King Ryan in the Big Apple
I finally met my nephew Ryan this weekend. He has a Friendster page.
I've been acting as his nanny this weekend. Apparently the title for a male nanny is a "manny." Some men might be embarrassed to contemplate life as a manny, but I'm not going to turn my nose up at the idea, especially if I can make millions writing The Manny Diaries.
Ryan is a city baby. He loves exploring the sidewalks of New York in his stroller. I tried walking around with him strapped into the Baby Bjorn. That thing is pretty darn nifty. Sharon said that when Jeff walks around town with Ryan in the Baby Bjorn, women flock to him. I think it's because Jeff is a model, but Ryan is undeniably cute. I actually think he looks like me as a baby in a lot of ways, though we're all hoping he grows up to look like Jeff.
The other reason I'm in Manhattan is as a late surprise visit for Alan's 30th b-day. He was on call last night, and I was hoping the nurses would let me change into a hospital gown and wait in one of the rooms for Alan to come by, but Sharon and I just ran into Alan while roaming the halls of the Weill Medical Center.
James and Jeff and Jen took me out last night. We went to one of those New York bar/clubs where the name isn't listed out front. Apparently we were there for someone's birthday. That's what people in NYC do, they go to bars/clubs for people's birthdays. We weren't the only ones there for a birthday, either. There were some four or five birthday parties there. Of course, we never found out whose birthday it was.
I knew I was in NYC because the everyone was dressed up, everyone was standing around, the music was really loud, and it was really dark. Also, I bought two glasses of Black Label on the rocks and it cost $26 before tips. C'mon, brother, at least fill the glasses for that price!
The DJ was pretending to be spinning some turntables, but really he was just playing songs he had burned onto CD-Rs. A few dropped on the ground and James passed them around. They had labels like "New Hip Hop" and "Missy getting shizzy". He looked incredibly foolish pretending to do real work up there.
Tonight I'm taking Alan to the U.S. Open Women's Final. Justine Henin-Hardenne was listed as questionable earlier because she cramped up after her 3-hour marathon against Capriati, but she better get her Belgian butt out there. Alan and I are big Henin-Hardenne fans because she hits a beautiful one-handed backhand. So few one-handers anymore. So few real DJs. Old school.
I've been acting as his nanny this weekend. Apparently the title for a male nanny is a "manny." Some men might be embarrassed to contemplate life as a manny, but I'm not going to turn my nose up at the idea, especially if I can make millions writing The Manny Diaries.
Ryan is a city baby. He loves exploring the sidewalks of New York in his stroller. I tried walking around with him strapped into the Baby Bjorn. That thing is pretty darn nifty. Sharon said that when Jeff walks around town with Ryan in the Baby Bjorn, women flock to him. I think it's because Jeff is a model, but Ryan is undeniably cute. I actually think he looks like me as a baby in a lot of ways, though we're all hoping he grows up to look like Jeff.
The other reason I'm in Manhattan is as a late surprise visit for Alan's 30th b-day. He was on call last night, and I was hoping the nurses would let me change into a hospital gown and wait in one of the rooms for Alan to come by, but Sharon and I just ran into Alan while roaming the halls of the Weill Medical Center.
James and Jeff and Jen took me out last night. We went to one of those New York bar/clubs where the name isn't listed out front. Apparently we were there for someone's birthday. That's what people in NYC do, they go to bars/clubs for people's birthdays. We weren't the only ones there for a birthday, either. There were some four or five birthday parties there. Of course, we never found out whose birthday it was.
I knew I was in NYC because the everyone was dressed up, everyone was standing around, the music was really loud, and it was really dark. Also, I bought two glasses of Black Label on the rocks and it cost $26 before tips. C'mon, brother, at least fill the glasses for that price!
The DJ was pretending to be spinning some turntables, but really he was just playing songs he had burned onto CD-Rs. A few dropped on the ground and James passed them around. They had labels like "New Hip Hop" and "Missy getting shizzy". He looked incredibly foolish pretending to do real work up there.
Tonight I'm taking Alan to the U.S. Open Women's Final. Justine Henin-Hardenne was listed as questionable earlier because she cramped up after her 3-hour marathon against Capriati, but she better get her Belgian butt out there. Alan and I are big Henin-Hardenne fans because she hits a beautiful one-handed backhand. So few one-handers anymore. So few real DJs. Old school.