Tonight, we went to Catty Shack. But first I have to tell you about the Stonewall Inn. I cried. I wasn’t the only one. we took a picture for a lesbian couple who were also a lttle bit glazed in the ocular area. We first ate lunch at Yaffa. Foxy was really excited about it, because apparently they have great coffee. If you go there, only get the coffee. The food sucks.

Then we rode the crosstown to Ave of the Americas and went to the Greenwich sidewalk fair. Foxy spilled gross Yaffa on her shirt, so she bought a new one there, then we went to the Stonewall, the site of the riot that started the gay rights movement. The bartender was there that night, or at least he pretends that for the tourists. I welled up several times, because of the historical significance and the pictures of the early 70’s lining the walls. And also, I ordered a Cosmo. Apparently, the book Stonewall is right on, but the movie is full of shit. I fully intend to go back and link all these things later, but if I don’t, what’re you gonna do? This is my New York attitude. I am a cultural chameleon.

After Stonewall, we went to Cubby Hole and had several more drinks, because it was a Manhattan bar with a $2 beer special. Cubby Hole is not a bear bar, which was a surprise to me. It is, in fact, a lesbian bar with shit tons of stuff hanging from the cieling of a 10×30′ room. And also Cubby Hole is where Foxy keeps her sweater and her Nalgene. She told me not to write that. That’s what happens when I post after getting home from 12 hours of drinking and touring.

I would like to point out that, unlike The L Word, New York lesbians are NO MORE ATTRACTIVE than the rest of us. They may be more racially diverse, they may be more aware (but I doubt it) but they are certainly very much normal looking. We found no great haven of incredibly attractive lesbians here. They also dress just like the lesbians you know.

We had dinner at an incredible Italian restaurant which name I can’t remember. Incredible. I had ravioli with boar. Foxy had mozzarela di bufalla. Which proves that she can eat dairy as long as it doesn’t come from a cow.

Then we went to Cattyshack, and I was hoping to run into my fave blogger Curly McDimple, but instead the bathroom door was opened on me, Foxy was ignored at the bar, and Tone Loc skipped on the dance floor. It was nice, and smoke free, except on the balcony, but as previously stated, it was a bar and it had its flaws. No one would talk to us. I mean, I know its New York and all, but this is the first place I have ever been with Foxy where she couldn’t, I mean Could Not, strike up a conversation with someone. Nobody had a light, even if they were smoking. I’m sure we looked like we were from out of town, but talk about insular.

And now, my girlfriend is calling me to bed. Tomorrow, a possible Broadway show and definitely more stories.

Mwah!