Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

People think midsommers eve is all about frolicking around a may pole like a bunch of dew fairies, all spirit fingers and butterfly wings. Yeah, no. It’s an outdoor mixed martial arts smackdown set to polka music. It is frankly lawless underneath that pole: people teaming up, holding hands and skipping over the weak. I almost got mowed down by a really machiavellian old lady in a peasant costume. As the Scandinavian Club’s default organizer, my original intention was to have everybody meet up by this landmark in Battery Park: That didn’t work out so well, but I did accomplish my goal of sending a photo of majestic bronze boob balls to my legions of Scandinavian Club members, thus locking down my reputation as an erudite patron of the arts. Again this year, Laura amazed the crowd by turning out some beautiful flower crowns for herself and Amy. She needs to open up a kiosk. Last year, before I finally gave up and Laura saved me, my crown consisted of a smallish clumped ball of

On the occasion of my surprise birthday party, the OC Girls, Kenny, Tom & Michael round-tabled the Subject Bidet over dinner at Cookshop: “ I have very limited experience with bidets. They scare me. I wouldn’t want to flood the house.” “You can just splash around in there. Usually there’s an adjustable faucet head. The bidet comes with a soap dish and a special towel rack.” “I would approach any towel in the proximity of the bidet with extreme caution.” “I just tripled my knowledge of bidets. This is all news.” “I turned a bidet on once and it gurgled. I thought bidets were supposed to shoot up like a fountain.” “Can someone ask our waiter to weigh in on this?” “I’m going to find a bidet manual on you tube.” “Are we still talking about bidets?” “Yes, there’s a lot to talk about.” “Why is the man in the bidet instruction video shirtless? You don’t have to take your shirt off to use a bidet.” “I would not want a toilet that transforms into a bidet. That is simply wrong.” “I’m really

I make it a point to know very little about an extremely wide range of topics; this is how I stay objective. I’m like the ombudsman of fact-free opinion rendering. Given the level of my notoriety in this specialty area, I was unsurprised when no one asked me to record my observations and/or insights relative to the Gotham Girls Roller Derby bout last night. Things to remember to bring next time: Bleacher Cushion Pizza Pinocle deck Roller derby is transcendental when it comes to the passage of time. Fanhood requires rising above such trivialities as an hour here, an hour there. What is 90 minutes of clenching your hiney on a wooden bleacher waiting for the opening bell when in the proximity of so many fine athletes dressed up like dominatrixes? On deck for the bout were Queens of Pain vs Manhattan Mayhem. The Queens of Pain had the practice track first. They spilled out of the locker room decked out in some incredibly stylish black spandex set-ups. A few sported reckless hotpants in a