The meek shall inherit...

All of the children I work for, know me on a personal level. When I'm in a show, start a new job, take my Rabbit to vet, they all know. When I have roommate problems, the all know. And they put their two cents in.

A little girl I work with every other Friday, gave me some sage advice the other night. "If you have so many problems living with roommates, maybe you should live on your own." The child is 8.

And to brifely address her remark, I enjoy and prefer living with others. I've just been dealt a revolving roster of crappy roommates.

Giving the right impression

I don't run into people I know on the subway very often. When I do, it's usually someone I wish I hadn't seen. Occasionally I ride w/ "celebs". I think I've ridden w/ 70% of the current cast of SNL; Fred Armisen has an affinity for the "1" - I've seen him on three separate occasions.

Tonight's encounter wasn't someone of noteriety, or even of infamy. He wasn't famous, and he wasn't welcomed. It was this guy I dated when I first moved to the City.

He was a Math major at a fancy school, who gave up a useless major to do nothing w/ his life - stand-up comedy. He was ok - light years better than that other comic I dated. Our relationship was weird, to say the least. He broke up w/ me via text message. When that happened, I was so so angry I blogged the shit out of him, defaming him all over the net. When you googled his name, my old blog would be the first thing you saw. I got over that, however. Barely a memory; I can't even remember is name.

Last I heard, he was seriously dating some Freshman at NYU, probably trying to get her from behind. And his comedy was still adequite.

Anyway, I saw him on the 1/2/3 platform at 14th St. tonight. I ducked out of site, and he didn't see me. But I saw him. And he had gained weight. And I smiled. I think he might have shrunk too.

An open letter to my landlord.

Dear Ellis,

I'm really sorry I gave you the finger and told you to "fuck off". I had a terrible day, parallele parking is very nerve racking for me, and mammonth SUV's barreling past aren't very helpful. Also not helpful, using a fog horn to get my attention. I had no idea it was you, and when I'm agitated, offering to tell me how to park my car is not a good idea. Because then I get angry, and start crying. And nobody needs to see that.

I can see you're annoyed I wasn't receptive to your offering of assistance, being as how you quickly drove away whilst holding down your horn. Hopefully this doesn't change our relationship. You know the one where I ask you to get hot water into the apartment or spray for roaches and you don't.

And I ain't Baby.

Thank you,

The Smirking Valet

Burning bridges like it's the fall of Roam.

I recieved an attractive birthday card from my grandmother two days late this year. Which is an improvement upon the past 3 years, when I wasn't even speaking to her. When my mother got in an accident this past May, I had to call her. She immediatly blamed me, but we spoke every day for the first few weeks my mum was in the hospital. Then we got into an argument over something small It was always over something small. We didn't speak again. Then her miserable boyfriend had a stroke last month, and she started to tell my mother she wanted to go into a Nursing Home.

The card I recieved said this "It looks like you and I will never have a relationship. I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you have done for your motherm you have been wonderful and I do wish you the best. Grandmother." Who sends that sort of thing, via a birthday card!!!!!!!!!

And my father who I still don't speak to didn't even attempt to conctact me for my birthday. Last year he forgot, and "apologised for the oversight."

It's just me and my mother now. But that's all it really ever was anyway.

SEX!

Now that I have your attention, I'd like to bring it to a topic that's near and dear to my heart. The proper disposal of condoms, used and unused. For used, never never never flush it down the toilet. Just because drug dealers in Greenpoint do it doesn't mean you should. For unused, and I'm speaking of the expired ones, take them out of the package before throwing them away. If they're non-lubricated, put them on your hands and pretend you're a tadpol.

I bring this topic up because while cleaning my room this evening, I discovered my box of condoms. Most girls have them, I believe. Mine is pink, with a velveteen bow atop. Going through them, I discovered most were expireded within the month.

I told my roommate that's a clear indication I'm not having enough sex. He pointed out maybe I am, I'm just not using protection. Think on that!

*yes Mum, I'm using protection.

If we learned anything from West Side Story...

On Wed. whilst shopping at H&M, or Harlem & M as my roommates calls it I was accosted by a women. Like many who hit the pavements of 125th St., she was African American. She was shouting some pro-Obama protesting rants about the world, when I strolled past. She switched gears and said to her friends, "look at that pale-faced Cracker. It's people like that that are destroying Harlem!" I felt I didn't have a decent case to make against her, so I just walked by.

I will say, my neighborhood is one that is changing. South Harlem has given way to SoHa, little store fronts are now Starbucks and New York Sports Clubs, and everything being built now is with the intention to be chic. I'm all for bettering a neighborhood - build a playground, have a neighborhood watch. But even I am saddened by the copious amounts of white washing.

Smooth Move, Ex-Lax

I dropped a heavy table on the foot of a Super Sexy Power Table supporter today. And I opted to not go to our lame-ass company picnic, and rather nursed a hangover. Thank you Gargantuan Margaritas! Supposedly, I'm expected to support my coworkers and not drop heavy obkects on them. For a nursing home, this is as corporate as I've seen. Oliver Stone should make a movie about us. Christina Ricci would play me, of course. Our VP would be played by Julianne Moore, the bitchy coworker in my department would be played by S. Epatha Merkleson, and the old sassy black lady I throw laser punches too, would be played my Jimmy J.J. Walker in drag. Instead of "Dynomite!" he'd say "Peace, Hippie!" And...it would be A MUSICAL!

My coworkers seem surprised I don't take any drugs.