After months of staggeringly high temperatures, damp armpits and butt sweat, today was a breath of paradise in good old New York. I actually wore a LONG-SLEEVED SHIRT to work. I know. And then, when I left work, I KEPT MY JEANS ON INSTEAD OF CHANGING BACK INTO SHORTS. I KNOW.
You won't believe it, but I even GOT A LITTLE CHILLY in the park after the sun went down. I know.
To commemorate the beautiful day, I took myself and Wilde (the book of Oscar Wilde poems, plays and short stories that I found on the sidewalk a couple months ago) to dinner at Chelsea Market, where I splurged on an $11 veggie burger at Friedman's Lunch. (Which also serves breakfast and dinner, as you'd have it.) I rarely dine solo at a place that isn't Chinese fast food, so it was a true luxury to sit in my long-sleeved shirt with Lady Windermere's Fan, which could be a) a bad play, b) a fine play but just not as smart as The Importance of Being Earnest or An Ideal Husband, or c) TOO smart of a play for me to truly understand. AKA, I don't really get it, I don't think it's funny...and it seems kind of stupid. And I'm almost at the end. It seems unredeemable. (Not a word?)
In the middle of the third act, when I am still trying to distinguish between Lord Darlington, Lord Windermere, Lord Augustus and Dumby, I look up to see Blake Lively and Penn Badgley walk by me. An avid (read: giddy, giggly, girly) Gossip Girl (read: the anti-Wilde) fan, I normally would have felt my heart grow three sizes at the sight of the two of them together only inches away from me. However, this is actually the third Blake Lively sighting I've witnessed in just two weeks. The first sighting was when she and Penn came into the busy restaurant where I work. It was Sunday brunch and we had dozens of people waiting for a table, but when they sauntered up, I threw the waitlist all the way into the Hudson River. "What waitlist??! We'll get you seated! Right this way! Anywhere you like! Right this way!" The second sighting was just a week later when she came in and asked to sit out on the patio with her dog. Of course, she was in a fedora and floral jumper and looked like just the essence of the twenty-something fabulous New Yorker. Of course.
And here I was again, casting my eyes upon her lovely self---long blonde hair tied into a fabulous (overusage of word, but just no other way to describe it) mess, short shorts and a tank top, Penn in all of his monotone glory in her shadow. They sat in the back of the cafe, and I indulged in a glance, but that was it. I thought briefly about being cool enough to say hello on the way to the bathroom or something, but then realized that that wouldn't be cool at all, it would be scary.
I finished every morsel of my veggie burger, threw them one last look and packed up my Wilde. What a girl. I'd like to be her, have her style. Or at the very least, have those legs. That'd be JUST fine.
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