I just returned from a weekend in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, at the wedding of my dear friends Doug and Leora. Doug I have known for about a decade at this point, and it was several years ago while training for our second AIDS Ride that we both had the pleasure of meeting Leora. It has always been clear that they were a good fit for each other, particularly when he brought her to OJ for the first time to meet our group of college friends. We're a little hard to bust into from the outside, and I've always known that the right guy for me will be one who would fit in at OJ, our annual fall getaway weekend -- if he didn't like the weekend, or my friends, or if my friends didn't like him, he would be out. I know Doug felt the same way, so when Leora blended in seamlessly, it was like a seal of approval. Training for another ride the following year, I got to know Leora even better as we chatted away the miles (she and I ride about the same pace; Doug's somewhat faster), and to develop a friendship with her beyond just as "Doug's girlfriend."

Joining them to celebrate their wedding was a reaffirmation of my initial impressions of their relationship -- they fit perfectly together, and it was such a treat to take part in a wedding that truly celebrated this fit, filled with love, laughter, joy, friends, family and tears. Congratulations to both of you -- enjoy the next leg of the ride.

You can see the rest of the pictures here, and read PlanetGordon for the backstory on the wedding.

I am convinced that dating in New York is different from dating in other parts of the world. Let's do a case study, shall we?

Girl meets boy at her local neighborhood joint, chatting amiably over dinner at the bar, each having brought, but then ignored, their respective reading materials (she, the New Yorker; he, the Economist or some such). Girl's friends show up, strategically tricking boy to stay for about twenty minutes longer than he initially intended, and to drink more wine (girl's friends are fantastic wingpeople). Boy invites girl to go see a band on the LES (she has convinced him to go see this particular band rather than the one he initially chose because they rock, and her neighbor's in it). Girl expresses interest, but politely declines, since it is already 11:45 on a school night. "Some other time, perhaps?" says girl, coyly. Boy and girl exchange business cards and go their separate ways, each going away for the weekend.

Boy emails girl the following week, scoring major points with girl. After polite back and forth email banter about how good the band was, boy and girl agree to go out for a drink, dinner, or possibly even to see another band. Then, the scheduling negotiations begin. The negotiations are frustrated by a) girl's busy social life; b) boy's demanding work schedule; c) the impending Republican invasion, during which the girl is getting the hell out of Dodge; d) girl's trip to the wedding in Wisconsin; e) boy's business school alumni event on the one night she has free this week and work-related dinner on the one night she'll be in town between the wedding and the aforementioned escape; f) boy's current affliction with poison ivy, which he contracted during last weekend's out of town jaunt; g) all of the above.

Boy and girl plan to go out for a drink in early 2005.

As I walked to and from work yesterday, I noticed more and more signs which indicated that New Yorkers are gearing up for the convention. None quite as obvious as the one I saw last week, but effective nonetheless.

And also, for your downloading pleasure, even more: RNCNotWelcome.org

Tonight, it's all about the pictures. I just returned from a relaxing, food and fun-filled beach weekend on Fire Island, thanks to my friend Carrie. Now, I've always shied away from share houses -- images of frat-partyesque Hamptons houses come to mind. And although there were bunk beds, and not everyone did their fair share of the dishes, the house in Kismet was mellow, the people were friendly, fun, interesting, and best of all, they loved to cook and eat. Dinner upon our arrival was spicy sausages and cajun catfish on the grill, cocktail hour on Saturday included fresh peach margaritas, and Saturday's dinner was a pork loin, roasted on the rotisserie, rubbed with fresh herbs, garlic, and olive oil, accompanied by stuffed portabello mushrooms with pesto and roasted potatoes. Mmm. I had a very relaxing weekend, and enjoyed being out at the beach, despite the torrential downpours on Saturday. You can see the pictures here. If you're from the house and have stopped by to see the pictures, leave a comment or send me an email. Thanks again to everyone!

From Cewebrity! (we love to love 'em) to this (we love to hate 'em):

courtesy of Hugh at Gaping Void

I'm off to Fire Island for the weekend -- have a good one!

From my friend Rob this morning: "I would get along with this bear." Perhaps we should invite him to join the wine club society?

Because I know that's what you really want, anyway. The fun part about going out with bloggers, even if it's just a casual night out for wings, is that whatever silly, goofy thing you do, it's all over the internet the next day.

The wings per person consumption chart.

Some of the lovely ladies who blog.

And Joe, I love, love, love the chart.

Saw this while walking down 7th Avenue yesterday -- it was being put up by "Steel Workers for John Kerry."

Later that night, ran into Augie who was sporting his own political statement.

We're ready for you republican types. How do ya like them apples?!

And you're all invited! Join me for "There's a Party in my Panties!" -- an evening of cocktails and vintage lingerie at the Tainted Lady Lounge. Tainted Lady Lounge, 318 Grand Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Thursday, August 19, 2004, 8:00 PM. Sponsored by Hottpants, Nichelle Newsletter, and the Vicar's Vice. Click here to RSVP and I'll see you there.

First of all, wanted to share two articles this week in NYC press that piqued my interest. First, the Village Voice's Butt Seriously, identifying "white girls with big butts" as the new "in" look. Well that's a relief. For me, it's sure cheaper than buying a trendy poncho or one of those maternity-looking tops that seem to be all the rage -- I've already got one handy. Second, Newsday's Open Door Policy on doormen hooking up their single tenants. Now, I tip my doormen as much as I can reasonably afford, and I certainly don't have them pimping for me. Note to self: try to save more cash for holiday tips.

Last night, I had the pleasure of meeting my "outer" at Lindsay's blackout anniversary party. He seems to be a pretty nice, laid back guy, despite the goth makeup (he was sort of tricked into wearing goth makeup, actually -- some degree of confusion about whether or not it was a costume party. The hostess had a fantastic blonde wig that she wanted to wear . . .). You can see his photo gallery from the party here -- and yes, I'm wearing a pink prom dress (the one from New Year's Eve).

Today, I'm off to Blues, BBQ & Fireworks to snarf some ribs. Check out Gothamist Food tomorrow for the full report.

UPDATE: I forgot to mention two more highlights of the weekend, which I wanted to include, at least for posterity's sake. First, I had dinner at my baby brother's new crib in Brooklyn -- he cooked a kick-ass salmon with a pecan crust (need that recipe). Second, I had a surprise out-of-town visitor who took me to the Lebowskifest at the Knitting Factory. Now, I felt like a bit of a fraud, as I have only seen The Big Lebowski once, but I had a great time nonetheless, with drunk guys (there was about a 4-to-1 male/female ratio) quoting lines all around me. Definitely need to rent that one again soon.