A truly lazy Sunday. Yesterday was lazy too. I didn’t have to work at Farfetched since I had switched working on Monday instead. I took Bill to see the Manhattan Transfer at the Blue Note Jazz Club in the Village. Bill saw them about 20 years ago at Radio City and I felt it might be fun to see them in a more intimate setting. I planned this a few months ago and I was surprised I was able to keep it a secret for so long, but Bill was preoccupied with many things so it wasn’t very difficult. And it was a reason to get dressed up.

The original plan was that I was going to work at Farfetched from 11:00 to 6:30, and I was going to do that in a suit and tie. Susan came up with the idea to switch days so it worked out fine for all concerned. Bill had his rehearsal for a play that is going to be performed in February and then his vocal coach and was supposed to meet me at Farfetched, both looking dapper. I thought he knew but apparently forgot or wasn’t listening since I was home when he called asking if he could go the way he was dressed.

Blue Jeans and a faded Nuyorican Poets Café sweatshirt. I told him if that is what he wanted to wear that would be fine. I was going to be dressed up. He came home with some brownies and offered me two. I took one, leaving the other for later on as I was about to jump into the shower. I started to get dressed and Bill saw what I was wearing so he decided to get dressed up as well. I got a phone call from Julio, inviting me to stop by before we left.

I went down to Julio’s where he was hanging out with Simon a Danish friend staying at Claire’s apartment. Simon had procured some Moroccan spice which he was rolling into a nice Scandinavian Spliff. Had a swig from a beer and a puff and I was feeling fine as Bill stopped by and we were out the door soon after. We got to the Path train which was filled with people heading into the city on a Saturday night. It was jam packed as we stood and chatted getting off at the Ninth Street station.

I thought it would be a good idea to walk along Washington Square to throw off any ideas that Bill might be having and were online outside the Blue Note in no time. The doorman saw me and asked for my name and I told him, to which he said, ‘follow me’. Apparently we were VIP’s and were soon escorted to a prime, yet cramped table about 10 feet from the stage.

The Manhattan Transfer came out and sang beautifully for about 90 minutes. I remember seeing them on TV in the seventies and I could’ve sworn both of the guys were gay, though Alan Paul, the younger looking guy dedicated a song to Angela, his wife of 25 years. Okay…

We were back in Hoboken by 10:00. Julio and Simon had come back from getting some food and I joined them for about 45 minutes before heading back upstairs. I was focused on the other brownie but all I could find was the empty bag. Turns out Bill ate all of them, thinking that I had both of mine. I just went to bed.

Let me start off by saying there were no bonuses given out and no gifts either at the McMann and Tate holiday party. It was a good party. I left the apartment last night after writing last night’s entry. I had a beer before I left and was feeling quite nice. Got to the city, looking fly I must say. Or perhaps banging. I walked through Washington Square Park, towards Soho. The party was at a gallery at 446 Broadway on the fifth floor. To my surprise they successfully pulled it off. By the time I got up stairs the party was in full swing.

It was a good year financially for McMann and Tate though I have my doubts I will be sharing in that pie. That’s up to them and I am ambivalent about getting bonuses since I rarely get them. Lot’s of friendly faces, everyone in a good mood and many people telling me how much they will miss me, my dark sense of humor, my quotes on the morning announcement. Some people told me they thought I was doing a good job and they were sorry to see me go. I told them I wished they had told me that a month earlier.
Basically when people asked why I was leaving I told them it was because I was burnt out.

Also because I was on the receiving end of more negativity than positivity. It didn’t matter, I had a good time nonetheless. The McMann and Taters looking very nice in their James Bond attire. I opted for a Sharkskin suit by Phat Farm. I looked great and mingled with everyone while drinking a Stella Artois and occasionally dancing. Smoked a jazz cigarette with a few Taters, and even joined one or two in the bathroom a couple of times for some Freudian excess.

When I first interviewed for McMann and Tate, I was interviewed by a woman named Susie. She used to work at the office and I think she once held my job. It was ironic that she would turn up on my last outing with McMann and Tate. She asked what had happened and I told her, once again that I was burned out. She seemed to understand and offered me her business card. Surprisingly a few employees told me that they plan to leave McMann and Tate in the upcoming months.

Found out that a few coworkers are pregnant so that will also be a shake up in the office. I sure picked a good time to leave. I’m glad I gave them notice and didn’t leave them hanging, though it was tempting.

Lizzie Borden was there with her boyfriend, Michael. She’s great, he’s a nice guy and I felt compelled to state my hipster credentials to him, emphasizing that I use to work at McSwells back in the day. One too many trips to the loo with others probably brought on that fit of paranoia. He just laughed. I was supposed to hang out with Juan who was up for the night and to my eternal gratitude, he came into the city and picked me up and drove me home where we wound up hanging out, drinking beers and playing music for each other until 4:00AM. He slept over and left this morning. What a great guy.

Thanks Juan!