After a very stressful week I decided to treat myself to a massage. I was really looking forward to the massage, because who are we kidding folks, but Calgon ain’t gonna really take me away (those lying Madison Avenue bastards) just like there ain’t no ancient Chinese secret to get my clothes white. In short, I was physically assaulted by my masseuse, quite frankly I’m not sure he deserves that title since he completely and utterly man-handled me and might I add, not in a good way. Basically, I was looking for a good rub down and instead I got a good beat down. When I begged for mercy and tried to ask him to easy up, my little Korean friend didn’t understand what I meant and proceeded to give my fully clothed back a rug burn (you know it was one of those 10 minute sit in the massage chair quickie things). I should’ve gone with my gut instinct, which is to only use my usual ladies, but they were all busy. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and I had the Tibetan/Nepalese woman who has picked up Korean while working at the salon to translate that he was turning me into a battered woman and he needed to stop roughing me up or there would be blood on his manos. I felt like the only thing that was separating me from looking like a glazed Peking Duck was I wasn’t hanging upside down in some window in Chinatown.

So, after contemplating filing a police report for assault and battery, I was on my way home and I’m a block from my apartment when all of a sudden I hear someone yell “Hey Boston!” I don’t know how I knew, but I knew I was “Boston”. It was George, some of you know George. For those of you who don’t, he is the homeless guy who used to live in front of my building. He was harmless and sometimes he’d chat me up and one time after a few too many cocktails (um, on my part, not his…I think his elixir of choice was something entirely different), we started chatting and he told me his life story. I had to cut it short because I was off to meet someone I was “seeing” at the time and George’s advice to me was to “stay away from the bars and not to go getting drunk now.” Ok, G. Occasionally, G would ask me for $2. I never gave it to him because I know what he used it for and I give to organizations that help the homeless in more productive ways.

So, I hear “Hey Boston,” from G like we’ve been old war buddies and “Boston” is my Top Gun call signs. G is off the streets now, he’s living in the Bronx and every time I see him he complains about his accommodations, which always surprises me. So, today I learned that G lives for free, doesn’t have to work, sleeps in on Mondays and Tuesdays and then basically makes his rounds to various buildings in a 20 block radius (he’s got 3 different buildings he visits W-F, and I guess Thursday is when he visits my hood). He always has bags full of soda cans because in NY you get money for them (all states should do that)!

My conversation with G was highly entertaining and at times he was asking such personal and probing questions about my family that I felt like I should be lying on a couch and he should be billing me $300 a hour. In addition to our mutual therapy session and learning about each other’s families, G began to educate me on “street terms,” of course I’ve forgotten all of them, but basically I think he admitted to running with a gang that may have allegedly stole money (if I got the gist of it right).

When I asked him about this other guy who claimed to be a homeless war vet and was a rather talented artist (no joke, I think he should’ve had an agent and I think that some people in the hood commissioned him…part of me actually didn’t believe this guy was really homeless), G told me that guy got locked up for selling crack. Evidently, he and G were living in the same building in the Bronx and War Vet allegedly tried to get G in on the action and G told him “he wanted to stay the hell away from crack.”

After G and War Vet moved out of my hood, their territory was taken over by a crack whore who I’m convinced was a prostitute. I complained to the cops about her the most because she started having impromptu block parties in front of the building. At least when I had G, I knew he was harmless and was almost a security guard of sorts for me. From G I learned that she not only has a twin, but is locked up in Riker’s for selling….wait for it….crack (you know the Law & Order bump-bump just went through your head)! I remember marching into the local precinct (I have them on speed dial) and telling them this lady had to go. They told me that there was a big narcotics sting operation going on and they couldn’t tell me when and they couldn’t tell me exactly where it was, but they were going to clean up the hood (and mind you I live in GOOD neighborhood). Sure enough…a few weeks later they were all gone.

Anyway, I was off to meet friends in Koreatown of all places (it comes full circle from Assault and Battery by a Korean to having Korean beer in Ktown) so I had to wrap it up with G. He shook my hand and said “God Bless you sister” after I told him he looked so much better and I hope he knew that, he tried to hit me up for 2 Washingtons and I said, “G, don’t you go starting that again.” He looked at me bashfully and said, “OK, you’re right.”

So then I was off to Ktown where post dinner we were approached by some random Korean dude who wanted us to come to a “special party,” and we were all like “no thanks,” that was after I was warned by a friend with us that he knows for certain some shady stuff goes on in the upper floors (yes, yes, we all know Happy Endings happen there, but apparently other whacked out things happen as well and any cabby that lines up in Ktown can pretty much get you whatever you want). So funny how underground it all is, yet how easy it is to scratch the surface and enter into the den of iniquities it is. So my query to the NYPD and Mayor Bloomberg is why aren’t you running a sting on the human trafficking that goes on in our own city?!

Tonight I went to see God of Carnage, which is a play staring James Gandolfini (Michael), Marcia Gay Harden (Veronica and Michael’s wife), Hope Davis (Annette), and Jeff Daniels (Alan, husband to Annette). It has gotten rave reviews, including 6 Tony nominations (everyone in the cast was nominated).

The play was outrageously funny, but it took awhile for me to warm up to it. I think I was more distracted by the two guys behind me laughing at every frackin line the first 15 minutes and they weren’t that funny to justify that kind of laughter. It’s a short 90 minute play, sans intermission, and it’s about two sets of New York parents trying to sort out a playground brawl between their two sons (basically one son got a serious beat down). The play A.D.D.ed at times to other subjects which ultimately made it more interesting and hysterical. At times I was doubled over in laughter-the kind where you just can’t speak and are silently laughing because it’s so funny. So, my advice is catch it if you can.

I knew going into it, I was going to celebrity whore it out and wait for them all to come out, take pics and get autographs (got all 4 btw, but for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you which is JD’s or which is JG’s). For those who have never done it or who aren’t from New York basically you wait behind police barricades until they come out of the theater, sign some playbills, and are escorted by security into their SUVs.

FAVORITE post-stage interaction was with JG. I didn’t ask JG the question I was dying to ask, which I’m sure he’s been asked 1,000 times. I don’t think I need to tell you what it was, but for those slow on the uptake, I was DYING to ask him what he thought happened to Tony. Did he or did he not get whacked? Instead I asked him what was in the “Rum” they were drinking on stage. At first he said “nuthin,” and then smiled this killer Tony Soprano smile and then said “ice tea,” which is what I suspected. I can totally see how Tony got the ladies. He falls into my “sexy ugly category.” He’s super charming in person and out of all of the stars, he’s arguably the biggest and he was by FAR the coolest! He posed for pics with people (of course I didn’t ask for one-totally should have). He even hugged and kissed an old lady and was like “hey ma, hope you have a good night.” Then some old lady stood on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. Now if I see Carmela one day, my sighting of the Soprano nuclear family will be complete as I was once at a private birthday party of someone I didn’t know who knew Meadow and A.J. and they were there. Meadow is rail thin and A.J. is on the pequeno side.

JG has lost a lot of weight (still a big guy, but he’s took off some serious poundage). But here’s one thing I noticed, the man has no back fat. I won’t say which actress had it because I’m not willing to throw either one of them under the bus as they’re both thin and sweet, but I could tell one had back fat. It’s not fair, not only do men not have to give birth, but they also don’t get back fat! Death to back fat, I say! You can save Venice, save the whales and save the children all you want, but my goal is to eradicate back fat for women of the world! FU, back fat, FU straight to the bowels of hell!

Moving on to Marcia Gay Harden. She’s is fifty and FABULOUS! I want to look that sexy at 50, hell I want to look that sexy NOW! I’ve been in love with her since she started playing this messed up, but powerful lawyer who plays in the big boy’s league on Damages (highly recommend that show). Anyway, she was the one person not to use an SUV, which I thought was cool because although she lives in New York since Damages is filmed here, the woman still had the option, but instead she wandered off into the New York night.

Hope Davis was also sweet and I had a bit of a conversation with her.

In fact the only person I didn’t have a conversation with was Jeff Daniels, who barely spoke to anyone and could not have looked anymore pissed off to see people. Sadly, the only good pic I got of JG was when he came out the same time as JD. So, JD plays this self important uncaring lawyer who is glued to his cell phone. Ironically, he was my favorite character of the lot, but perhaps that’s because that’s the industry I have lived in for the past 8 years and have seen a lot of “Alans” in my day. However, I must say he was my least favorite off stage. It’s like dude, get out of character and suck up 10 minutes of signing playbills and if you’re still “in character,” then think of it as doing the work that lawyers due, which is push paper. Anyway, I’m posting a picture of him that shows his general demeanor during the signing.

But go see God of Carnage, if you can! Tell Tony M. Madison sent ya. Bada-Bing!

As I am writing this I can barely contain my excitement because a childhood dream of mine was fulfilled as I just saw Sesame Street or El Plaza Sésamo for my Spanish speaking brethren being filmed. Ok, truth be told, being the ham that I am, I’m a former wanna be childhood actor. My plan was to star on Silver Spoons and to marry Ricky Schroder or to meet and marry Kirk Cameron while staring on Growing Pains (I even tried the Pritkin diet for like a day because I read that Kirk did it…don’t judge, these were my 7-11 years and Kirk did marry a co-star eventually). I wanted to be interviewed by Carson to plug my upcoming role in something. At my youngest age, I wanted to be one of the child actors on Sesame Street. I was a twice a day watcher…once in the morning before school and then after school (God only knows how my mom tolerated it, God bless her, because if I try to watch it now I lose my mind, but I’m not a fan of the new characters and my old school guys definitely don’t get enough face time). I wanted to meet Mr. Hooper, I wanted to prove the existence of Snuffaluffagus, I wanted to sit in Big Bird’s nest, and I wanted to chill with Bert and Ernie at their apartment.

So today, I was randomly walking through Madison Square Park when I noticed a film shoot being done and it looked like it was with puppets so I stopped and asked one of the production guys if this was Sesame Street and he said yes. I had no idea who the giant orange furry character was so I asked. Evidently, it was “Murray.” Not a clue who Muray is, but he reminded me of Oscar the Grouch. I asked if he was Oscar’s friend (WTF am I 5? Why do I care?). His reply was, “honestly, I don’t know, I haven’t watched the show in years.” Um, but you shoot it dude, so wouldn’t you know the story line? Here’s Murray’s bio http://www.sesamestreet.org/onair/characters/murray_monster It was funny because one random guy asked me what character we were watching and I said, with all the authority I could muster, “Oh that’s Murray.” He said, “I thought I heard some guy say his name is Furry.” I said, “well he’s definitely furry, but no, his name is Murray.” Dear God, am I really having his conversation sober? BTW, Murray was teaching kids how to count to 10.

I asked another guy if I could take a picture of his badge and told him “none of my friends will believe I just saw Sesame Street being filmed. He said, “well we’re not supposed to but sure.” See badge below. I asked again about Murray and he said that he didn’t know anything about it. I told him that if they were filming Bert and Ernie that he would physically have to restrain me from running up to them. Ernie was always my favorite. He laughed and agreed that they are classic characters. Um, yeah! He told me they were shooting Elmo a few days ago and that it was pure pandamonium. I told him that I hated Elmo and he said “Elmo is not of our generation.” Um, no he’s not. I find the new characters annoying (I mean not like I watch it on a regular basis, but I have caught an episode or two here and there over the years), but then again I must remind myself that this isn’t the early 80s and I probably wouldn’t be able to watch a full hour of Sesame Street anymore without downing half a bottle of wine and I’m quite sure that the Children’s Television Workshop wouldn’t promote that kind of behavior.

So, after all the TV/movie shoots I’ve seen while living in New York (I Am Legend, Fringe, Sex and the City, Law and Order, Ghosts of Girlfriends Pasts, ok, technically in Boston, just to name a few), this was by far the one that tops them all! Oh, and I was probably the only adult without un bebe in a stroller or whose enfant was part of the filming that was watching the shoot. Maybe I missed an opportunity to check out the single dads? Who knows. Anyway, I give you furry Murray!

A good friend of mine whom I greatly admire invited me to attend a breakfast and become involved with The New York Women’s Foundation, which raises money (sans the help of endowments) and then donates it to various non-profits within NYC whose aims are to help economically disadvantaged women. Please go to http://www.nywf.org for more 411. To say that I was humbled to be part of it is an understatement and I was brought to tears by one woman’s inspiring story and fought back tears on another’s. However, as one of the guests would later quote Golda Meir in referring to feeling humbled who once said, “Don’t be humble…you’re not that great.” Well alrighty then, I won’t be!

The guest list was full of heavy hitters. Speaker Quinn (I met her once when I randomly stumbled upon Hillary Clinton the night before she gave her concession speech). I saw Quinn and I was all, “Hi Christine” and shook her hand like we were BFFs. It’s ironic that I was star struck by Hil and Quinn because my J.Crew/Vineyard Vines wearing self ain’t exactly one of the converted (but this also happened when I met Al Gore, who I can’t stand, yet I was coo coo for Cocoa Puffs over it at the time. I’m not proud of my whorish political ways). Mayor Bloomberg was there (I’ve seen him before and he gave a boring speech), so was Governor Patterson (excellent speaker), Grace Hightower De Niro (as in Robert’s wife), Lilly Ledbetter, Swanee Hunt, Helen Hunt’s sister and former Ambassador to Austria, and last but not least Queen Latifa. NY1 was there to cover the event and when I mentioned that I LOVE NY1, my friend said “we’re going to get you interviewed,” but they left halfway through. How can NY1 NOT stay for Queen Latifa’s speech? LOVE her, btw.

Highlights:

Queen Latifa stated “for those of you who don’t know me, I used to rap and on occasion I still spit the hotness.” My new goal in life is to try to work “spit the hotness” into casual conversation. She pledged to donate $10k if she got to keep this awesome walking stick (pictured here with it) and she said “I’m going to take it and part the River.” Side bar re: the Moses Red Sea reference, having grown up as a Southern Baptist, I’m used to people shouting out randomly at church and I often found myself going all SB. I was all “Amen sister, I know that’s right,” and things of that nature. Like especially when Angelique Kidjo, a Tanzanian performer, who before singing a beautiful song in Swahili, stated “we need to raise men differently,” I was all “that’s right sister, you tell it girl.” I mean, WTF? Where did that come from? She also stated “you can’t help the world if you don’t first help your own city.” Holla! We need to volunteer in the NYC hizzy people.

Swanee Hunt spoke with a charm that is unique to Texans. The woman who introduced her was a riot. When describing Swanee, she stated that there’s no good slang for women and we have to take it back. She stated that no one says “look at the pair of ovaries or fallopian tubes on her.” So she chose to introduce Swanee, no joke, by stating that “Swanee had a great set of jewels, cojones, stones, balls, she’s got giant golden balls.” That’s one hell of an introduction and when Governor Patterson spoke immediately after her he joked that he “wasn’t sure he had the ovaries or the fallopian tube to follow her act.” Swanee wrote a book called “This Was Not Our War Bosnian Women Reclaiming the Peace,” which I bought and had her autograph. She’s an amazing speaker and she made the point about how we can make a small difference by donating small amounts of money. For example, $150 can provide an education to a girl in Liberia or $12 can provide three pairs of socks for people in a homeless shelter, makes you think about how much of a difference you can make by skipping a few venti lattes (good for the waist line too).

Lilly Ledbetter, was a woman who was instrumental in getting a Fair Pay Act instituted. She said, “if you ever told me I’d be traveling the world, telling my life story in front of the Supreme Court and at the White House getting the Fair Pay Act signed I would’ve told you that someone let the air out of your tires.” Love that expression and it made me think about how the persistence of one woman can change the country and it also inspired me to do more than I am now.

Lastly there were heartbreaking, but inspiring testimonials by those whose lives were transformed. One was by a former prostitute who was nearly beaten to death by her John and left for dead, I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but her story made me weep. She got hooked up with an organization called GEMS (Girl’s Educational and Mentoring Services) and graduated as the Valedictorian of her class and is pursuing a college education (you know the SB in me was dying to yell “Praise Jesus,” but I refrained). The second misty water colored story involved a battered woman who was a former drug addict and ex-con who has now graduated with a BA in criminal forensic psychology and is pursuing her masters. She stated, “This organization saw something in me that I didn’t see myself. I am no longer a failure. I am no longer a victim in society, I’m part of the solution.” Wow! Standing Ovation!

I left there feeling inspired and my spirit of activism was renewed. I hope yours will be too and that you will consider making a donation to NYWF or consider getting involved in some other organization and spit the hotness all over New York City! Don’t you go letting the air out of my tires now! You hear!

Our fair city has been known as the Concrete Jungle, the Asphalt Jungle, and even the Lipstick Jungle. I still to this day do not understand why those yahoos at NBC canceled Lipstick Jungle, way to go geniuses, way to go. Cashmere Mafia was one thing, but Lipstick Jungle, you blew it dudes. Anyway, it’s not a stretch to say that the City can seem like a zoo. After all, who can begin to count the amount of crazy monkeys we’ve sat next to on the train, the irate apes we’ve dealt with at the office, or the grouchy grizzly bears that we can all be sans our morning cup, or two, of overpriced Starbucks cafe (sidebar, at $5 a pop, do you think they secretly slip a roofie of liquid crack in the Colombian blend? I’ve often wondered). Apart from movies and T.V. shows, even stores promote the image of New York being a city full of predators. A recent trip to the Alexis Bittar store, a jewelry store located in Soho, displayed a full grown adult male stuffed lion (pictured here, unfortunately not pictured are his majesty’s giant stuffed cojones that are still intact), which made me think that we New Yorkers are a competitive lot vying for precious resources, be it space, a rent stabilized apartment, a table at the newest hot spot, admission behind the velvet ropes, single straight emotionally available men (assuming they exist and aren’t some mythical urban legend), or the perfect pair of our favorite designer shoes or jeans at a sample sale in our size. Bottom line, it’s a jungle out there!

Even in its quieter moments, the City can at the very least seem like we’re all cooped up on an animal farm. Who hasn’t felt like cattle being herded into the corral while getting on and off the subway during rush hour? I particularly feel that way when I randomly find myself Uptown and walking off of the 86th Street station on the Lexington Avenue line, sometimes I feel like all that is missing is a lasso and a branding iron. Although I’m a fan of cowboys, I’m not the biggest fan of tattoos so I’m rather thankful that no cowboys are on the loose armed with branding irons. Although the Naked Cowboy in Times Square is a whole other story!

With friends in town from L.A. who had brought their 4 year old daughter, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to suggest a trip to the Bronx Zoo. At first, I was afraid that they would want to spend a larger part of the day there than I did, but I’ll be the first one to admit that I was like, “um, do you mind if we could also squeeze in seeing the tigers and the gorillas?” They almost had to restrain me from walking out with a stuffed animal at the gift shop. I’m surprised that I was so into it, having just gotten back from Africa and all, but the Bronx Zoo rocks! I’m ready to go back. Any takers?

For a smattering of what’s available at the Bronx Zoo, I’ve included my first youtube video. If you hold out and watch all the way through, you’ll see actual film footage at the end rather than still footage. It’s not Tribeca Film Festival worthy and I’m sure I won’t be winning any awards for cinematography anytime soon, but I hope you enjoy it and come with me on my next trip to the Bronx Zoo (it’s sure cheaper than a ticket to Africa).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1uiiMbx_0oc

So, I was looking forward to a Saturday excursion to New Jersey (yes, pigs have flown…swine flu and all). It was a good friend’s 30th and his wife had planned an extravagant Luau party. It was also a largely Indian crowd so I was looking forward to having a little homemade Indian food, a little Jai Ho dancing and basically getting “leid” aloha style. Sadly, I woke up randomly at 4 am covered in hives/welts,prompting me to wonder if my Teddy Bear that a former boyfriend gave me as a gift before I left for a trip to Europe “to remember” him by gave me cooties (the bf broke up with me when I got back, pretty sure I should’ve given him a chastity belt to “remember” me by). But the bear stayed because I loved it. He’s now so old that he needs rhinoplasty and could use an eyebrow lift and perhaps some juvederm in the lips at this stage (shh…don’t tell him I told you that).

So after a 4 a.m. phone call to Walgreen’s 24 hour pharmacy on 14th Street and 4 worthless doses of Benadryl later, I found myself at the Lennox Hill ER. I was already in the Central Park area, one of my docs has privileges there, and another was basically telling me she’d meet me at Beth Israel, but that I should “go where the rich people live” and go to Lennox Hill. Damn it if she wasn’t right. I was in and out in under 2 hours. It’s a no brainer the UES had less crazies than downtown and it is now my emergency hospital of choice. At first I was a bit skittish as some Asian chick walked in with a mask (not to go racial, but have you ever noticed that when there’s some communicable disease the Asians are the first to grab masks?). But then when some sick teenager walked in and was coughing up a storm, I wanted to yell “someone get influenza Joe a mask STAT!” Oh and BTW, the Dr. covering for my internist (McDreamy) wouldn’t call me back and I found out from McDreamy today it was because he never got the message because the switchboard was inundated with crazed New Yorkers about the pig flu. Seriously, you pansies, regular influenza kills more people a year! A friend of mine has designed a shirt making fun of the swine flu…joking that what we might be experiencing is more an issue of the (s)wine flu. Please check out his shirt at http://www.zazzle.com/wine_flu_tshirt-235994684569640827 I know my people and I know we’ve all definitely had the wine flu.

Anyways, I was praying for a hot doc because I love doctors. My prayer went a little something like “listen Yahweh, could you cut a sister some slack and hook me up?” He kinda did as I got a hottish doc who was the attending (no ring, but that means rien). No one could really figure out what was wrong with me. I was about to start screaming “someone get House or the CDC on the horn” until Semi-hot Doc, shot me up full of roids so now I have something in common with A-fraud and Giambi.

While contemplating my “Get me House” phase, it dawned on me that there are certain questions that doctors ask, that I’m tempted to ask back. Like when they ask me my date of birth. I don’t know why but I always want to ask theirs. And when Hottish shyly said, “I hope you don’t take offense to this, but have you ever had an STD?” I was like “well I can see why you would think that since my body basically looks like I’m a walking STD and I look like an ad for ‘no glove, no love,’ but I’m clean as a whistle as they say in Irish Spring Land.” But in the spirit of full disclosure, I wanted to ask him, “have you?” I don’t know what gets into me, but it’s like the devil’s advocate arrives unannounced and uninvited. FYI, I didn’t ask. Probably helped in me getting his cell number in case I had “any questions.” What? He offered and he told me when he got off the next day. Ok, I’m sure it was meant more in the “if you need me call me,” kinda thing rather than in a “I get off at midnight, let’s go for a drink,” but whateves. Also probably helped when I had to leave my private ER room to wait for him to bring me scripts and I told him that I didn’t want to wait in the “coughing room,” and he said he didn’t blame me and took me to another secluded area.

Turns out Hottish and I know the same plastic surgeons (don’t worry I haven’t gone on some Pam Anderson rampage). Rather, I took quite a hit to the noggin last summer in the Hammies, sustained a concussion, and needed to get stitches on my formerly flawless forehead. I had to get the stitches done by the least personable plastic surgeon in the world, maybe he was mad I interrupted his golf game, I don’t know. He did good work, but tried to hit me up for free legal advice while I was getting stitched up (sans pain killers). In the spirit of reciprocity, I asked him how much a face lift was (clearly I don’t need one) and he said “I don’t discuss business on the operating table.” Right, you just try to take advantage of banged up lawyers.

No one at the Southampton hospital would give me pain killers, cruel heartless elitist bastards. I would have to wait until I had an emergency session with McDreamy who pumped me so full of painkillers I made crack whores look like functional members of society. McDreamy’s second act of kindness was to refer me to the HOTTEST man known to walk the planet to have my scar “monitored.” He’s the Chief of Plastics and before you get all judgy, I guarantee you has never had work done because at 42 he’s got just enough lines on his forehead to tell me he’s Botox free and he’s letting his hair go au natural. He’s the type of good looking that it hurts to look at. In a way, looking at him is like looking at the sun. So, I walked into his room, high as a kite and he’s talking all scientific and all I’m thinking is “you should Win People’s Sexiest Man Alive. Would People make an exception for someone who LOOKS like a movie star?” It was like listening to the Charlie Brown teachers talk, I’m hearing hematoma, but all I understand is wah-wah-wa-wah. He also volunteers all over the world doing free cleft palate and reconstructive surgeries and the only boob jobs he does is on former cancer patients. Seriously! I once saw him in scrubs post-op as opposed to his usual Italian suits. H.O.T.N.E.S.S. He puts McSteamy to shame. It’s no wonder he’s single (McDreamy told me and I’ve got a few staff members at the hospital on recon). I’m sure women throw themselves at him…heck I was drugged up on pain meds and looked like a battered woman and I nearly asked him out. I told his secretary that she should’ve warned me how hot he was and she was like “girl you should see it when people come out of general anesthesia, they tell him everything they’ve been thinking about him.” Thankfully, we never had to go that route because I probably would’ve propositioned him for something that’s illegal in like 27 states (whatever that is). I must find out with McSteamy hangs out post-op though!

Even though I met another Hottish doctor, I sadly missed out on what I’m sure was the only safe way to get “leid” in New Jersey (sorry Jersey, I couldn’t resist).