20,000 words

For most of July, I was stuck inside the walls of the Beverly Hilton, trying to interview actors and writers and network executives about TV shows I haven't seen yet. It's my job, and I enjoy it. But two weeks in any hotel, even a really nice one, is quite enough.

Fortunately, my soon-to-be wife joined me for the tail end of the press tour, and we got out into the fresh air for a few days after it ended. We drank a lot of good wine, saw a bunch of good friends (and a couple of adorable new additions to that crowd) and had ourselves a general grand old relaxing time.

Here's some photographic proof.

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It's a Helluva Town

It's been so long since I checked in here that really, everything clever I had thought of to say (And who'm I kidding? The clever bar's pretty low.) has long since vanished from my head in a haze of sleep deprivation and wedding planning.

I did, however, want to mention our great trip to New York last month. We were both in town for work, and stayed the weekend -- and to the wonderful Jeffrey and Peyton I say (a) thank you for putting us up, and (b) we need to see you guys more. Oh, and (c) I want that recipe for chicken and green olive tagine.

There were many highlights:

I finally got to meet the great Keith Marder. Albeit in what amounted to a windstorm. But can't wait to see you again.

And got to spend some time with the great Mary Hood. That doesn't happen often enough either. And next time I might be persuaded to go to Hoboken with you, Mary. Or to the truck stop.

The Superhero exhibit at the Met. Sweet. And Jean Paul Gaultier and Thierry Mugler are either insane or brilliant. I haven't figured it out yet. But since I buy clothes at Target, what I think about this probably doesn't matter much anyway.

Rice to Riches. We live right near some incredibly good gelato, but I have to say that if I ever get enough nickels to rub together, I totally want to open a franchise of this place. If you haven't been -- run, don't walk, to Mott and Spring.

Chris Robinson. I am a sucker for a good celebrity sighting, and as I am a proud member of Team Robinson -- even though everyone knows it's always a mistake to join a band with your brother -- this was awesome.

Gray's Papaya. Best recession special ever.

Brunch with the peeps -- including Zev, one of the coolest tiny men I've ever met. Yelling "Hi, Mo Blow!" has now become a daily staple in our house.


Plus, we found some insanely good fares to New York from Richmond -- so we'll be back. And soon.

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An evening with John Oliver

We shed our proud-townie status for a couple hours last Friday and headed over to campus -- pardon me, "Grounds" -- to hear Daily Show correspondent and real-live British person John Oliver deliver a fine set of stand-up (happily, we were not the oldest people in the room; a fair number of other grownups attended too).

Now, writing about a comedy performance and trying to impart just how funny the guy was is probably an exercise in futility. Even if I had perfect recall or had surreptitiously taped the show, transcribing his bit about how he updated the Wikipedia entries for several political figures ("Sen. Richard Lugar could have been the greatest swimmer in Olympic history but for the fact that he's soluble in water") wouldn't come across quite as funny on the screen.

Nor could I do justice to his story about the moment that he realized he would be a comic, and not an athlete (it involved a 400-meter race, a cool breeze and a flap on the front of his shorts) . Because you still couldn't have seen the look on his face as he recounted the horrible tale, coming off like Harry Potter's hangdog older brother.

And I really don't know how to describe his partner-in-comedy Andy Zaltzman, with whom he hosts a podcast for The Times of London and did a show for BBC Radio called The Department.

What I can tell you, though, that if John Oliver comes to your town, you should go see him. Dude was really, really funny.

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