Last night I was at Versailles for my friend Jill's birthday party when Steven Seagal walked in. I have to imagine that later, after we'd finished dinner, when the waiters turned down the lights and filed out and sing Happy Birthday to Jill, Steven watched, silent and contemplative, hands in their signature pose, until when all the other diners in the restaurant applauded, his inner peace at Jill's having been born finally allowed him to draw his hands apart slowly, inevitably, and then strike them against each other in a single clap that resounded in the spirits of those nearby.

Also, the trained midget that accompanied Tim Robbins to Coach & Horses after his show at the Knitting Factory hit on my girlfriend in a creepy-but-humorous-just-because-he's-a-midget-oh-wait-no-it's-creepy-again-yes-because-he's-a-midget way a couple nights before that.