Smack dab in spring break tourist central, on probably the most beauteous night yet this year, the Advertising Club-sponsored International ANDY Awards warmed up the chilled Times Center, dumping into its belly the easily bruised egos, the Technicolor daydreams, and the adver-spys of the NYC advertising industry. Frothy beverages were thrown with reckless abandon down the throats of those guests attempting to erase the burn of storyboards nixed, while others huddled in snark-sprayed cliques, tickling each others' ears with the seeds of competition. Check your sweaty seat for a butt print, and come with me -- I'll show you what …

If you're in NYC today, I hope it's having the same effect on you as it is on me. I can't stop smiling, I want to hug every flower and weirdo, and I can't think of any other place to live and work. I'm excited about hopping back into the fickle media and advertising party coverage scene, which seems so much more enjoyable when, at the end of the night, I can walk home with the warm breath of NYC nudging my neck under the never dark enough sky. I have one two-word request for all of you event planners …

I must have space madness, because of all the years I've lived in NYC, I have never heard of The Explorers Club. Had I known of this place, a clubhouse for those afflicted with extreme curiosity, I would have applied -- I mean, outer boroughs count, right? In fact, I'd say anyone who frequents the social scene in media and advertising deserves honorary membership -- you're lucky to emerge from this scene unscathed. Last night I, and 40 or so other urban spelunkers descended upon The Explorers Club to excavate the secrets of the social frontier, with Pontiflex holding the …

Have you ever been truly terrified? Not anxious before getting on stage, not like that. More like the fear that comes with driving through the Serengeti on a Segway covered with beef carpaccio, that kind of fear. I realized, around 1 a.m.-ish Utah time, that I had never quite experienced real fear -- until that time.

What better way to wash the sinful scent of Expo Hall carpet from your brain than with a little alleyway hunt for a speakeasy? Perhaps some of you who headed to Barrelhouse (really the "rec room" at the Pereira & O'Dell office space) did so with little effort, but me? I like to put a little spin on normalcy and take a right when I'm supposed to take a left, walk into office buildings -- where, believe it or not, the security guards are from New York, and know about as much about the area as I do -- and …

Last week I traveled with the MediaPost events team (sales, marketing, IT... well almost the entire team) and even some of you to San Francisco for our first ever OMMA Global San Francisco (obviously). This year the theme was "unbound" and we walked the talk, offering the conference free of charge to our loyal MediaPost membership. Sure sure, you may think that would encourage folks on Skid Row to show up, hoping to get some leads, but what really happened was a colorful batch, including a pooch snuggled on his owner's lap, sometimes even participating in Q & A. Slapped …

Next week I'm heading to San Francisco with the bloody-knuckled, sweaty-browed (No tears, people! No tears!) MediaPost Marketing and Events Team for OMMA Global! I'm geeked up as all hell because I always feel shot with energy and part of the team around event time. Scoff and chortle all you want, but there is nothing like being swept up in the storm that is a group working to make a huge industry event successful. That and I've never been to San Fran and I'll grab whatever tiny moments I can to see. AND I'll be giving YOU ALL this column, …

Last night I headed to "Top of the Week," a name I'd never heard of and thought I'd read wrong. It's not the penthouse, which is a logical assumption when "top of the..." is part of the name. No, it was the 3rd floor of the building that houses Newsweek, Slate, and The Washington Post. It was also the location of the celebration of Budget Travel's 100th issue and ground zero for the stinky cheese plate.

I'm not meant to cover The Shorty Awards. I'm either assaulted verbally by others, or I assault myself with my own feet.

Last night Guvera threw a party just for me - with musical performance playing practically in my lap and sequined burlesque dancers swaying and twitching for my eyes only. Well, not really, but it sure felt like it. Step into the scarlet chamber of love, my friends, where Alice Cooper is the guide and the ice luge is the mood smoother.