I went to the hybrid Dunkin' Donuts/Blimpies before seeing Leaves of Glass (with Euan Morton) at Theater Row of Doom yesterday, and it was their last night in business. I hope they were driven out by all the nearby Starbucks', and not that we've just lost our interest in coffee and doughnuts.

Anyway, there was a middle-aged Hispanic man saying his good-byes and shaking the managers' hands and it turns out he's worked there for eight and a half years. He probably showed up every single day and left making little more than minimum wage. Which reminded me that there are people with real problems in this world, and I'm not one of them. So I've been thinking about him and hoping he lands somewhere good soon.

Boy, not everyone thought The American Plan was as bad as I did--Ben Brantley loved it. But I read his review and it didn't make me think oh yeah, I never looked at it that way, nor did he talk about any subtleties I missed. Except for his saying that Lily Rabe is extremely attractive (he mentioned it twice). She's one of these praying mantis blondes, perhaps very attractive, but I didn't know from the show that she was supposed to be. So perhaps it comes down to taste.

I had my first tooth pulled this morning, and I've been feeling very sad, and prophalactically embarrassed, about it for the past two weeks. The dentist had a huge CD collection, so I asked him to put on Simon & Garfunkel because I listened to their greatest hits while walking in the park Sunday and was struck at the perfect crafting of the songs and the transcendence of Art Garfunkel's voice. I hope I haven't conditioned myself to have sore gums now when I hear them. (Actual, so far it's not too bad, but I'm still a little numb, and I have Vicodin standing by.) As I was in the chair, I finally thought of the positive spin I could put on it (apart from being grateful that for only a lot of money, eventually I'll have a pretty good replacement because I have good dentists and healthy bone): I'm not getting older, my remains are getting easier to identify.

East side!! The youts of Brooklyn seem to be, based on their behavior at the showing of "Notorious" I just saw, pro-Biggie. They jumped up and danced and rapped along to the songs, and here's the creepy part--the crowd went absolutely berserk whenever anyone attacked a woman. I mean happy-berserk. It reminded me of when I saw "The Last Boy Scout" at Union Station shortly after I moved to Washington. In the opening sequence, a guy scores a touchdown and somebody shoots him in the end zone. (Of the playing field, not his ass.) And the crowd applauded. Which happened routinely in movies when somebody got shot. Anyway, this was kind of Brooklyn's version of Sing-Along "Sound of Music".

I am now a certified volunteer income tax assistant, intermediate level. This required a couple of weeks of on-line study and a full day of instruction Sunday up in Harlem. This is a picture of the historic Apollo Theater, which like everything, looked lovely in a fresh coat of snow and smaller than you'd think. Other observations about Harlem: there was no yogurt to be had, bananas cost a quarter, quite the deal, I thought, andwhile I'd been looking forward to soul food, all that was handy was McDonald's, Dunkin', and Popeye's, aside from the very limited selection in the bodegas. Fortunately, I don't think I've had an egg McMuffin in ten years, and it was fantastic!

Back to the IRS thing, when I left the Food Bank office (that's who's sponsoring the tax clinics, these people have no food, no way to do their taxes, do their problems never cease?) I had the strangest feeling, I'd worked hard at something I wasn't at all sure I'd be successful at, but I was. It was, dare I name it? A feeling of accomplishment? I'll probably be assigned to the Sunset Park office south of me, so I bought a little book of Spanish pleasantries just to enable me to be a little more personable. Our clients average $12,000 income for single people and $18,000 for families. This is in the NYC, y'all.

The teacher was a retired IRS guy who shared these fun facts: the most tax anyone has ever charged to a credit card was $7 million, which they assume was on a card that gets frequent flier miles. And the biggest check they've ever gotten "I can't tell you who it was, but you'd recognize the last name" was for $800,000,000. "Was the name Trump?" someone in the audience asked. Girl, please, he ain't that kind of rich! If I had to wager, I'd say Rockefeller. Anyway, the manager of the Fresno processing center hopped on a plane Sunday night when they opened the check, and flew it to New York (where the bank it was drawn on is) in order to cash in on the four days of interest they'd have lost during the float if they'd deposited it in California. Here's my question--according to our materials, if you owe more than $1,000 at tax time, you're subject to penalties for either not having sufficient withholding or paying the correct estimated taxes. So I wonder what the penalty is on a tax bill larger than the entire domestic product of Belize?

I scored a $4 ticket to The American Plan, a Broadway show in previews, tonight and thought I'd dress up a little. You know, to make the full-fare chumps believe it's really special to see a Broadway show in previews. Well, not only was this play a piece of crap--two guys who seem super-gay are--but it's colder than a witch's tit out there! And me with the gams!

So did you all hear about the plane that ditched in the Hudson river today and everyone survived? That's some excellent piloting and flight attending there.

Two people on the subway the other day, two unrelated people, sitting across the aisle from one another, were reading books on which Kate Winslet movies are based, The Reader and Revolutionary Road.

Have you ever tasted tabouleh so good that you exclaimed, "This is the best tabouleh I've ever had!"? Then go to Whole Foods and get some.

Overheard on the subway yesterday, "It's just a movement, ya dig?"

Over-read on same, "I feel ya. It's all good."

My second year NYEve tradition: seven minutes of full-field of vision fireworks in Prospect Park. With "Love, American style/Truer than the red, white, and blue-oo--oo--oo!" running through my head the whole time.