Be cool my babies ...

As a kid I would watch Johnny Carson, the undisputed King of Late Night, on our RCA television during infrequent lapses of parental oversight. I was always a night owl, like my dad. I liked Johnny — his laughter, his wit, the twinkle in his eye — but I never loved a TV man until there was Conan O'Brien.

I was watching "Late Night" when it WASN'T cool to watch "Late Night," always because the rangy redhead at the helm gave a nerd like me hope. That, and he made me laugh. When David and me were on part of our honeymoon in New York we almost went to a taping at Rockefeller Center. OH, how I wished we had.

But now, after years of dreaming the impossible dream, I have seen my man in the flesh.

Above: Right outside where "The Tonight Show" tapes. That building in the background is the actual studio they renovated for Conan. Pictures are not allowed inside, so this was the best I could get. The security is oddly severe. I felt like I was risking my life snapping this pic — kept waiting for a militant page to give me the heave-ho.

Above: Had to take a picture of our wristbands. Once inside we had THE best seats one could ever ask for: right behind Andy Richter, about seven rows up, perfect for my Conan gawking.

Above: David and me waiting in line. It was hot on Tuesday, hence the misters in the background. After a hilarious monologue, the guests for the night were: Neil Patrick Harris, Paul Teutul Sr. (mean old guy from American Choppers) and musical guest Creed.

Above: My friends Stef and Mike tagged along.

After the show we ate at Micelli's down the road. The piano man (not Billy Joel) was right across from our table. Then a waiter sang "Mona Lisa." I contemplated the night's events over chicken piccanti and a Pepsi. Mike and I discussed the difference between the New York show vs the L.A. show. We all laughed. Then we drove over the Grapevine.