It sounds humdrum, I know ...

My Saturday in New York, as told by Ryan Haddad:

9:00 AM: Breakfast at a sidewalk bistro eating french pastries and drinking mimosas while discussing the merits of an individual health care mandate

11:00 AM: Leisurely stroll about Central Park set to a Gin Blossoms song, where you buy a snow cone from a vendor and then share a "I'm such a klutz" laugh with the vendor when the top falls off

1:00 PM: You spend some time at MoMa arguing about the primal eroticism of Georgia O'Keefe with a sexy but proper feminist

4:00 PM: Drinks on a rooftop terrace with a multi-ethnic group of friends whose careers range from big shot investment bankers to struggling playwrights

6:00 PM Dinner where you are invited to join the table of John Varvatos by an mutual acquaintance, and he tells you how much he admires the Pitt Script and laments dinokitty

9:00 PM: Probably some Broadway show, a re-imagining of Fences, set in 25th century Guam that includes a lot of full frontal male nudity set to the music of Mika

11:00 PM: You put on your best scarf, skinny jeans, and beanie, and catch a Minus The Bear show in an underground music club that you can only get to by going throw the kitchen of a Vietnamese restaurant after saying the password. The password is arugula panini

1:45 AM: VIP at the 40-40 club, where Kanye tries to interrupt your conversation, but you brush him off, because you are deep in conversation with Minka Kelly, Derek Jeter and Thierry Henry about mineral futures and the benefits of organic silk sheets

3:00 AM: Jeter realized Minka is flirting with you, and he's not as down with the menage trois stuff as A-Rod, so he politely, but firmly excuses the two of them

3:30 AM: Shots at a shotgun shack with Nick Nolte

5:00 AM: You and John McEnroe take turns urinating in public and hurling rock and insults at passing cabs

6:00 AM: You walk home, shoulders haunched, hands in pockets smiling to yourself at how important your life is, because you are in NY.