Gypsies, tramps and… hopefully not thieves. Ben landed in Bucharest, Romania last night and is already off to Sinaia and Bresov. He and NYU roomie native will make a Vampire Trek to Vlad’s Bran Castle nearby. After a long love affair with Terminal 5 at Heathrow, Ben’s finally launched on his pre-career journey.
Meanwhile, prepster Anne & fam enjoying August on Shimmo. GemQueen continues beach time in RI. After a rainy drive from NYC, we’ll be happily raiding late summer farm stands. Hope Joey3 has time to make his ‘coogan’ recipe in PR.
Michele Bachmann warns of impending danger from the Soviet Union. She must have gotten warped in her time machine again.
25,000 visitors to TheSideTrek over the weekend. Thanks for stopping along the way. Must be Joe’s ‘Coogan Recipe’, ParTea comments below. Whoa. Congrats, NY Gift Show Excellence Award, “Gump’s of the Midwest”, mazehome.com.
Kay Bailey Hutchison as Romney running mate. Texas antidote. No Michele, it wasn’t Elvis’ birthday yesterday. If you yell something loud enough, does it become true? Dylan Ratigan was asked if he is a “feminist” by a young Steinem-come-lately. He said he’s an ‘egalitarianist’. I agree. I’m a ‘meritarianist’.
Perry, Bachmann, Palin party on! TPaw out. Romney flying under the radar. Perry scary. Cafe Party rise up! Let’s turn over this careening tea cart!
Iowa center of August doldrums, slow news.
Back in New York, Joy upstaged Sherri in the wedding wars. Fun lunch with Betsey at Ben’s 1 Rm Riv Vu. Great Sat Nite with halibut cheeks and octopus sashimi, yum at Nobu Next Door. Black cod, too. Giraffe still best city stay.
Soggy Sunday. Golf teaz. Woodstock, Vermont native wins PGA. Keegan who? Dufner? Lackluster leader board. Look forward to new read, Derby Day.
Untitled. Danny Meyer’s new “coffee shop” in the Whitney. Ben navigated bike through Secret Serice, PDNY in front of Harvey Weinstein’s house in West Village. Fundraiser for PrezO, with Anna Wintour near RadioQueen’s digs. Speaking of WOR star, happy birthday Deb Colitti!
GOP Iowa Debate. Winners? Newt. Romney. Losers? Pawlenty. Huntsman. Cowboy Rick gets in the fray. Elizabeth Warren taking on Scott Brown in Massachusetts?! Tiger’s first major after le divorce deux. He’s still breaking records. Not the good kind. Worst round ever at PGA Thursday. Pats…
How many committees can be ignored before something gets done? Put the latest ‘super’ group of twelve on the list. Iowa trumps D.C. WonderWoman Sarah is crashing everybody’s party again with her dysfunctional family bus tour. Crazy-eyes Bachmann will not be pleased. There may be blood. Jeb Bush is backing Jon Huntsman. Keep an eye on that Deseret fox. He’ll challenge Romney to a robotic fist-a-cuffs in magic underwear. Who’ll be left standing? TPaw? Perry? Newt?
Meanwhile Societe Generale (“SockJen” in bankerese) is tanking in France, another big Euro bank. Sarkozy left Cote d’Azur in August. That’s serious.
On several dusky evenings recently we’d spotted a gray fox darting back and forth across the yard and under the front porch where a skunk family is in residence. Today’s Gazette reports that this same Foxy Loxy, apparently rabid, was killed by a croquet mallet in Williamsburg.
Foxy Loxy met his violent fate after wreaking havoc in the kitchen at A-1 Pizza. The staff chased him down the stairs where Foxy bashed through the screen door. Then Foxy decided to bite a poor unsuspecting customer in the parking lot. Poor teen was visiting his grandparents from Pennsylvania. Foxy’s last hurrah up the road was harassing little tots in their backyard pool. Dad. Croquet Mallet. Yuk.
Our Stevie Sancho has found his new hidalgo. Best day in a thirty-three year caddy career. And Adam Scott is hot. May watch the PGA again after all. Animal house meets Saturday night live. The JoeyPants and GaryShirts Show. Don’t ask. Brothers-in-law. I’ll be doing the shoulder Tango for a few weeks. Don’t ask.
Equity markets cratering. Fear not, there’s no where else in the world to put your money. Bond market fine. Things will stabilize. At what level is the question. Anderson Cooper is everywhere. Day and night. Kinda the Gordon Ramsay of journalism. At least somebody is working in August. While Rome burns.
Hey, Chad. Ocho Cinco is not Ochenta y cinco.