Only in New York

Ever had one of those moments that you think about after the fact and wonder if this stuff happens to other people? I just had one. I'm in New York (which is kick-ass, thank you for the good wishes, bloggy friends!) and I just got done having dinner with my dear pal, J. Well, J's producing a movie and there's a bit of a hubbub about a nudity waiver for an actor doing a masturbation scene (no joke) and all of a sudden we were walking through SoHo having a conversation that I could only ever have had with J at this particular moment in this particular place. It went a little like this, "Well, what is it that she doesn't want to show? Are we talking pubic hair or vag lips here?" "You see, I'm not sure. This is what I have to ask her about. I can't believe I have to be this specific, but the question of parts needs to be asked. Labia, no labia? Vaginal area - what does that specify?" "Hmm, she could be talking about bush, but no actual organ..." and it progressed from there.

Now, we weren't at home in the comfort of our living room, or even behind the closed door of an office somewhere - we were right out there walking down Broadway and we definitely weren't alone. The beauty of this situation is that no one batted an eye or so much as looked back to see who the hell was rather loudly discussing female genitalia. It gets funnier as I think about it. I love New York.

Change of subject - I have my interview tomorrow afternoon for a job I think I want with a company I think I want to work for in a part of town I know I dig. Send good vibes this way. I'll be the cute blonde in the fabulous navy suit and gold heels down in the Financial District. Let's hope they love me. P'shaw, let's hope I love them.