>How could I have known when I rolled out of bed this morning at 9:20 after going to bed at 3:30 (I just had to finish Assassination Vacation) that my evening would be so full of excitement? Had I any clue, there might have been a bit more bounce in my step as I ran errands (picked Tycho up from vet, bought him a new cushion, bought him lettuce) and then headed in to work. Since I did not know, I shlumped around in the heat.

Anyway, as I left work with Left Coast Insomniac for a policy-related dinner, I angrily ranted about some injustice that had been cast upon us. “So-and-so can just SUCK MY DICK!” I bellowed as we scurried up Wall Street toward the subway. Yes, I bellowed this, and a nice yuppie man in khakis and a polo shirt turned around, horrified, to see whop would shout out such obscenities at the height of the evening commute. When we made eye contact and I grinned, he just started cracking up, shook his head a little, and I believe walked with an extra bounce the rest of the way. I hadn’t provided random amusement for folks on the street in a while, so that was nice.

When we arrived for our dinner at a Thai restaurant in SoHo called Peep, three of our companions were waiting for us with smirks. Beware of the bathroom, they warned. I had an inkling that it might be one of those weird ones with opaque glass that allow others to watch your silhouette while you do your personal business (a Crunch gym on Van Ness Street in San Francisco has showers like that – people can stand around watching the outlines of their gym mates wash their snatches and dicks, which I could understand in a place like LA, but not for the life of me San Francisco), although why anyone would want to watch fellow diners crap and piss while they eat is even more mysterious. I was on the right track with this thought, but not quite right. It seems that the bathrooms have one way mirrors. This way someone can piss or shit and watch others eat. Trust me, this fucks with you psychologically. While intellectually, I knew that no one could see me as I squatted over the pot (I never sit on he seat in public if I can avoid it), but as I was watching the pad Thai noodles fall out of some cloddy slobs mouth, I could not shake the feeling that it was because he just saw me wipe my “butter biscuit,” as my grandmother would say. Eventually, I had to shut my eyes because I couldn’t deal.

After dinner, the group headed east to the rice pudding restaurant, Rice to Riches. This is the dream of a super wealthy crazy man who wanted to share his love of high quality rice pudding with the world. It took two years to build out (while paying full rent, as is customary in NYC) and design special plastic containers shaped like rice pods into which the fancy flavored rice puddings are ditched. (Seriously, it is high class and reusable for bringing lunch to work.) While we were making a mess and sharing such delicacies as mascarpone rice pudding with cherries, graham cracker rice pudding, and coconut rice pudding, walked in with a pregnant woman. This being NYC, people stared a bit but no one bothered him. He used the bathroom (after which my pregnant friend used it and wondered if his naked ass had been on the seat right before hers), ate rice pudding, put on his sunglasses, and walked out into the dark nighttime streets. It was cool.

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