By using my PCP doctor's name, I was able to make a GYN appointment with Dr. P for January. Hope he/she (hard to tell; Indian name) still takes my insurance by then.
Gristede's had Minute Maid raspberry passion.
I can see movies just fine with my contacts.
And, yes, I breathed the same air as George Clooney and Brad Pitt. Except I never saw them - or Angelina Jolie, Casey Affleck or any of the other celebs at the New York premiere of "The Assassination of Jesse James."
There they are!
My TV organization had tickets for this event at the Ziegfeld and despite my dislike of Westerns, I had to go due to the celebrity excitement factor. The sidewalk was lined with paparazzi, fans were barricaded across the street, and there was a platform for photo-taking, so this looked promising. I found M, we picked up our tickets at the will-call tent, and were ushered immediately inside. This was a nice change from the usual line.
Also unusual was the assigned seating, the fact that tickets were under our individual names instead of "and guest," and the fact that my seat was in row F and his was in the balcony in HH. This happened to several people. It turned out there were available seats near both locations but we didn't know that at the time.
There was an hour to kill before showtime. I wished I had my iPod since it was too dark to read (I couldn't read anyway with these contacts), M was far away, and how many times can you watch Alberta tourism slides. As the place filled, heads swiveled looking for stars. Someone in back of me swore he saw George Clooney (pitter-patter), and that turned out to be true.
There was no intro of the movie or the stars, it just started. The movie was a Western with lots of violence, where nobody trusted anyone and it felt like people could be shot at any moment. Women existed mostly to serve food. Not for me.
Afterward, we hung around in the refreshment area (where they'd had free soda, water and popcorn) and outside, and still didn't see anyone.
We went to a diner but they were only serving dessert and coffee, so had pizza (yum, white) at a neighborhood place. Before we were done they started mopping the floors and putting the chairs up on the tables. Hint, hint. Someone came in at that point and was asked, "For here, or to go?" Tough choice, unless you like the smell of ammonia with your pizza. At that moment, Brad was probably drinking champagne out of Angelina's shoe at the afterparty.