Fung...wah?

I took the Chinatown bus up to Boston this weekend to see my uber-talented friend Lanna display her uber-talents in Heather Raffo's 9 Parts of Desire up at Lyric Stage Company. For some reason, I tend to attract the most unpleasant dramatis personae when it comes to bus travel. This trip was no exception, and included The Guy Who Liked To Sing Out Loud and Off-Key Whilst Listening To His iPod and The Guy Who Enjoyed Defying Conventional Notions of Personal Space.

Fungwah adventures aside, it was a lovely weekend in Boston, the autumn sunlight giving an orangey glow to all the Abercrombie-clad frat boys and well-dressed liberals walking their St. Bernards on Newbury Street. Did I mention that my friend Lanna is super talented?

Now I'm back in the city and killing time before Liz and I head off to see Imogen Heap at Webster Hall--which I haven't been to since an unfortunate incident my senior year of college, where a group of us decided to go clubbing there (for what reason I can't recall) and a particularly fiesty member of our crew got into a huge fight with the bouncer, at which point we were given our money back and told to leave. Ah, college.