The other day I had lunch with a friend, and she put down this dollar bill as a tip.

She assured me that it is in fact legal tender, printed by the U.S. Treasury. And she directed me to the Bunny Bucks site, which explains it all.

Super cool!

As a fairly serious amateur musician, I often get asked to do gigs. I once played in group for the Archbishop. I've played a couple of memorial services. And I've done a bunch of weddings.

Over the weekend, a couple of friends and I had a wedding gig.

It was a beautiful wedding, held outdoors in a botanical garden by a babbling brook.

It was a Jewish wedding. The bride had explicit instructions for us: we were to play Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring specifically for the rabbi's entry into the ceremony.

This initiated a quandary for us, the musicians. We whispered among ourselves - did she know that the song is about, well, JESUS?

The cellist said, "We should ask her if she's sure that's what she wants."

The violinist said, "No, she must know. She asked for it by name. "Jesu" is the first word in the name of the piece. It's awkward if we second guess her. We should just give her what she wants. If the rabbi gives us an odd look, we'll just have to keep playing and hoping he blames us for the musical choice, not her."

So that's what we did. Nobody gave us any odd looks.

Has it just become standard repertoire for weddings? Or maybe it couldn't be heard over the sound of the babbling brook (which, incidentally, babbled very loudly and beautifully).

Today I ate a chocolate ice cream bar at work.

Mmmm...

Unbeknownst to me, a piece of the chocolate fell onto my chair. And I sat on it, and smushed it into my (light-colored) pants.

I walked around the office all afternoon with what looked like a huge poop stain on my butt.

Right before I left the office, I went to the bathroom and chanced to see the huge stain. Arghhh!!

I had to take my pants off in the ladies room and scrub off the stain with soap and water.

Then I put my pants back on, and left the office to take the subway home.

Yes, all afternoon I walked around looking like I'd pooped my pants. Then all night I walked around looking like I'd peed my pants.

Good times.

Story #1: Overheard on the subway during the evening commute:

Two well-suited young men, Wall Street types, speaking to each other.

Story #2: This morning, a homeless man on the C train stood up and shouted, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am tired and hungry, and would appreciate it if someone could give me a ham and cheese sandwich, please."

Apparently he thought he was ordering at a deli.

Since I had a bag of roast beef sandwiches with no cheese, I didn't offer because I hate rejection.