Takeuchi Cullen writes that she didn’t go because “besides childcare and wardrobe issues, I had a doctor’s appointment I couldn’t move.”
Poniewozik just told me he didn’t go because he doesn’t own a tux.
And I didn’t go because I was tired, Mrs. CC was about to leave town for a few days, we were gonna have tacos for dinner, and–either this or the tacos is the most important factor–I’m always a bit daunted at the prospect of putting on my tux (I bought it 13 years ago to get married in, and it’s a little tight).
I’m writing, of course, about the Time 100 gala last night, which you can read about pretty much everywhere online except on Time‘s own blogs. Those of us of middling importance at Time (a group to which Lisa, Jim and I apparently all belong) get our invites two days before the event. I guess the idea is to hold out for actual Time 100 honorees and other important folks until the last minute, then fill the remaining seats with staffers.
It seems a reasonable enough approach. But the result is that we have failed to serve you the reader with glamorous photos and unbelievable dinner-table gossip (or even lame photos and lame gossip). So I hereby pledge to either lose 15 pounds or buy a new tux before I get my last-minute invite next May.