Finally saw Invictus on the plane back from New York. I liked it well enough. However I still don’t understand rugby and it was clear that Clint Eastwood didn’t care.

#14 in progress. Read Foer’s novel, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. Great writer, but ultimately I was a little cold on the nine year old narrator.

Last late night meal. Virgin Pina Coladas and mashed potatoes at Rockefeller Plaza.

Grand Central. 

Shopping on 5th Ave.

Belvedere Castle overlooking Turtle Pond.

Zabars picnic in the park.

Walking in Central Park.

Times Square.

2am shopping at Forever 21 in Times Square. Brittany can’t contain herself. 

1am Cheesecake.

Eating Machines.

Washington Square Park.

Statue of Liberty.

Me at Battery Park.

#41 Done. So good.

Swept away at Battery Park.

At New York’s first public park, Bowling Green.

At the wrong end of the Bull.

Happy Birthday, Pa. I hope you have a day only a dangerous evolutionary such as yourself deserves.

City Lights.

#42 Done. Took the girls to see Blue Man Group in NYC. Always a good time.

Hot Dogs de la cart.

Rush Hour.

California girl, New York attitude.

Walking it out.

Enjoying the view.

On Top of the Rock in NYC.

Woke the neighbors up with that finish. Loving this Cup. Bryant Gumble had a good final thought on the latest Real Sports.

“Finally tonight, a few words about this year’s World Cup. I confess that I love everything about it, particularly, those aspects that many Americans are whining about. Where the game is concerned, I love that they have running time and don’t compromise the flow for the sake of TV commercials.

I love that the referees don’t stop the action to let replays warp their beautiful game and I love that their announcers, unlike Americans, don’t feel the need to characterize everything that’s surprising as also unbelievable.

As for the players, I love how they mimic NBA stars and go down dramatically, as if they have been shot whenever they are fouled. I love the single names: Ronaldo, Kaka, Drogba — all of which sound a lot more elegant than Manny, Pudge and Big Baby.

And, I love the national pride that is shown each game. It’s real and it’s genuine, the kind the Olympics tries to force on us every four years.

Off the field, I love how the crowds never stoop to something as silly as ‘the wave.’ I love the purity of their sidelines — no hangers on, no mascots and best of all, no cheerleaders. I even love the vuvuzelas. Yes, they are noisy, but they are preferable to the deafening din of the weekly Billy Bob 500, or the phony piped in efforts at U.S. arenas, where choreographed chants of ‘dee-fense’ pass for originality.

Lastly, I love that at the World Cup, there are sporting people representing cultures from all over the world and befitting grownups, not a one of them seems obsessed with what conference Texas plays in, whether Brett Favre ever comes back, or where LeBron James ultimately goes. At least we’ve one pocket of sanity, if only for two more weeks.”

Happy Birthday, Madre!

Enjoyed a sunset drive along the PCH.

He wasn’t always a dad.  

The Glamorous Fashion World

California Girl

Lakers viewing party. 

Saw Iron Man 2. A worthy sequel. 

Happy 70th birthday to my Aunt Ona. While my friends went to summer school or camp, I got to go to Aunt Ona’s where the motorcycles were always gassed and pyromania was encouraged.  Best summers of my life.

#15 in progress. Finally finished London: The Biography after starting it before our trip.  

Visited Sean at his soda pop and candy store today where my brother George and sister Rosie are now employed.  Brittany was like a kid in a…

#39 done. The only time I really won this weekend was when I tripled my bets on a hot roll.  But then I went back to my nickel and dime ways my stack started dwindling. Nevertheless, when my lungs recover from the cigarette smoke I’ll be back.

Constant USA chants in Vegas. If it weren’t for my bet on USA to win, I’d be jumping up and down for the draw.