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Just An Online Minute... Hi! My Name Is... What? My Name is... Who? My Name is... Tech Meetup 

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 mind given the juicy ear beetle Nater nestled in my noggin?
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Just An Online Minute... Jingling Bells On Broadway, On Broadway 

Fa la la la laaaaaaa la la la LA! Mmm, this eggnog is good. The 151 in it is making me feel a little nutty and I'm definitely seeing visions of sugarplums dancing on my hard drive. I keed, I keed.d But really kids, this is it. Can you remember a time when you felt such relief with a year being over? I feel safe acting like we all feel the same way based on party convos, tweets, and well... the news. I think the only time I've felt more relieved to end anything was when I was camping in the Finger Lakes and a tornado hit the campgrounds. The relief part was when it was over. I'm ending our year together, you crazy bunch of rabble rousers and peeping Toms (and Tanyas, I guess), with the MediaPost holiday party. It was just the remedy to clear the rash The Eldridge had given me the night before.
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Just An Online Minute... Thrillist's Yuletide Gets Doused With The Eldridge's Lame Bucket 

Shh, you don't see me writing this. And you don't see the photos I'm posting either? Isn't this a fun game? You know what else is a really fun game, especially when dripping with irk-covered sarcasm? Clubs, bars, and lounges that need to get over themselves.
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Just An Online Minute... Nosing Through The Truffles With La Cucina Italiana 

When I was little E.B. White's porcine parable, "Charlotte's Web" was the first book that made me cry. It's also the first book that introduced me to truffles. I thought "truffles" was another word for food garbage that farmers would feed to pigs since no one else would eat that stuff. But look! Templeton the rat was quite the misunderstood foodie, wasn't he? Last night I did my best Templeton impression at the Italian cheese, wine, truffle, and olive oil extravaganza hosted by the magazine La Cucina Italiana, where the food I sampled didn't quite make me cry, but it did make me question if I hadn't been transported there by some sort of miraculous spider.
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Just An Online Minute... Not Crashing The ADC Holiday Party 

And to think I almost didn't go. AgencySpy tweeted that bootleg invitations were being bandied about the Internet like a Ponzi scheme, planting the seed of "blech, overcrowding" deep in my overcrowded cranium. Who wants to battle a bunch of idiots who would actually crash a party that, um, is already open to anyone who visits the ADC site, creates an account, RSVPs, and brings toys for kids. I battled through the fluffy, sometimes slushy, driving snow and entered the purple winter wonderland that was the ADC Gallery. It became a night in fab lane lined with raw toast, a green field, and cruddy crudités.
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Just An Online Minute... Running Around With All The Wrong People 

How about that awesome weather last night? Those gargantuan globs of global-warming-wrapped precipitation bouncing comfortably off your forehead as you navigated swirling cesspools of rat hair, road sweat, and fishpart rinse-away. I hate the rain, I hate the trenchfoot it brings, and I hate umbrella imbeciles in this lovely rude city. That's a lot of hate, I know. Time for some spiritual cleansing. And what better way to wash that hate right outta my hair than with a sarcastically fabulous, visually vivacious, slap-your-granny alternative to that horrid book "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" by Dr Seuss. I went to the "All The Wrong People Have Self-Esteem: An Inappropriate Book for Young Ladies" book party last night. What did you do?
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Just An Online Minute... DJ Spooky Gives You The Spins At The Reprise Media Holiday Party 

I am a freaking idiot. I have various proof points to support this claim, but let's work with the most recent piece of evidence since it's closest in time and proximity, making it more relevant. Last night I went to the PRNewser party at Heartland Brewery. Oh jolly day! I didn't have to go to the West Side YET AGAIN. That's right, I put my heels on (instead of flatties to walk in) and walked, what, five blocks to Union Square and entered the bar, ready to throw down with good friends and have an old-fashioned Twitter reunion. Hmm, well this is weird. No one is here. Why? Because everyone was at the Heartland Brewery on 34th and 5th.
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Just An Online Minute... Your Muse Awaits And She's All Woman 

What a day today (well, yesterday, as you're reading this tomorrow. wooeeeooo, freaky!) at The Wally. Oh, The Wally? That's what I call the Waldorf Astoria because I'm such a regular there. Me and the "skybox" section, as I like to call it, are very close. Last time I watched as Brian Williams tried to take us all in his media denial time machine and head back to when stone tablets were king and today, well today, I got to sip champagne with the brightest in New York Women in Film and Television, sharing odd chicken salad with the likes of Laura Linney, Cynthia Nixon, Michael Musto, and that girl from the show... with the dog. You know what I mean
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Just An Online Minute... Reaching The Summit With Email Insiders 

The weather outside wasn't particularly frightful, but it was absolutely delightful Sunday night at the opening reception of the Email Insider Summit in Park City. With a postcard-perfect fireplace and holiday decorations as a backdrop, marketers caught up with old friends and made new ones at the exquisite Stein Eriksen Lodge.
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Just An Online Minute... The Hills Have Thighs 

And ribs. And mac and cheese. And ribs. And greens. And ribs. Did I mention ribs? OK, just checking. Last night -- despite the misting rain and my non-umbrella -- was the night of my meat dreams. Hill Country was the place and the giving folks at Minyanville, a media company focusing on educating even the youngest consumer on financial security and freedom (and ACK, planning) in a tangible nightmare-dispersing way, were the gracious hosts. Would you believe I didn't have one rib?
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