Amber and I finished unpacking. Well, not really... more like, we finished dumping out the boxes. During our unpacking marathon, a french chick who found her way to our apartment door said that she saw the moving truck, and wanted to know if she could have our boxes. Smart. We should have done that. Boxes cost an arm and a butt cheek up here. I felt highly swindled every time I left the box merchant's store. A homeless man couldn't come close to affording one of those suckers for shelter. Sheesh. Anyways, the French chick came back the second day for a second round of boxes and confessed to me that she can't pronounce my name. She says "Sep" instead of "Seth." I assured her it was a common occurrence. To jump the name hurdle, she said she refers to Amber and I as "September." We thought that was funny.
Amber's folks came into town today and we went out to eat at a rather swanky restaurant on 67th street. In the back of the restaurant, not 20 feet away, sat Liam Neeson. Then next 20 minutes or so were spent trying to covertly snap a shot of Liam whilst he ate. Alas, none could be snapped. I tried a quick one as he walked by our table to exit but I only got the blurr of his nose and his date. Then, not 5 minutes after he left, Regis walked in and sat at the same table in the back. His wife joined him and Amber took up the task of photographing him as he chowed. Again, a failed venture. Oh well. Both Liam and Regis live across the street from the restaurant in a swanky high-rise. I know why these people want to live in NYC. New Yorkers really do leave these people be. At first I thought that everyone else in the restaurant had been living in a cave for the past 20 years as it seemed that no one cared or recognized them. But after they left everyone just buzzed around about it.
Two things: Both Liam and Regis looked sort of sad and they both looked older than what you see on the tube. Liam looked very tired. However, he is still one big dude.
Anywho, off to bible study at the crack-hole of dawn. Good times.
P.S. I love the private deck. LOVE it. A prayer garden it shall become. I also predict many a frothy drink shall be consumed on said deck.
Goodnight.
4 comments:
Correction: The photo that you made me take with your iPhone was successful. You can see Regis clearly enough. In the first pic, that is. The second attempt...not so much. He was hiding his face nonchalantly by resting his face on his hand which oh-so-cooly covered the side of his face that shown my direction. In that picture his wife is staring right into the photo. Obviously, I was found out by the pair. And obviously, if you and I are now considered New Yorkers, then we have given the city-goers and this particular restaurant a bad reputation in regards to leaving celebrities be.
Clint Eastwood was often in the burger joint in Carmel, California where I used to go every Friday night after work, and nobody bothered him. In fact, that region of California (Monterey/Carmel/Pebble Beach) has a lot of rich/famous people who live there, and one of the things they like about the area is that nobody makes a big deal or messes with them. No paparazzi or fussing allowed.
If you want fuss and bother, that's what LA is for. I can see why all the Noo Yawkers wouldn't care for all the fuss, either. Doesn't strike me as being consistent with their attitudes or lifestyles.
Remember the big ruckus we saw around the Hard Rock Cafe, when Nanx wanted to get in to buy a shirt but couldn't because Willie Nelson was there? I overheard several of the annoyed passers-by commenting something to the effect that all those people gathered must have been tourists because the real New Yorkers could care less (but they said it in more colorful language than that).
Isn't Liam married to Natasha Richardson?
Yes! That was her. Again, too lazy to do the research. I have a pic of her, but only a blur of Liam.
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