A New York State of Wetsday

Oh, my darlings. You cannot imagine the bliss I am experiencing right now. I am at the fabulous Romance Writers of America in New York City! Yes, God help the Big Apple, West Tallahassee has landed in Manhattan!

I am loving it so far. For a Southern girl, I am terribly impatient and I don’t suffer fools gladly. I have a propensity to roll my eyes and sigh deeply when other people’s lack of planning becomes my problem. At home, this is very, very bad. My mother despaired of me, and was constantly telling me to “be sweet.” But here in NYC, I am sweet. Patient and mannerly, too. When the New Yorkers start shoving and cursing, my eyerolling looks quite ladylike. Damn. My mother would be so proud.

One thing I don’t quite understand though. This is supposed to be a big city with all the high-powered corporations, right? So what the *%#! is wrong with the internet and cell phones here? I can get free wi-fi in downtown Pensacola or Tallahassee. Why am I fighting to get online in NYC? No service, poor connections, and slow, slow, slow!. I’ve been trying all day to get this blog up. Hope it works this time.

I was briefly puzzled by the wide range of available selections for today’s guest, too. Which of the attractive gentlemen identified with NYC should be featured in all his moist pulchritude? I considered Sinatra, DiNiro, Eli Manning, Derek Jeter – even the Naked Cowboy! But when I thought of our guest today, I knew at once he was it.

Nothing says NYC to me quite like Saturday Night Live. As a li’l redneck growing up on Highway 20 in North Florida, I would stay up late to see the edgy, irreverent skits by the Not Ready for Primetime Players. I loved the musical guests – people I could only imagine ever seeing in person. And the fact that my parents disapproved of it made it even more appealing.

No one is more representative of Saturday Night Live, both the real show and its fictional counterpart, 30 Rock, than dear Alec Baldwin. Yes, I know he got a bad rap with the whole ugly divorce. But seriously, can you imagine what it must have been like to be married to Kim Basinger? And the cussing at his daughter during a custody dispute? I’m just glad Sir William, the Lord of the Far Junior College, has never recorded me when my girls piss me off. So let’s cut Alec some slack, okay?

And he has really aged quite well — I’d give him an 8 on my personal getting-old scale(which has Colin Firth as 10 and Mel Gibson as 0). But for real drop-dead gorgeousness, let’s take a little stroll down memory lane – Here’s Alec as I first knew him, back in the Eighties:

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4 Responses

  1. Glad you’re having fun; sorry about the internet connection! You mentioned phones too, so *whimper* does that mean no Twitter fixes during your visit?

    Absorb it all and best of luck with your pitches! You’ll have to tell us EVERYTHING when you get back! lol

    Give ’em some South, Ro’mama! Give it to ’em Arabella Stokes style!

  2. Nice. He was always a little hairy for my taste. Lol.

    • That’s when you know it’s love! I never liked hairy men until my hubby. And he has so much red-gold body hair he GLOWS with his own personal aura in the sunshine! lol

  3. I’m so glad you’re having a great time. I’m insanely jealous right now. 🙂

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