When you think of our 44th president's inauguration, what image flashes into your mind? Is it Aretha Franklin's hat? Perhaps it's Michelle Obama's teal shoes? Could it be the chilly millions covering every inch of DC? Want to know what jolts across my grey blob in a sequined cup of democracy? Spinning tassles. Sometimes the right, sometimes the left, and sometimes... left and right at the same time.

I can't shake the feeling that something big is happening today. Is it the Fishs Eddy "We're NOT losing our lease" sale on Broadway and 19th? No, that can't be it. Is it the fire that I missed by minutes at the Army Recruitment building that I never even saw go up and is now down? Hmm, no... Maybe it's the OMMA Magazine Agency of the Year Party tonight at the Yale Club. Or maybe, just maybe, it's that little thing called an inauguration that has everybody sizzling like baby-oiled teens at the Mentor Headlands on senior skip day. Speaking …

It was COLD last night! It was that bite-your-ears-off-and take a digit frigid, but it felt good, didn't it? Every lung-frosting breath tasted sterile, which made me imagine my almost-dead cold just chipping off my insides and leaving for warmer territory. I popped off the 6 at 68th Street and wandered towards 212, the restaurant where 400 RSVPs were supposed to fit.

I reentered the workforce after a brief wide-open spaces hiatus in lovely Mantua, Ohio to experience more of the same: a deafening whistling quiet in the media social scene. The absence of larger scale get-togethers gave me time to wallow in one of the worst colds I have ever had as well, and also generate what nickname Sawyer from "Lost" would call me if we were sharing sand on the island (It's "Sticks" if you're curious). Through a goopy green haze of Mr. Mucus (you know the guy) I discovered "The Digital Breakfast" offered by Gotham Media Ventures. Hoping we …

Tuesday morning began like any other. I hopped out of bed, tripped over my yet-to-be-unpacked suitcase from the holidays, and started the shower water (which, of course, didn't come out right away -- love that Manhattan apartment water pressure). I opened my mouth to wish my guy a good day -- and croaked. My throat unleashed a handful of esophageal porcupines wielding circular saws covered in diamond blades. Awesome. I made it through the NY Tech Meetup without an embarrassing phlegm incident, but I stayed in Wednesday night because nothing, NOTHING was going to keep me from the Saveur 100 …

As I was getting prepared for the NY Tech Meetup (AKA seeing if any of my Twitter pals would be there), I IMd friend, founder, and tech nerdy dude, Nater Kane, to see if he would be in attendance - I've seen him tweet from the far-away 11th Ave location before. To my surprise he typed back "NY Tech Meetup? No way. I'm boycotting actually." I was lightly floored, like berber. Why wouldn't a guy who lives and breathes technology hit the NY Tech Meetup? And, how would I now, on my virgin voyage to said Meetup, maintain an open …