I just got back from eating dinner with my old roommate Simms and two friends of his, who are in New York from Bloomington to see The Who tomorrow and Thursday. I dragged them around Times Square and we ate at Sardi’s, which was pricy but pretty decent. Since everyone there had to split at eight for theatre shows, we had the whole place to ourselves. I had steak for the second time this year; I wanted a black angus but they ran out, so instead I got the filet mignon. I’m not 100% on that cut, because you get a lot of meat in the middle and not as much on the outside, even if it is more tender. This was a pretty decent cut though; I had the same thing on my birthday in Vegas at the Circus Circus steakhouse (don’t laugh – it’s one of the best on the strip) and it wasn’t as good, but cost more.
(And before any of you PETA types send me a gallon of blood in the mail, I should disclaim that I am not a regular steak eater and I probably would’ve ordered a good salad, if they would’ve had it on the menu.)
While we wandered around Times Square, I ran into my old pal and Juno coworker Matt Daly, passing out fliers for a comedy club. He’s now a standup comedian, hustling people to his shows. I still haven’t had a chance to catch his act, but he is a funny dude and I hope to check him now that he’s got this thing in Times Square.
I’m still mentally off because of this heat. Last night the power went off and then back on twice, and each time there was a half-second when I thought I’d be truly fucked. Turns out a power station here in Astoria had a fire, and I was lucky enough to not lose power all night. But even with power, a fan, and a portable AC, it’s hotter than hell in here.
I got a new biography on Henry Rollins, so I’m going to read that for a minute before I pass out from heatstroke.