I continued to traipse through the West Village, hitting my favorite haunts: the 100-year-old coffee shop, the herbal apothecary. By the time I got to Soho, my mojo was rising. And just in time, too: I got an eyeful of Monica Lewinsky on Prince Street. I noticed her simply because she was pretty and not scary-thin. Good show, Monica!
It was all I could do to drag myself home after such excitement. Waving my arms like a scythe, I cut a swath through the rest of Soho and beat it back to the LES.
The absolute best part of Celebrity Weekend was Sunday, though. Passing the Living Room on Ludlow, I noticed a familiar name on the easel: Ron Sexsmith. Ron? At 10? Dude, a secret show! And you-know-who was right up there in the front row, snuffling through "Strawberry Blonde."
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