Matt and I went to WYSIWYG last night and had the great pleasure of finally meeting Nick and Patrick, visiting from Salt Lake City. Nick and I have been reading each other’s blogs forever (and I’ve been reading Patrick’s since he started blogging). A couple of years ago Nick was in town and I had to abort an attempt to meet up because I wasn’t feeling well, so last night was long overdue. They’re an adorable couple and I’m so glad I could finally meet them. The four of us hit it off wonderfully, and I hope we can get together with them again soon, even though they live on the other side of the country. (They might be moving to New York next fall, which would be great.)

WYSIWYG was terrific as usual. Four cute guys (including the straight one — sigh, preppy straight boys), three fabulous ladies, seven talented performers in all. The venue was set up differently than usual, because there’s a set onstage for a show. We all sat on hard bleachers, and my ass and shoulders were totally numb and sore by the end.

Afterwards, a bunch of us went to the Phoenix – me, Matt, Nick, Patrick, Mike, Andy, Michael, Jere, and Jon’s boyfriend JP. (Now that Jon’s back in school, he’s become Jon 2.0, Studious Jon, so he had to go home and couldn’t join us.)

I don’t think Nick and Patrick have ever seen so many bloggers in one place as they did last night. I hope they weren’t overwhelmed.

It was really a great night – WYSIWYG, meeting new people, crisp fall air. New York City in fall… ahhhh. I love living here.

I’m totally going to have to read Born to Kvetch: Yiddish Language and Culture in All Its Moods, by Michael Wex, which is reviewed in today’s New York Times.

To be Jewish, in other words, is to kvetch. If the Rolling Stones’ “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” had been translated into Yiddish, Mr. Wex writes, “it would have been called ‘(I Love to Keep Telling You That I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction (Because Telling You That I’m Not Satisfied Is All That Can Satisfy Me).'”

Love it.

On a related note, read A Yiddish Pale Fire, a sad and poignant essay on Yiddish by Michael Chabon.