area out front.
» I should really be in bed by now. Why am I on such a blogging kick? Oh, yeah, perhaps I'm just mugging for the camera after today's successful Gawker tip.