Because two lawyers just aren't enough...

Was that your Boner???

2009-09-14T23:36:00.002-05:00

I've been staying home or spending time at other's homes. It's really just an excuse to watch The Jerk, drink alot, and spoon one another. Yes, my friends are a big bunch of spooners. My friend Miles suggests I pull a "reach-around", but I suppose I'm too shy.

Last night, a few of my friends stopped by for a would-be girls night/party planning session. Through some wacky misunderstandings, my new masculine friend ended up running into Helen, in-turn bumping into myself and my sexy personal trainer. She and I were clad in my dead grandmother's old furs, leotards, and Vans. We were purchasing Smirnoff Ice from the deli, and getting a slice of pizza. Yes, that WAS me putting my Vans on the counter to show the pizza guy. What else would one be doing on a Sunday night in Harlem?

We all came home, I ate my Sicilian, she ate her Veggie, Helen cooked lunch for the next day, and our man friend watched, wishing he had money. Before you start accusing me of being insensitive, I might say I treated him to a hearty lunch at White Castle earlier in the day. My trainer suggested we play "truth or dare". This was an idea that with greeted with mixed emotions. Helen quickly retired to her study to save the world, our man friend sort of just sat there, and I whole heartedly said YES!!!

"Truth or Dare" never really went well for me. At a sleepover when I was 14, I was dared to lay down on the street in my underwear. My mother didn't appreciate that. And of course the kissing of the female friends, met with giggles and whispers. By the time heavy duty "Truth or Dare" was in session, I had already been shipped off to my no-touching policy boarding school. I've never even played "seven minutes in heaven". But really, how much trouble can one get into in 7 minutes!

So we lit some tea lights and cranked up my Mates of State playlist on Pandora - you know, to set the mood of being ironically juvenile. Yes, good times were had by all. We all asked typical truth stuff, regarding loosing of virginity, who would you cheat on your partner with, what's the kinkiest thing you've ever done...I asked the hard hitting stuff, such as "Have you ever had a murderous thought?" What can I say, I'm special.

I've always preferred "Truth" to "Dare", because I'm quite the storyteller. Obviously. Yet, I'm painfully gun shy. I will never make the first move, and I'm ridiculously cautious. So you'd be as surprised as I was, when I found myself accepting the dare of dry humping one of our friends. Well, in all actuality, I was supposed to simulate what I look like when I'm about to have an orgasm. Honestly, I don't really know, what with me being chaste. And I'm pretty sure I accidentally touched his boner.

Dancing was had, legs entwined through one another took place, I got sort of turned on by a girl, and a delightful new sketch character was born on this night! Just you wait!!! If I can't almost have an orgy with my good friends, while creating comic gold, then what good are the for???

Goodbye, my lover.

2009-09-01T01:11:00.003-05:00

Oh dear. My gentleman friend has found another. This was bound to happen, of course. That was the arrangement. If one of us finds someone they chose to be monogamous with, our relationship ends. I knew he'd find someone first. The Bronx isn't that big. It will be a loss, however.

We were coworkers, and it took me three months to introduce myself. I approached him in the lunch room of my nursing home and said hello, one day. Man, I was a DORK. He was my work crush. Now, the beauty of a work crush, is that is all it is. You would never date this person out of work, but seeing them makes a shitty day better. I'd get all smushy when I'd see him. So cute with his glasses and round tush! Ugh, sorry. Spending time with a senior, I'd go out of my way to be near him while talking to them. Remember when I said I was a dork?

When I quit, I told his best friend, the security guard, that I had a work crush on him. His response, "Really? That's funny, because he thinks your gorgeous." Awww, right? Well, that was 8 months ago.

No one has met him, not even Helen. I sort of like it that way. We're very different, and I like that as well. He's not a bull shit artist like so many people I know. He's direct and honest. The only Broadway show he's seen is Cats, prefers comic books to novels, he can't swim or drive, and takes care of his mother. We'll spend a good portion of the evening playing Nintendo, inbetween our trysts and General Tso's Chicken. No one know we're here.

The reason for my waxy poetry? I'll miss him. Our trysts weren't extraordinary. His kissing wasn't even that good. He'd never let me get to emotionally close - he'd speak about his personal life, but refuse to use names and exact locations. That being said, I felt safe and ok with him.

I think, with every person you encounter, whether it be a lover, an enemy, or a friend, there is something to learn from that person. Some small piece you can take along with you. I suppose the one thing I can take away from him, is the knowledge that I am actually ok. And that I don't need him, or anyone to reaffirm that. I will miss the General Tso's...

Island Hopping

2009-08-30T03:14:00.002-05:00

After a neverending ride on the D train, and an all to brief Chess singalong with Mark, I am home. We went to check out the Judith Shakespeare Company's Shakespeareathon in Long Island City this evening. Now, I'm not that big into Shakespeare. I enjoy the comedies; I love A Mid Summer Night's Dream. But the idea of a weekend of pub songs and corsets and fortune telling is all to good to pass up! And the most important reason to be in attendance? To support our wonderful friend.

She was scheduled to perform last evening, and I missed it. Even with a date book and my iCal, sometimes I just can't get it together. Tonight she was running around, doing ticket raffles, singing songs, making sure everything was where is it was supposed to be. She's good at that sort of thing. I love having her in my life for many reasons, a big one being that when I'm on the verge of a meltdown, she swoops in and with the flick of a wrist, all is right with the world again.

It was a fun time; I'm glad I got off the big island just for a bit. As you know, I don't make a habit out of going to Brooklyn or Queens, but I guess once a year won't kill me.

Home Decor Day!

2009-08-29T13:25:00.003-05:00

I'm very excited! Like most women, I love shopping. But I prefer a very specific form of shopping - home decor!!! Oh, I adore home decor! And I hate shoe shopping. I can spend hours upon HOURS in Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Ikea is truly an all day event. I've always been into ultra modern furnishings and deco. I freaken love deco.

Anyway, the cause of my excitement! My lovely friend Allison and I are hitting up our favorite decor shops today. I love my friend Allison. Not only is she a fabulous listener and all around kick ass chick, she loves home design almost as much as I do. She's hard core about things - she makes lists! Of course I have a typed up inventory of every cosmetic I own. And I keep it updated. So we're both a little hard core.

We'll check out CB2 first - a hip outpost of Crate and Barrel. I wait eagerly every month for the arrival of my CB2 catalog. My dresser is from CB2 and it's just...ugh I can't even explain it. Then we'll head up a few blocks to Crate and Barrel, the wedding registry dream land. Contemporary furniture, dinner ware, stem ware...Allison is moving into a nice new place with her boyfriend, so she's eager to out fit the place.

After our stint in Soho, and a quick stop to Kid Robot to check out the new Labbits (ah, I love Labbits!) and Jonathan Adler to dream about one day affording any pottery from his Muse collection, we'll head up to Chelsea.

West Elm, Allison's favorite place, is what she dreams about. If she sees a piece, she can tell you what page in the catalog you can find it. West Elm is a bit to cookie cutter for my taste, but I do love their lacquer furniture, end tables, and home accessories. My little ceramic rabbit is from West Elm. I'm just along for the ride.

We finish our day with The Container Store. Who knew storage could be so amazing! Like AMAZING! Storage for socks. Storage for mugs. Storage for dog food. Storage for mouthwash. I need to pick up some little storage containers to keep in my bathroom - I'm slowly trying to get organized. I feel with that organization, I'll clean my room. Because honestly, I'm getting tried of climbing over clothes to get into bed at night.

And you know what a clean room means??? Slumber party!!! No boys allowed!

What's so great about the Staten Island Ferry, anyway?

2009-08-25T01:45:00.002-05:00

Remember when you were in junior high and you were in a group of people who thought similarly to you? A clique, if you will. Remember the band geeks and the theatre freaks? I was in both! Remember the jocks, and how you'd stay after school to watch Jeremy Bennett wrestle in tights? Remember the burnouts and the goths who thought Hot Topics was the mecca for punk and angst? Remember the obviously bitchy girls invite you to a pool party, and ignore you the whole time? What about the mean girls that give off the appearance of being sweet but in the end, turn out to be vicious, spiteful girls?

I thought junior high, high school was over. The truth is, it'll never be over. As long as the world keeps spinning, people will continue to knock others down in an attempt to make themselves feel better. Knowing that you have the ability to make someone cry is an amazingly powerful thing. We, as a people, take the ability of taking control and having power over another, for granted. Consequently, often times we don't see someone slowly beginning to have control and exert power over us. And that is what we need to focus on - taking back the power.

Your mother and father were right; bullies are bullies because of insecurities, broken homes, factors that are beyond their control. They choose to bully, in an effort to take that control back. Life is a big, bitchy power struggle.

I am writing this, not so much to be informative to my readers, but as a lesson plan for myself. I need to stop letting the control others have placed upon me, break me. I need to remember that whatever happened in the past, isn't relevant now. This is me, taking back my power.

so, fuck it. I took back my power, and I promise to never be so generous with it again.

Choo Choo! It's the Vibrator Train!

2009-08-23T00:45:00.003-05:00

My friends have been telling me for months to take some time for myself, whatever that entails. People keep suggesting I go to the Park, and just sit. Honestly, I'm not someone that easily finds serenity, and a patch of green full of sun bathers and happy couples ain't gonna cut the mustard. I'm not a fan of yoga, because I have a thing about bare feet. And it takes alot of effort to hop on the subway to visit a museum; plus I always feel guilty paying just one dollar...it does say "suggested donation!" And a house of worship? Very unlikely. To most of you, these places are sanctuaries for being one with your thoughts and just being present and content. Personally, I'd rather read Nylon Magazine and go to Sephora.

Since I'm a stubborn pain in the ass, and rarely listen to others, I finally gave in and took some time for myself. I went to the Lower East Side and bought a vibrator. People are surprised to learn I don't own one. That probably has to do with the fact that I've always lived with others, from my parents, to families I nannied for, to a plethora of roommates. It's just respectful. You wouldn't want your roommate's boyfriend to ejaculate all over your sofa/love seat combo - no matter how much you deserve it.

The location of my purchase was super female-friendly Babeland. They're extremely friendly and ridiculously well informed. It's bright, fancy, and pretty. Women like pretty things! Their mindset is to put the customer as ease, because sex toys are fun and choosing one shouldn't be an arduous task. A refreshing approach to sexual empowerment. In the past, I've been terribly timid to even browse in such a place. Yes, I do have one or two conservative bones in my body - though I think I broke them having sex. :rimshot:

My best friend and I would take her bumper sticker-fied Jetta to South Street in Philadelphia. Sort of like the West Village and Williamsburg, only smaller, cheaper, and drunker. We'd giggle at the bongs and piercing parlors. I will go on record stating that I was thisclose to getting my tongue pierced at Warrior Piercing. Near Warrior if you follow the sidewalk, you'll begin to see little cartoon spermies, leading you to Condom Kingdom - the be all end all giggle inducing sex shop. There were spermies on the sidewalk!!! If anyone can verify that these spermies are still around, please post!!!

We'd NJ Transit ourselves up to Christopher Street to check out the ironic lesbian t-shirts. But these sex shops were disgusting, and I remember actually feeling like I was going to throw up in one store. I couldn't get over all of the video (wow, that dates me) covers full of women with their legs spread open. And butt plugs. Butt what??? These big knobs that resemble cartoon arrowheads. You put them where??? I couldn't even fathom how that could work. I mean, after my mother purchased me the "Getting to know your body book for girls", it took me several months to wrap my mind around the whole "penis in vagina" thing. And it took the guy who was playing Chief Bromden in Cuckoo's Nest several days to explain anal sex to me. After professing my love to him, he told me he was gay - hmm, it all made sense now. And I clearly remember having a heated debate with Rachel Jankowski's little brother, protesting that you cannot have sex via the ear canal! Sex in the cusp of sexual awakening age is a scary, freaky, crying in the fetal position time.

My best friend and I once swiped her dad's porn "Double Penetration 6", and I was shocked. You can put your mouth there? GROSSSSSSSS!!!!! She was not fazed, as her grandmother owns a stripclub on route 309 that bears her name. I was definitely the sheltered one in the friendship. Now she's a nurse and lives happily with her girlfriend of many years in New Jersey. It's her birthday today :) Happy Birthday Coo!!!

Anyway, getting back to the point of this yarn. I was very pleased with my purchase, peeking into the bag on the subway. I'm very proud of myself for doing something that will bring me peace, and help me remain centered. Because never pausing just to breathe for a moment, is one of my downfalls. So I thank my wonderful friends for prodding and the many texts I've been receiving today, wondering how the "new friend" is doing. I think it'll be great - I've been looking for a good milkshake maker for awhile now.

10 years later

2009-08-21T02:07:00.003-05:00

It seems as though most of my musings have been related to past experiences, as of late. Rest assured, when I am once again gainfully employed, I'll pepper this space with the random wtf moments you have come to know and love. In the meantime...

I had lunch with an high school friend earlier today. For those that aren't aware, I went to a boarding school because public school couldn't handle all "this." Yes, yours truly, was once a pistol-packin mama minus the pistol. I spent more time in the nurse's office feigning illness than attending class. And throwing desks at teachers was also a natural response. Needless to say, my fellow boarding schoolers were of that elite mentally disturbed state.

My lunch date today was an old high school crush. When you're ill, you really aren't able to gauge other's illnesses. So this is one of those secret shame crushes. He was from Miami, worshiped Anna Kournikova claiming they dated, and he had that cute pin straight bowl cut parted in the center that was all the rage in the mid-90's. His parents would love nothing more than to see as married; apparently they think of me as a stable Jewish girl. They've got the girl part right.

In my high school, our version of "prom" consisted of dimming the lights in the gym, dragging in the tables from the cafeteria, and booking a DJ. Needless to say, your prom, even if you didn't attend, was 100 times better than mine was.

My mother took me to Fashion Bug to purchase a dress. When your family is poor and you weigh 250lbs, dress options are limited. I am no Molly Ringwald. I ended up with this maroon tent with sparkly flowers all over it. It was $3.00. I was terribly proud of it. I required a tiara as well; $5.00 at Claires. Oh I was splendid!

I remember hanging out my friends, dancing to Smashmouth and Lou Bega. I remember Dustin and his mohawk and Christina, who apparently was murdered several years ago. And Karen trying to take off her dress. And my crush, with his pin straight hair rocking out with his best buddy, a Neo-Nazi from Long Island. I finally asked/begged him to dance.

We danced to Green Day's "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)" which is a TERRIBLE song to slow dance to. And an even worse song to give hope to new beginnings. I have pictures of him looking absolutely miserable, dancing with me. We graduated, a class of 10, and we went on our respective paths. His involved becoming a sports agent. Mine, well I'm still working on that. But at least I look good.

Through the powers of Facebook, he found me, and we've kept in contact over the past few years. We've lost touch with most everyone we graduated with. Apparently one girl became a nun. She doesn't have a Facebook.

We finally met after 10 years, last spring, for dinner with his parents at Fiorello's. So terribly awkward, but they acted as if I was their pride and joy. He's in town for the US Open, and wanted to meet for lunch today.

He doesn't know the city at all, yet he walks a good 10ft ahead of me, in his awkward style. Rest assured, dear reader, any attraction I harboured for him, has long gone. We ate at one of my favorite dinners, the Westway on 44th and 9th. Check it out. I once got drunk and made out with a guy on the corner of 44th and 9th. Ah, memories.

He seemed to think I was nervous, since I spilled my soda all over the table. Twice. I'm never clumsy like that. I wasn't nervous, just eager to finish this painful lunch, in which he constantly bragged about this and that, trying hard to impress me. He paid the bill, and insisted I walk him back to his ugly hotel in Times Square. We said our goodbyes, promising to see one another again, sooner than later. And I sashayed my ass out the revolving doors, and trotted away from the misery that is Times Square.

All in all, I suppose it was good to see the guy. Compared to many of our classmates, he's done incredibly well for himself, and I do wish him the best. He's like a bath; I'll see him once a year, whether I need to or not. After all, he's one of the only memories I have left of a painful high school experience. And as I've learned, using the pain for good, only makes you stronger. Loosing 100lbs and wearing a low-cut black dress and heels while embracing the pain does a world of good as well!

Where are you?

2009-08-13T00:13:00.002-05:00

I was watching a documentary on Caligula tonight, and got to thinking about people from my past and what they might be doing now. Like my ex-boyfriend Matthew's, best friend Josh.

Josh was 9 yrs older than Matthew and I. He was an out of work pianist, and Matthew's roommate. He smoked pot as much as he wrote music, which was always. He was dark and brooding, with a wide array of flannel shirts. He was a tragic, tortured person who found his brother, after he hung himself. His brother's girlfriend stole the ashes, and Josh never got to say goodbye.

Compared to Matthew, who was an out of work Jew, with a tennis arm, and Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Josh was clearly the catch in that situation.

Matthew and I moved in together, very quickly. Looking back, I see it as playing house. I was making $22,000 a year at a nursing home, and he was making more, living off his parents. While I was putting gas in my Jetta, he was diving into dumpsters to furnish our apartment.

He would rather stay home on the computer or listen to Eminem, so Josh and I would just drive into the night. We'd park across from a now-closed insane asylum in Northeast Philly, and look at the assuming gates. We'd talk about climbing the gates, and never coming back, because it's safer then the real world. Josh would regale me with tales of electro shock therapy, sitting on the train tracks until right before, and lost weekends. After, we'd drive for awhile, with the sun roof open, listening to Soundgarden. Then we'd end these evenings, with a trip to the Eagle dinner for curly fries.

Matthew would usually be asleep, the Klonopine having since kicked in. Is it wrong that I desired the best friend of my boyfriend? Was this a terrible mistake? What the hell was I smoking, to have found either of these men desirable? That's besides the point.

Josh and I would spend more time together, and Matthew would listen to the 8-Mile soundtrack all the time. Rap music made him angry, and he'd berate me and manipulate me. So, I'd go over to Josh's to hear music. Matthew found me one night when I didn't come home, and hit me. For a brief moment in time, I had two men fighting over me, and in my crazy little head, it felt amazing. Yes, the triangle of the woman, her boyfriend, and his bestfriend was the talk of the apartment complex.

Josh and I ultimately deemed it necessary to commit Matthew to a psychiatric treatment center. His parents supported the decision but insisted I handle things. Committing your boyfriend to a psych ward with the help of his best friend is a rather disturbing thing to do.

Josh never spoke to me again. Once Matthew was discharged, I moved out, stealing his Calvin Klein wife beater and some ephedra - this was right before they took it off the market!

I occasionally wonder about Josh. He'd be almost 40 now, and probably still brooding, working at Target. I love Target. I hope wherever he is, he's content.

The weekend of what?

2009-08-08T01:59:00.002-05:00

My day was of the extremely hectic nature. Hoofing around the city in my Nine Wests, w/ blisters aplenty. It was one of those rare days, in which I buy a hot dog from a street vendor. For those of you that aren't aware, I hate hot dogs. But, like anal sex, sometimes you just need it. Anyway, I arrived home, and took a wonderful nap on the napping couch. The Helen came home and alerted me to the fact that I had another interview in 30min. Have I mentioned, I love Helen?

I hopped in a cab, meeting at a Starbucks on the Upper West Side. Interviews with nannies in locations like Starbucks are de riguer for the first meeting. The details of said interview are non essential to this plot.

Helen was already asleep when I arrived home - remember, when you're a Scientist you need your rest, otherwise the world will never be saved. So I rewatched season 1 of The Kids in the Hall, reminding myself how much I love absurdist comedy and my ever lasting love for Mark McKinney. "He's sick of the Swiss!" Ending my Friday evening w/ some General Tso's and a phone call from an old high school friend, I sit to write about my upcoming weekend.

I'm working w/ a family all weekend. Fun times are bound to happen. We'll try and rush West Side Story again, I've been meaning to take the kids to get some soul food, I'm eager to drag them to Coney Island, and maybe convince them to see Julie & Julia. Then I'm to attend a going away soiree for an old roommate that has chosen to move home, out west. A post dedicated to her and her ballet shoes is forthcoming.

I'm most excited, one of my favorite bands, Jukebo the Ghost is playing in Brooklyn, and I never miss their shows. So, off on the L to Hell. Brooklyn doesn't happen often so don't get excited.

Sunday is a lovely friend's bday on the Lower East Side. I'm not a Lower East Side sort of girl, but who knows - maybe I'll get lucky and some dude will spike my drink. Rape kit aside, it'll make for an interesting entry.

On going home.

2009-08-05T02:31:00.002-05:00

As the title suggests, I'm going home tomorrow/today. Taking good ole' New Jersey Transit to see my Mommy. It's not really what I call home anymore, and it's certainly not a vacation. It's just a way to get out of the city for a few hours, get a free meal, and stock up on Schick razors which are $10 bucks cheaper than in New York. Oh and I get to see my Mom.

I can only take so much of my Mom. I love her, of course - she's the only blood relative I have now. But when you've had your mother bunking with you for 6 months, cleaning up her "accidents", and watching her lying in the street after being hit by an SUV, ultimately you can only take her in small doses.

It is good to see her. Even though we speak, daily, it's fun to show her what I've been up to on Facebook. She's relived to see I'm not on a downward spiral and I continue to be functional. There was much debate between my parents in the 90's as to whether I'd live to see 25. Proved them wrong, didn't I??? And she takes me to Pier 1 Imports so I can give her decorating advice, and Sephora, so I can pick out the best shades of cosmetics. Then she takes me to Perkins, near my old high school, and I squeal with delight, on the off chance a former classmate of mine is our waiter.

When I'm out in Philly with my mother, she starts conversations with strangers, and always seems to work into the conversation that her daughter came down from Manhattan for the day, and used to work in Jon Stewarts building. She's terribly proud that her only child is making a life for herself in New York. Coming from my background, this is no small feat. Most people went to Temple University or Penn State, and ended back at home, working at Ruby Tuesdays or Weichert Reality. Yes, it makes me terribly pleased to know that as average as my life here is, at least I'm far enough away from an air force base or batting cages, which makes my "average" a townie's wet dream. I'm not saying I'm better than the people that never left home, but they surely can.

Looking for work???

2009-08-04T00:45:00.002-05:00

Nannies get gigs in various ways. Networking is my preffered method, but Craigslist and various online sites are helpful as well. But more often than not, Nannies get placed via agencies. As I'm looking for a position, I'm working with several agencies. One in particular has asked me to put out the word that they're looking for several line-in nannies. There are many benefits of being a live-in; I was once a live-in and I freaken loved it. So, if you're interested in being a live-in Nanny, even a part-time one, and want to make a solid income, let me know and I will pass along your info.

Better yet, take matters into your own hands. Check out The Right Staff and ask to speak to my faves, Caitlin and Karolina - tell 'em I sent you!!!

See you at the playground!

A Special Place of my own.

2009-08-03T01:39:00.002-05:00

When in the company of friends, you can expect several things from me. I will entertain you with my stories full of WTF moments, I'll refuse to share dessert (get your own), high-quality but good natured gossip, and the guarantee that I won't get drunk.

I really didn't start drinking socially until I moved to the East Village when I was 26. I didn't care for the taste. And as my friends know, I'm terribly quirky and "out there" without adding inebriation to the mix. On the off chance I do drink, I'm a cheap date. Two glasses of Merlot and I'm done. Same goes from Jack & Coke.

And since I'm not really a social drinker, I typically prefer to hang out with my friends at restaurants, shows/concerts, and especially at home. I love playing hostess! But there's always been a part of me that wanted a hang out of my own, a bar where everyone knows my name. A bartender I can spill my problems to, that won't cost me $150/hr. A jukebox filled with music from the 70's.

My friend in Astoria talks about a wonderful little dive she and her boyfriend frequent. She convinced me to make the above-ground subway trek one evening, and it was a splendid affair. The bartender and the patrons knew them, they drank for free - they were boss. I was a little envious of this little dive bar.

Smoothly transitioning into the reason for this blog entry, my roommate convinced me to got out last night. I really am an old lady. I viewed some stand-up in midtown, and rode the A home, eager to catch up with my DVR and my nightgown. While applying her makeup, my roommate suggested we just check out some of the local bars. Looking terribly cute earlier in the evening, I flung on my Mizrahi tea dress, and off we went. This was my attempt in finding our special place.

Harlem has really changed since your parents told you to stay away. I mean, there are crappy parts, but there are crappy parts in Murray Hill. Yuck, Murray Hill. So with these changes, comes super sweet, stylized lounges.

Our first stop was MOCA, the most popular lounge in the area. It was packed with the fabulous people, and the bouncer searched our purses. I later learned of a fella getting pat down. Drama. We pressed on, in a search of this unmarked lounge, 17 Below.

This is the place NY Magazine wrote about, emphasizing the many noise complaints after 3am. If you didn't know it was there, you would've walked right past. My first roommate once took me to an unmarked bar in the East Village - it was so dark inside, I thought at any moment a woman would shriek "Oh, my pearls!" The staff at 17 Below was very welcoming, and escorted us into this teeny lounge decorated in black and white leather and studs. When I close my eyes, this is what my living room will look like one day. It was amazingly sexy, and I suddenly felt the need to make out with someone. You know what that's like. Unfortunately, the bass on the Kanye West was off the chain - remember I'm an old lady - so we peaced out. We did decide, however, that this would be a lovly spot for "Girls Night".

Our final destination was Cub Mojo. Terrible name, I'm aware. It was pretty empty, aside from these gorgeous women from Throgs Neck. The decor was Mid-Eastern, full of romantic reds and purples. Again, the need to make out, arose. Our bartender, Jason was wonderful. He mixed these strange drinks for us, made of rye and ginger. Mmmmmmmmmmmm.

Jason was concerned about my problems. The manager, Chris made sure we were comfortable. And I was excited to learn, the chef would be willing to teach me to fry pasta nests! Finally! A special place. We didn't leave until 4am, our wonderful conversations with Jason lasting all evening. He even offered to lend me his air pump, for our baby pool. That seals the deal in this being Our Special Place!

So my advice to you, is to take the A train to Harlem, and grab a drink with me! Not to many though - you wouldn't want me to accidentally make out with.

An open letter to my One Night Stand...

2009-07-31T00:21:00.004-05:00

Dear One Night Stand,

It's been several days since you put your penis inside of me. How have you been? I hear you've been busy. Well I'm assuming you've been busy. Normal behavior dictates several things, involving intercourse and intimate contact between two consenting adults.

Firstly, a thank you or a fun text by midday, the following day thanking the other for the fun times is in order. Sideways winky face is optional. Of course, people aren't always expected to thank someone whenever pleasantries are exchanged in a day-to-day situation. But a simple "thanks for lending me that book" or "had a great time at your party, the other night" is always appropriate. But in this particular instance, there was no book lending and there certainly wasn't a party.

Secondly, complete avoidance after a sexual encounter is inevitable, but unacceptable. Yes, there will be times in a person's life when they meet an attractive person at a bar/concert/Starbucks/street corner and the meeting becomes sexual. Hopefully, both know this is a one shot deal. Occasionally one person promises to call another person, and chooses not to out of embarrassment or a sudden move to another state or a death in the family. These things happen. Unfortunately, when said person continues to ask the other out in a public forum such as Facebook or Friendster, and when the two people have many mutual friends, the intelligent thing to do would not be to avoid contact with that person once they have inserted a penis into a vagina. Because then the person with the vagina will write her feelings down in a witty way, on another public forum like the internet.

Finally, quirks are common place where intercourse is concerned. We all have facets of our sexual life that are best to be kept private between two partners. For instance, I enjoy having my ear nibbled on - that is a quirk. And I hate feet - yet another quirk. It's always a surprise to learn about a partners quirks, the first time a sexual encounter takes place. A penchant for soft biting and hair tugging are a few I've encountered. But a partner who shakes and trembles violently as if they're having convulsions is a new one. I suppose these convulsions are a distraction, to keep you from ejaculating to soon. Consideration for another is always appreciated. And when you are finally at the point of ejaculation, a loud, girlish scream is rather odd. If I acted in that manner, you'd become fearful I was cumming rusty needles and rubbing alcohol.

And an added note regarding sexual quirks - bruising will happen. But bruising that resembles getting pummeled by a 300lb mime is just not acceptable - I work with children after all.

Hopefully this was helpful to you. One of my strongest suits is my willingness to go out of my way for others and make them feel comfortable. Such as when I cooked you breakfast the following morning - I always take care of my guests. Think of this letter as my way of assisting you in the proper way to fuck and run.

Very truly yours,

The Smirking Valet

PS - the eggs I prepared for breakfast that day, were apparently several weeks old. Hopefully salmonella isn't as serious as it sounds. Kisses!

When reality's rockin, don't come knockin!

2009-07-29T21:34:00.003-05:00

I've never been into reality television. I only watched the Real World when it was in NY for the second time, because the first inception was during my parent's "MTV and The Simpsons will rot your brain" phase. I liked dating shows with gimmicks. For Love or Money was always fun because you knew they'd always choose the moneyand it proved what other countries already knew - we are money-hungry douchebags. I liked Mr. Personality too - but i have thing for intimacy where the fella's face is covered with a mask. Just something I'm into.

I've recently become addicted to Daisy of Love, starring Hot Mess du jour, Daisy De La Hoya - who may or may not be related to another hot mess, Oscar de La Hoya. In it, she meets 16 different men in her quest to find one that isn't infected with Chlamydia. The finale was Sunday night, and not to spoil it, but she chose London.

Yes, our heroine desires what we all want - random sex with men of questionable morals, mass quantities of liquor, and a hot tub. There were some amazing men on that program. There was the abused cage fighter, the guy with the 6-gauge Prince Albert (Hellooooo, Nurse!), the truck driver with the heart of gold, the fella that wore the man thong, the guy that looked like Cher and Trent Reznor's love child, and London - every dumb girl's dream.

London was an attractive man, with a mohawk. Now I'm not into the whole "mohawk look" , because I have a thing about balding men. I don't like 'em. Sorry Mr. Clean, but it could never work. He was all angsty like Morrisey but tried to be a bad ass, like Sid Vicious. I dig.

Women want to date a rock star. I see it. Why wouldn't you? We want a man that rocks out, screaming about social injustice then serenading us about how they would die for our love. This shows they're multi-facetted and dedicated to a cause. We want a man that dresses well. Rock stars wear tight pants and leather! Women love leather! It's soft and reminds us of sex. Rock stars play instruments, and we like instruments. It means they're good with their hands, so they can fix that leaky pipe or hang a painting. And when it snows, they can shovel the walk. And if they're a drummer, that means they can finger bang. And women tend to like finger banging.

Whether London is good at finger banging or changing a light bulb or writing a sonnet, remains to be seen. Hopefully he treats Daisy with the love and respect she deserves. Nothing says "im deserving of love and acceptance" like posing with a guitar between your legs.

Television has the power to move, to heal, to change the way we think. If you're not into that, watch Daisy of Love.

And a final thought: Like so many of us, even people made out of plastic need love. Sometimes love can come in the form of plastic. Think about that!

My brain feeds off of the History Channel.

2009-07-28T23:49:00.002-05:00

Since I've been out of work, I suppose I've been in the doldrums. The upside is I get to video chat w/ my wonderful friend, Mark and my MBA friend in Rome, I've rediscovered the wonder of midday naps, I'm spending more quality time with my Rabbit, I can meet some of my other out of work friends for lunch, and I've become addicted to the Rachael Ray Show and the Discovery Channel.

Some say I remind them of Rachael Ray. She's so perky and spunky and does things her own way. And she does strange things with food like making Red Velvet Whoopie Pies and coating Fried Chicken in curry! That proves it is entirely possible to fry pasta-nests. I've been DVR'ing her show, and making a list of meals I want to prepare, once I have money to go to Fairway.

The Discovery Channel is a surprise addiction. I've always been a history buff. Just try and beat me at Jeopardy. Bitch. I'm learning all these wonderful facts, such as the 7 possible ways the world will end (plague! massive volcanos! rise of the machines!), each of the 13 colonies had their own bill of rights however Rhode Island and South Carolina we're all like "bitch, please. That's not how we roll in the Palmetto State/Smallest state in the nation!", and most importantly James Buchanan was gay! Wow, right?? I always thought he had an incestuous affair with his niece, Harriet Lane. In reality he was schtuping Franklin Pierce's VP! Franklin Pierce paid no mind, since he was still grieving over the death of his son. He was decapitated before President Pierce's eyes!!! Sucks, right!

Now I'm no Franklin Pierce or William Henry Harrison, which is good because Harrison only served three months of his presidency, after succumbing to pneumonia after giving the longest inaugural address in US history. Three hours! Bring a book! Anyway, cutting to the chase, I may be out of work and lolligaging my days away, but at least I'm continuing my education. As we all know, men dig smart chicks who watch the History Channel!

Mondays mean only one thing...job search!

2009-07-27T01:14:00.003-05:00

I do one of three things, every 6-10 months. I move, I look for a job, and I come up with a hair brained scheme. I move so often because I have had the worst luck with roommates. By far. My one positive situation was in the East Village, but the other roommates, as amazing as they were, had predilections for drug use, casual sex, and Brooklyn. Other then casual sex, the other two were deal breakers. Of course, I have the most wonderful roommate now, so let's not dwell on that subject any longer.

As for the hair-brained schemes? Well they typically consist of delusions of grandeur i.e. traveling to Iceland and the Shetland Islands, eating one meal per day for 2 months, becoming an internet sensation, booking a suite at the Pierre Hotel, and walking into Cartier and purchasing a Love Bracelet. There's a reason we call these things hair-brained, yes?

Now speaking of le job, well that's the story of my life, isn't it. I've always been a Nanny. I consider it a profession, and one that has it's own level of prestige. Our portrayals have typically been on Pointe. Yes, we live to serve, the children can sometimes be terrors until we come in and change their lives. Yes, the parents are the most miserable shit heads on the planet, wondering why their children love us so much. It is the latter of these reasons that my job search is one of a frequent nature.

If I wasn't so tired I would go into specifics regarding the torment and abuse I have witnessed. But hear I am, jobless - by choice, mind you - in search of another position. I've been told I'm a "downtown, Upper West Side Nanny" because downtown families appreciate my "quirky nature" and UWS families appreciate my liberal approach to child rearing. Whatever the stereotypical case may be, I'm just searching for a family that pays amazingly, treats me with respect, understands my role and doesn't misuse it, and let's me be me.

I have an interview tomorrow morning, and it's a big one. This is the sort of interview that you purchase new shoes and pluck your eyebrows for. A formal household looking for an amazing nanny. Hopefully the "rock and roll Nanny" will impress and kick some 5th ave ass.

Have you celebrated your Helen today??

2009-07-23T19:06:00.004-05:00

Today is "Helen Day". For those that don't know, this is a very special day, indeed. The routes of "Helen Day" can be traced all the way back to March 27 th, 2009, the day that my roommate Helen and I signed out lease. "Helen Day" consists of catching up with your roommate after several days of running around, shaking your money maker. In this case, my few no-show days consisted of entertaining my beloved Miles on Mon, a booze date on Tues, and a friend date on Wed. My presence was requested downtown, but I said "How preposterous, indeed! Today is Helen Day! Now kiss me, you fool!"

In the past, the celebration of "Helen Day" has consisted of me buying us Chinese Food, insisting we use chopsticks, "because real New Yorker's eat with chopsticks!" And then we watch DVR'd episodes of Jeopardy or Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Dead. Sometimes I buy her condensed milk at Fairway, so she can make us fudge. Fudge makes a great gift, you know.

Because she's a scientist, she comes home very tired. Saving the world from the arms of destruction is a tough job, and I'm glad to know she can do it. She helps me through every crisis I throw her way i.e. "Does he "like me" like me, like I like him?" or "Can you sew the button that fell off my jeans." And if all else fails, I go into one of my anal sex stories, sure to make her laugh.

Since I am without work, and nursing a splendid cold, I spent the majority of the day on the napping couch - so called the "napping couch" because it is the perfect place to take a nap. I napped in my nightgown, alternating between reruns of Maury and reruns of Full House and whatever I DVR'd from the History Channel. On days like this, it is of most importance not to ruin "Helen Day" by appearing to not have accomplished anything. So I have a plan.

I can hear her coming up the hall, either on her phone or the jingling of her keys. I run into my room and throw on some yoga pants and my Lolita t-shirt, and greet her with a look of extreme accomplishment. Of course, she is aware of my sudden wardrobe change, because she is Dr. Helen, and she knows all.

So we will celebrate "Helen Day" over a Dominos Pizza, because I have a coupon, a little Gnome Poison, and hopefully some fudge.

A special thanks to my friend date from last evening, who inspired to blog today.

Hmmm, an update???

2009-02-15T03:42:00.002-05:00

Why the hell not, right? It's only been 5 months. Well, I'm in school now, bettering myself with hopes of attaining one million somoleons before I hit 40. Then I won't need ridiculous roommates that leave dirty dishes out for weeks at a time and turn the furniture over when they don't want me sitting on it. I'll be able to own my little place on 63rd & Lex.

After 6 moves in three years, Ive decided I will most likely move out soon. Get my own sweet pad in Harlem. Oh, didn't you hear? Mama's making the big bucks now.

Yes yes, back to the rock and roll nanny trade. Amazing kids. I love this kids more then I can say. And they're SOOOOOOOO chunky! I've taught the 2yr old boy to pump his fist in the air and shout "HUZZAH!" Your welcome, nerds.

Today I'm in Philly visiting my mother, who learned to walk real nifty since being hit by an SUV 6 months ago. Yay mom. I'm still not convinced it wasn't an assination attempt.

I'm dating this deightful hooligan in the Bronx with an equally deightful back tattoo. The G.E.D. certificate on the wall, screams stability. And the scary fact is, he's one of the most stable men I've met in years.

I'm attributing this random update to the fact I've drunk three cans of Coke in the past two hours and it's almost 4 in the morning. Maybe this will be the day I start up the frequent entries again. Maybe.

Happy Day After Valentine's Day Half Priced Candy Day!

I got to 1st base (or 2nd if you're in high school)

2008-08-14T23:05:00.003-05:00

My boss is an awkward woman. She's not the most personable, and she's rather cold. From those I've spoken to, that's a typical boss. I've been spoiled in the boss department, always having ones that would totally let me take half a day if I had bad cramps or was balling my eyes out.

I attempt humour at work - a place where humour rarely exists. Most don't take to kindly to my "back-of-matchbook" humour.

I was joking aroundw/ my fabulous interns towards the end of day, when my boss came in to say her goodbyes. They're leaving tomorrow to go off to college and allow themselves to be corrupted by the man. She was giving hugs, and I jokingly held up my arms asking for my hug. As she attemped an awkward sideways hug, she accidentaly grabbed my left bbreat, full on. What is with people favoring that boob!!

My interns nearly died of laughter. It was a pretty priceless moment. The younger interns explained I got to 2nd base. I said it was totally 1st. I said we do things differently in New York. And for once I can honestly say, it was NOT the best action I've recieved in a while.

The meek shall inherit...

2008-07-28T01:03:00.003-05:00

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

2008-07-22T01:26:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-07-20T17:26:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-07-17T00:02:00.004-05:00

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!

2008-07-06T23:36:00.002-05:00

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...

2008-07-05T11:45:00.003-05:00

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

2008-07-01T00:04:00.002-05:00

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.

What Elton John meant...

2008-06-29T01:44:00.003-05:00

I saved a life tonight! Well, sort of. I was walking home after an evening in Murray Hill w/ my Bridge & Tunnel crowd, when there was this guy on 116th & Lenox just laying there, in a puddle of vomit. Like most New Yorkers, I just glanced over, and walked away. Suddenly, I was struck with the notion that I can affect change and I shouldn't be so obsessed w/ my adequit life, when there's a douche, comotose in his own man-juice! I double backed, and asked him and his friends if he was ok. I used the "I work at a Nursing Home" line. Get's 'em every time. He was conscience, but could barely stand. His friends told me they just called an ambulance. Dude! I said, just put him in a cab and take him home. I also asked the million dollar question - "did you take anything." He said no. Bingo. I wished the douches good luck, and walked home. It was exhilarating, assisting a stranger. He totally had it coming, though.

Being professional is attractive.

2008-06-26T01:10:00.002-05:00

Today I ate with at the "important" table at lunch. Starting with day one, I've hated eating in our employee cafeteria. Yes, it reminds me of Junior High. When I first walked in, I was taken back to that place, hoping to God someone would have a seat saved for me, while not judging a huge heap of Cheese Fries on my plate.

Not even bothering to put up with any chance of gossip mongering-co worker shanagans, I was shuttering myself in my office to eat whilst reading New York Magazine's Vulture Blog, then when my Mum came, I was eating lunch with her. She has a virus of sorts this week, so I decided to be sociable and eat with on of the few coworkers I enjoy being around.

I met her in the cafeteria, and she was sitting at the power table. Or the "Super Sexy Power Table." Gathered around said table was the Director of the facility, the director of nursing, the VP of something or another, and my coworker, and myself. When I wasn't eating my meatballs, I just listened. Not quite ready to stir that pot. The VP praised me, and introduced me to the important people. It wasn't so terrible. Apparently, this is what it was like for popular kids. And I didn't even have to carry someone's saxophone or buy them a necklace at Claire's. Does this mean those miserable years are gone? Of course not, I live in New York City - those people all came here! Either that, or had a kid out of wedlock. Which makes me smile.

Baruch much?

2008-06-23T22:57:00.002-05:00

I'm attempting to go back to school. I've been putting it off for many years, but when I have kids, I don't want them to be at my college graduation. I aspire to many things, most of which is greatness. I was planning on attending Lehman for Recreation Therapy, but after much thought and bs at work, I've decided to pursue Marketing & Promotions. If that terrible bitch at Spring Awakening taught me one thing, it's all about making the product freakin amazing, even when it's shit. I think there's a future for me.

The novelty of a Laser Punch

2008-06-11T22:19:00.002-05:00

This is the first summer, of my life in New York, in which I'm not at the mercy of a miserable family requiring me to trek out to the Hamptons or up to Bedford, to care for their kids while they tan. I'm quite excited I can do the fun things, "normal" things New Yorkers do in the summer. Like leave New York.

Since I have a car for a bit, I'm planning on going to the beach this weekend w/ some friends. I always loved the idea of needing to take the subway to the beach. Living in suburban Philly, loading up the car and heading to the shore was an event unto itself. Once you got out of the car, you needed to lug all of the chirs, towels, and various beach paraphanilia several blocks because parking is an issue. I can't imagine hopping on the "A" and with nary a beach bag, and getting off at the beach. And one of the best parts of driving to the beach, was falling asleep on the way home. As a passenger, of course. Have you ever fallen asleep on a subway? Those plastic bucket seats aren't condusive to a sound sleep.

Heart Murmur the musical.

2008-06-06T23:40:00.000-05:00

I think "Heart Murmur" is a kick-ass name for a band. I also enjoy having access to a car in the City, and am taking full advantage of it. I don't use it for short-distance trips, but I've gone from Harlem to the EV, Jersey, and Riverdale, of course. Al Gore, please don't smite me for screwing up your plans for total world domiation via global warming. This will all be over in few months. And Al, I get it. Really.

Ladies!!!

2008-06-01T19:09:00.005-05:00

I'm back, from a hell of a few months. I moved out of the old, rotten apartment of horrors in Harlem, to a fabulous 2brm/2bath in Harlem. The kids call it "SoHa" i.e. "South Harlem" I just call it a fabulous change. I found it without a broker, and although I nearly lost my job over the extreme time consumption, it was well worth it. We have our own roof, and I have a deck! It's a duplex! Squee!

I also left my job in Jersey, for an equally crappy commute, but better paying gig in Riverdale, NY. The Bronx. I'm struggling a bit, adjusting to everything. I'm one fo the youngest people, and there are high expectations surrounding me. It's a struggle I'll overcome.

My mother was visiting me last month, and was hit by a car. She'll be fine - luckily she's at my facility, so she needn't go to far to get on my nerves.

Still looking love in all the wrong places, my Rabbit is fine, and I got a Facebook. My roommate encouraged me; but be warned - I'm supposed to act professional on Facebook. No farty party messages or nothing.

That Meat Kitchen Guy

2008-02-25T22:44:00.006-05:00

At my nursing facility, it is a "Glaat Kosher" facility. Meaning, no cheeseburgers, shrimp cocktail, or BLT's. The kitchen is divided into two sections: Meat & Dairy. Some guy started working in the Meat Kitchen around the same time I became employed. A cute guy, with big ole' eyes and a nasty cocain habit. Actually, the cocain thing is pure speculation, but numerous gossipy coworkers verify symtoms of a coke-head.

He is the most chauvenistic person I've met. His idea of a fun evening is hanging out with Hooters Girls in Hoboken, then taking the PATH to Chelsea to hoping to get a table at Spice Market. He's a typical Jersey guy, with close-minded views on the world.

He's in love with one of my Jersey Girls, whose completely unaware of it. His self-obsessed confidant demeanor melts away around her, and turns him into a teenage boy. I, of course think he's cute and have often joked of locking the two of us in the meat locker.

Those who work amongst him say he constantly scratches his crotch. We all belive he's got a party going on down there.

Look, he's the only semi-attractive guy at work whose not married or an Ortho. We need to keep ourselves occupied and amused somehow. I believe I have just proven that women are catty, gossip mongers with nothing better to do.

Apologies for setting the women's movement back a few days.

Where the boys are.

2008-02-24T02:24:00.003-05:00

My delicious friend Miles, says one should not go out for an evening, and have expectations. I always have expectations - it's what sees me through the day. Expectations rarely become what you had hoped for. I went out with a lovely "theatre person"for dinner & drinks. She wanted to set me up with some guy. "Oh, not just any guy - he does Improv!" Well, here we go again.

I don't date improvisors. Anymore. It is my thought, that Improvisors, particularlly of the male persuasion, are sick, self-centered individuals. These are the boys that got picked on in High School, while playing D & D, collecting Spawn action figures, jacking off to Cameron Diaz in the Mask...they move to New York, wanting to prove a point, showing all the basketball-playing douchebags of the world, that they overcame the mistreatment and are so much cooler than you and I. They find a world that accepts them, and allows them to foster their nerditude and all around geekery. It makes them braver, stronger, confidant - they are the Peter Parker's of this world.

The acceptance goes straight to their penis, and they are infalliable. They move to Brooklyn & Queens, because when you're a "real performer" you can't possibly afford to live in Manhattan. Unless, your income is being subsidized my Mummy & Daddy. Then they decide to live in Brooklyn & Queens because it gives the appearance of having character and convictions. They are ironic; they wear hightops - not because they're back in style, but because they are still a child, desperatly clinging to 1986. They meet stupid fan girls, and even dumber performers, all looking for acceptance in their own right. I am a dumb performer.

We flirt, drink, and screw. It makes things delightfully awkward. We do scenes together, with so much sexual tension, we need the Cutlery Barn on speed-dial. That is it. We might date, but stupid Improv boys are busy chasing rainbows, kissing ass to teachers. You call it "networking". I call it "mutuus penis combibo" or mutual blow jobs of the mind. You're so self-absorbed, us stupid girls grow tired of these games. We settle for a drunk invesment banker, or a coked-out NYU student - granted we have nothing in common, but they can fuck for hours.

Personally, I have distanced myself from the Improv world. I don't want to be a dumb performer. I know where I want to go, and I feel Improv isn't that place. It is not my Xanadu. I cannot perform, or enjoy an evening of Improv anymore, knowing so and so is there, and he may try and speak to me. It is an evening consisting of walking on eggshells. If he speaks to me, he'll remind me how good he's doing in his little universe, how happy he is with his amazing group of friends. And I hate him for that. And then we make out a little. And then I come home, and write about it.

In five or ten years, where will I be? I know where I'd like to be, and it involves an apartment in the 60's and Lexington, and a degree. Where will the Improv boys be? Probably still at Triple Crown, drinking Stella. Boys, prove me wrong - just don't call me.

And to address the issue of last night, I think it was there was a mutual level of disinterest. Although pleasing to the eyes, I just don't want to open that can of PBR again. And he probably couldn't handle my rapid mood swings and my insatiable appetite for dick. It's been know to happen.

Thank you, theatre friend, for trying. I love you for it. Let's pick someone from another medium next time, like pantomime.

Of which we complain...

2008-02-12T05:15:00.000-05:00

I would like to move now. I hate my apartment. I abhore Harlem. If Louis Armstrong and the Sugar Hill Gang dug Harlem so much, why didn’t they stay? Why does a short Jewish girl from suburban Philly need to stay?

I’ve lived in crap holes, with crap hole roommates – hello Bovine Monster of 92nd St. But things were tolerable. I can barely sleep at night, because I hear mice under my bed. I see them climbing on my bookshelf, crapping on my 2nd edition of Lolita, chewing the spines of my chick lit. They climb on my poor Rabbit’s cage, and squeak, taunting Jemima with their sweet freedom. “We can get in, you can’t out!!! Bitch” That’s what some say. Other’s probably treat Jemima as a Yoda figure, coming to her in the night, attempting to find answers to life’s mysteries. They go back to their home, under my radiator, with tales heralding great bravery in propelling themselves off my bureau.

Point is, I see three or four at a time. My roommate and I call the landlord, and he gives us the runaround. I have an incredibly difficult time with dead animals. If I find a dead mouse, I have a panic attack. My roommate insists on using glue traps to kill them. I hear them squeaking in agony, and it kills me. Two days later, they’re still alive, accepting their fate. Glue traps are psychological touture. For some reason, my roommate keeps them around, until completely dead. If they still alive after several days, she pours boiling water on them. Hitler smiles on her for this.
We’ve killed more mice in this apartment, then Ted Bundy “officially” murdered.

Coming at ya Live! From Harlem!

2008-02-07T16:13:00.000-05:00

I've been gone far too long. I stopped blogging in mid-July, due to craziness taking over my life. Here's a recap:

August - I was fired from my post as a personal bitch to the marketing director of Spring Awakening. Failed in becoming bff's w/ Johnny Gallagher. Became Assistant Director of an "off-Broadway workshop". Whatever that means. Got fired from that too. No hard feelings, but lost a good friend. Gained an even better one!

September - Accepted a position as a Recreation Therapist in Jersey, knowing wholheartedly that a reverse commute & major paycut makes as much sence as female circumcision.

October - my roommate, and best friend of almost a year moved out, taking with here an abusive relationship that I never want to revisit. I found out I was being evicted. Meet the "Turk".

November - move in w/ my friend, in Harlem, the dumpster of Manhattan. Depression sets in. My parent's divorce is official.

Demember - travel to Florida for work. Come back, and almost loose my mind with my roommate's boyfriend constantly up my butt. Spend New Year's Eve watching Hairspray, and cheering up my roommate since she broke up w/ the boyfriend.

January - roommate back w/ asshole boyfriend. Never hear from the "Turk" again. Meet the guy w/ Asbergers, casually date. Mice take over apartment in Harlem. Plot to move in w/ fabulous gay friend sometime soon...

Here we are. All caught up!

Betty, as in Apple Brown.

2007-07-01T22:33:00.000-05:00

Another mouse. Her name is Betty, as in Apple Brown. She's tiny, and resides under the kitchen sink, and takes her weekends under our couch. Her hobbies include running across the floor, stealing take-out crumbs, tormenting my Rabbit with her freedom, and being a pain in the ass. My roommate suggested we trap her, and set her free outside. I suggested we leave a trail of breadcrumbs to a shoebox, where inside Def Leppard is playing from a tiny boombox, and there's a small six-pack of Bud.

Gearing up for the DAY.

2007-06-30T00:42:00.000-05:00

My 26th birthday is looming, and I'm in current preparations for the biggest party of my life. I've never thrown a party on my own, without my mother for constant support. She always knew the perfect place for Rachel Jankowski's sleeping bag. And my father would read Poe's The Raven to scare the crap out of us. But, I digress.

Feeling quite intrepid today, I took it upon myself to stain a table the boys downstairs were throwing away. Once the seed is planted, I quite enjoy homey projects. I picked up a small can of Minwax and a big paint brush. I swiped a bunch of AM New Yorks, and covered our bitchy ex-roommate's floor with them. Then I stained all day. The color is called Jacobean, but after two coats I think it's a lovely light shade of ebony. With the creative juices flowing, I made a huge collage to hang on our wall. Our apartment will be so wonderful, come July 14th. I just have to make sure I don't become so stressed, I accidentaly kill on of my roommates.

What to do, when you're caring for an Oscar winner's child.

2007-06-26T18:14:00.001-05:00

Living and working in New York, it's inevitable you'll have to eventually work with an Oscar winner's child. It happens. Just like death and taxes. Here are 5 easy steps to prepare you for a painless encounter with an Oscar winner's child, and perhaps even the Oscar winner.

1. Chances are, the child has been in several of her award-winning parent's films, so she must have an IMDB profile, as well as a Wikipedia page. Read up on the child - no one like an uninformed caregiver.

2. Tidy the playing area, to a calebre that only the child of a celebrity can appreciate. No need to put away Variety, Entertainment Weekly, and People - especially if the child or the child's parent is on the cover.

3. When preparing a meal for the child, always confirm with the parent/assistant/nanny that the child isn't a vegatarian. If the child is a vegatarian, you must alter the entire meal, to the parent/assistant/nanny's specifications. And of course, everything must be organic.

4. Unless the award-winning parent's most recent film was an unexpected blockbuster directed by Michel Gondry, never make mention of the parent's illustrious career to the child. She know's her parent rocks.

5. When meeting the Oscar-winning parent, be demure and slow with your actions. Never make any sudden moves. Remember, you're approacing the situation, not as a fan, but as someone paid to care for a child. The only time a freak-out is permitted, is if the award-winning parent was in a Michel Gondry film.

I hope this helped!

When your Daddy loves another lady.

2007-05-30T00:17:00.000-05:00

I've been keeping this ordeal to myself; it's actually quite painful to talk about. Things of this nature, don't typically bother me. But, things like this never happened to me before. In mid-April, my Mum called me up, explaining my father was going to Church, for Easter. We're Jewish. He was showing interest in the Messianic Jewsish culture aka. Jews For Jesus. We (my Mum & I) thought is was incredably strange behavior for my father. He's one of the smartest & most funny people I know - so much of "me" is a reflection of him. We also thought, this was just a weird mid-life crisis coming a bit late, and it would pass.

Several weeks later, my Mum calls me again. "Your father put a Jesus Fish, on the car." She then ripped it off.

She went to Florida to visit her mother. When she got back, my father wasn't there. He didn't call her the whole week. When I would call him to check on him - he's been known to fall down the stairs from time, to time - the phone would ring until midnight. He was at Bible Study.

Once my father did come home, he told my mother he wanted to divorce her. They've been married 31 years. And although they constantly fought, I really thought they loved one another. I can't analyze this part of the story right now - it hurts. What I can tell you, is that before my father became a Jew For Jesus (he accepted Jesus as his personal savior), he and my mother managed. They struggled, but managed.

I haven't spoken to him since the beginning of May. We soon found out, he purchased a cell phone, with a separate plan. And he's been chatting a lot with a woman that does Bible Study at the nursing home he works at. I continued to beleive he wasn't cheating on his wife. My father's to smart for that.

It's the woman, who introduced him to Jews For Jesus. And she doesn't know he's married. And she has a son my age. And she's 15 years younger than him. He's 65, mind you.

Part of me want to call this woman, and scream and yell at her. Another part wants to hook her manly son onto musical theatre & tap dancing.

My mother is taking all of this SO much better than I am. I'm really amazed. She says a weight has been lifted off her. I'm so mixed up about the situation, and I really don't know what'll happen next. I'm just working constantly, and surrounding myself with friends & white chocolate. That helps.

Busy like a Muff Diver.

2007-05-28T13:19:00.000-05:00

How has your Memorial Day weekend been? Mine has be an insane, work-filled frenzy of glamourousness. Almost. You may note, I work on every major holiday - I can't remember the last time I had a day off for Christmas, or got to spend Thanksgiving or Passover with my family. You might also note, I've been doing this since I was 17. More on that, later.

The "ticket lady" family is in London, for the opening of "Fiddler on the Roof" - thanks to my roommate's stealth behavior & crazy-like-a-fox M.O., I discovered, the mother pumped a good chunk of her own personal coinage into this production. And she gets to bring her daughter.

I'm typically not envious of the priveledged children I work with. Granted, their trust funds are are almost as large as the National Debt, they have more toys than the Shah of Burma, and have a better wardrobe than Ms. Furstenburg, they live in completely fucked up homes. Really fucked up. But, when I hear that this little girl gets to travel to London, 3-4 times a year, gets to go to the Tony's, and has more stamps in her passport than a Sailor, I get kinda pissed.

Yes, I'm going to the Tony's as well - but just the rehearsal!

When being awful is a full-time gig.

2007-05-23T00:52:00.000-05:00

Original post deleted. Sorry, Ace.

I missed you too!

2007-04-21T19:11:00.000-05:00

Level 301 is kaput, and I have to say, I'm sad. These were the best of times for me. It was great being with people that genuinly supported me, no matter the amout I suckage I projected. Some of my 301-ers will join will for 401 beginning at the end of May. Yay for me.

Apparently, my life is still bloggable. I've just chosen to not write about it, lately. I'm not really THAT busy. I come home at 9 or 10, on a daily basis, but I sit at my laptop and just fart around on it. Less farting, more wisdom. Take that lesson, and stick it in your lapel.

Let's see. Some interesting tidbits to chew on.

-I feel rotten. I have the sniffles and sneezes, and I just want some Sleepytime Tea and a sound sleep.
-my roommate threw Oatmeal at me last week. Much like the color red makes bulls angry, hot pink nightgowns with the word "Sexy" spelled out in sequens do the same to my roommate.
-she downloaded a photo of her Vagina onto my computer. After some detective work and determining it was her Vagina, I made it my desktop backround.
-After class last week, I walked in on her having the sex. Consequently, I ate a slice of pizza with the Mafia down the street, instead of the confines of my living room.
-I choreographed a dance routine for the two girls I work with for their talent show. Moments before show time, one girl backed out. I saved the day, and performed with the other girl. I am awesome. At least Kelly Ripa thinks so.

And we're back.

2007-04-02T22:22:00.000-05:00

After a quick jaunt to Easthampton, I'm back, packed, and ready to go to Boca with the fam. Not my fam, of course. I purchased a smart new suitcase (which my roommate pointed out, I'm quite pleased with), bought some black chino shorts, packed my Marc Jacobs jellie sandals (which I gladly inherited from a former employer) and my laptop. And my camera of course! I'll be blogging about this adventure as often as I can.

My two other roommates are also getting out of dodge. One is going to Texas, the other California to see their fam for Easter. Who's taking care of my Rabbit? My friend from down the street. Don't worry, she'll be fine. She's also making sure our TV is still there.

Had we known...

2007-03-31T17:11:00.000-05:00

Here's a funny story; my horrible, ghastly roommate was moving out. Yay! We found a delightful, seemingly normal fella to replace her. My dream of have an living situation like that of Three's Company was slowly coming true. And I'd be Terri Alden (Pricilla Barnes) because of my caring nature, impecable comedic timing, and tremendous rack.

But alas, dreams often don't come true. The horrible roommate decided 3 days before super duper suit-wearing fella moves in, that she's not moving out. I feel so sad about this situation. My father says, "that's life in the Big City, for ya." He also says, "Bebe Neuwirth has legs up to her neck, and Loretta Swit as a chest that won't quit." But I digress. Oh my.

In other news, I'm pacing myself as far as entertainment and excitment is concerned. Tomorrow, I'm working with one family from 10-5, then imediatly getting on the Jitney to East Hampton to deal with the ticket lady and co. Monday night we return, I go home, feed my Rabbit, pick up my suitcase, and sleep at my other bosses house - we have to leave at 7am the next morning. Then we have 6 14 hour days of fun in the sun (yeah right), followed by 2 10 hr days w/ the ticket lady, then I have a makeup class, followed by my normal class. What a week, I'm about to have.

I've been getting complaints from the Peanut Gallery, concerning the quality in my writing, and it's decline. Well, guess what suckers? Improvement is upon us. I'm so tired at the end of the day, and nobody wants to hear about how many posters I counted, how much dry cleaning I picked up, or how I got a kid to stop isiming. I promise to be more motivated, and write better quality goodness. Also, it's difficult because I never used to have a need to censor myself. Now that my friends read this, I can't say what I really think of them. Especially you, Melissa.

On second thought.

2007-03-27T01:52:00.000-05:00

Cat sitting was...exhausting. I spent a good pasrt of the weekend, worried whether or not the animal would still be alive when I got home, and whether I'd have a job come Monday morning. This cat has a price tag, with an hourly rate. You may be wondering, why there was room for concern regarding the animal's safety. Because she ended up on our fire escape at least once, and in the hallway another time. All I'm saying, is that I was at work the whole time.

The walk home, and the day as a whole.

2007-03-22T00:18:00.000-05:00

Class was tough. I'm not going to lie. The Autistic teenager I care for, thinks my teacher's too tough. That's not really the case. I ADORE my teacher. But, class was really weird this evening. Maybe it's the half-way slump. I'm so pleased, because at this time during 201 I hadn't really clicked with my other classmates. None of us really hung out. It wasn't until after 201 was over, that friendships were forged. Whether they will continue forging along, is a different post altogether. But here, we all get along and genuinely like one another. I told them I really don't write about them, but I just can't help it.

I ADORE YOU GUYS!!!

I went to see Chicago today, just to see Phillip Casnoff. Damn you, Phillip Casnoff. Were you to busy giving Bebe Neuwirth a foot massage, to come out to see little old me? He was dead sexy today. Let's use this as a segway to hornyness.

I am. Often. Maybe I hide it well. Or not. I was never the one that got off on a famous actor, or hot sex scene. Or Dexter. No, I'm the one that gets her rocks off, watching certain members of the male species perform on Broadway. Watching some of them, my toes curl right in my shoes. I'm not saying I get bizarrely aroused by a promo shot from Chess in 1986, featuring Phillip Casnoff. But I'm not not saying that either. Maybe what I'm saying, is that I'd like to have sex. Now works for me.

Here's a brief list of fictional characters that I find attractive.
-Barney Rubble from The Flinstones
-Captain Caveman
-Peter Brady
-Jack Tripper
-Joey Gladstone
-The Riddler
-that kid from Even Stevens (he's legal, don't start)
-Harry Potter
-Caracatus Potts (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)
-Cyclops
-Fred (Scooby Doo)

There's a Mao Mao in the hizz-ouse, a Jew on a plane, and another on the street.

2007-03-20T19:12:00.000-05:00

Many exciting events are taking place in The Valet's life as of late, and it's best we spill a few of the good tidings.

Firstly, as the post title suggests, we're (my roommates and I) are getting a cat. Sort of. I'm cat-sitting for a week, while my boss and her kid ski the slopes of Park City. The cat's name is Cosette, a name I can't stand, so I call her Mao Mao. Like the Puerto Rican Gang in Brooklyn, during the 1950's. I've always wanted a cat, and I'm curious how she'll interact with my Rabbit.

Also, as I've previously mentioned, but know reiterating, I'm going to Boca for 4 days with a family. I've traveled with familes before (the Hamptons, upstate NY, Jersey shore) but never on a plane. I promised the kids I'd put together kid-friendly airplane bags filled with enough goodies to keep them entertained for two hours. The day before I leave for Florida, I'm going to East Hampton for another job. Whatta life!

But the best news, is that our horrible old roommate if FINALLY moving out. How wonderful!

When it's cold outside, what are you supposed to do?

2007-03-16T23:22:00.000-05:00

Watch Showgirls, of course. I love Showgirls, in the way some love The Lost Boys or Citizen Kane. I pick up little nuances everytime I watch. My roommates have never seen this classic, and since the weather was so horrible, I insisted we watch. I'm still trying to convince one of my roommates to dress as Nomi Malone for Halloween.

One of my favorite moments;
when Nomi and James, the black dancer fella are trying out the routine, and he puts his hand down her pants. She stops him, explaining she's on her period. Or as I say, being menstrul. And because she's been around many untrusting people in her life, she tells him to check. She was telling the truth, the whole time!

Getting it? Got it? Good!

2007-03-15T12:49:00.000-05:00

Class was pretty fabulous last evening. I'm putting myself out there a bit more, and next week I'll stretch even more. We learning how to perform Organic Openings. The only downside of learning the Organic Openings, is my pants kept falling down - it's hard to get group mind, when you're concerned they're all going to see your underpants.

We all went back to Improdome at the P.I.T. again, and rocked the shite out of it! This time there were two groups of us, and my groups was just brilliant. What can I say? We are hilarious!! Apparently, we're making this a weekly thing, so if you're jonesing for some Valet Improv Lovin' check me out around 11.30 on a Wed. And if you just want some good ole' sweet sweet lovin', say hi to me at Cage Match tonite. I'll be the girl gazing dreamily at Ben Rogers.

My pal Sam, made this for you, which I lovelingly hotlinked. Do you have second billing? Didn't think so. Enjoy!

It's a jumble!

2007-03-13T22:33:00.000-05:00

Where have the days gone? Here's what you may have missed:
-I officially hate my job
-I REALLY want to go to the Tony's.
-Did I say I hate my job? I LOVE my job, and I LOVE the Tony's.
-Actually, I enjoy my job, I hate my boss.
-It will most definatly end in tears and screaming, hopefully after the Tony's.
-One of the kids found profos in my wallet.
-This was the one time in the history of me - with the exception of all of my Junior year - that I carried profos with me.
-Ernie Sabella is a jolly man
-My new favorite restaurant might be Joe Allens.
-Old Italian men find me and my hands attractive.
-"Where the Sidewalk Ends" is STILL the best book to get kids to enjoy reading.
-Carrying 100 window cards to 50 restaurants isn't nearly as easy as it looks.
-I'm "the best Nanny in the whole world".
-I have "buzz."
-I still get week in the knees for British & Scottish boys, particularly those working behind a bar.
-I missed you.

A piece of the puzzle.

2007-03-10T14:18:00.000-05:00

My family is small. Really small. It's just myself, and my Mum & Dad. Both my parents are only children, and three of my four grandparents died before I was born. The only living grandparent - my mother's mother - lives a bitter existence in Florida.

Her name is Minerva, she's 86, and we haven't spoken in almost 2 years. I have 2nd or 3rd cousins, that went onto live prosperous, wealthy lives. Apparently, I have a handful of cousins that are doctors & lawyers (per norm), and one that supposedly models for Chanel. Minerva has/had 8 brothers and sisters, who pushed their children to succeed, be captains of industry, have stable families.

She used to tell my Mum, that we're a dysfunctional family because my parents had huge arguments that sometimes resulted in my mother getting a hotel room for the night, and they couldn't control me. She thought my illness could be turned off, if I tried hard enough. Truth is, she abhores anything related to mental illness, and she continues to deny she had any part in depression running in my family.

I've tried to figure out where her intollerance of mental illness stems from, and I think might have figured out a big piece of the puzzle. Their was once a psychiatric hospital in Northeast Philadelphia, called Byberry Hospital. It was for the mentally unstable, and it was exactly what one thinks of when they think "mental institution." Horrible conditions, mistreatment of patients, etc. It was shut down in 1990, and the remaining paitients were transferred to one of the State-run hosiptals. Later in life, I'd work with several of these tranplants, at a nursing home, and their stories were so farfetched, they had to be true. It's a huge, looming property with underground tunnels connecting buildings, that became a refuge for the homeless and the drug addicted. People had websites, offering secret tours - if you were caught, you'd be arrested for trespassing. Growing up, I was told Minvera had 7 brothers & sisters. A great aunt of mine informed me, they had an eigth sibling - a sister. I was told she was admitted to Byberry when she was eight, and lived there until her death at 15. My grandmother refused to speak of her, and I don't even know her name. This was news to even my mother.

Her first husband, Sam died of a heart attack when my mother was 18. Story goes, he doted on my mother, and my grandmother resented it. She was very neglectful of my mother. She remarried two more times - putting another husband in the ground, and another in the poor house. She has a boyfriend, going on 12 years now. He doens't like me either.

She was constantly on me about my weight, my grades, and my asparations. I egged her on, to the point of her needing to rely on Valium just to be in the same room with me. As I became older, and life finally started to come together, we started up a great, mature relationship.

Some of you know, my first time living in New York, wasn't on the Upper East Side. I tried out Tribeca from August to October of '05. Although I was interviewing 3 times a day, practically every day, I couldn't get a job that paid well enough for me to make rent. I called my Grandmother crying, asking for rent money ($1500). She refused to give it to me, because she wanted to teach me a lesson. Because of that "lesson", I had to move back into my parents 1 bedroom apartment, slept on the couch for 4 months, and communted to New York 3 days a week, interviewing. I haven't spoken to Minerva since then. I was her God damned Granddaughter - her only grandchild.

She would send me $50 on my birthday, and Hannukah. And she called me on Yom Kippur, because her endocrinologist said she should try and make peace with me. I hung up on her. Since then, the money has stopped, as have the calls. She asks about me, when she talks with my mother, but my mother is very vague on my life, just as I requested she be.

So, why bring all of this up? Well, it seems I'm traveling with a family to Boca Raton next month - and we'll be stayinh withing 5 miles of Minerva. I have absolutely no desire to reconcile or even acknowlege her. My Mum says she has Parkinson's, and my only periodic question pertaining to her is, "How advanced is it?"

A 36-hour existence.

2007-03-10T06:11:00.000-05:00

I have to be at work in two hours. I chose not to sleep, but to chat with my roommate all night, order take-out, and watch Tivoed Lost, that HILARIOUS Rainn Wilson episode of SNL, 3 episodes of Jeopardy, and NY1 on mute. I'm not really groggy, and I've functioned like this before. I wouldn't recommend a normal person, of average strength being awake for 24 hours, then working a 13hour day. Ok, perhaps I'm a bit tired. I just need to use some of my H20+ Mint body cream, pop a couple caffine pills, slick on some Cranberry Lip Glaze, and I'll be off.

By the way, my Rabbit is extremely perturbed with me. I'll delve into her new (now deceased) cage visitor at another time. Anyway, the visitor chewed a hole in her bed, and stuffing starting coming out. Since that's harmful if ingested, I had to throw the bed away. In place of the bed, I bought her a delightful, super soft arm chair. Oh, well she's very upset; thumping, throwing her chair around, dumping her food. She's very much like me.

Stay tuned for our 1st annual Easter card - It'll be a freaking delight!

To do.

2007-03-09T16:09:00.000-05:00

I've been in Philly. I've been home since early Thursday morning. Penn Station at 8am is nothing short of Hell. And I know Hell. Many things to take care of; got a new driver's license photo taken (I STILL look sleepy in driver's license photos), purchased a new bed for my Rabbit, rocked out to Benny Goodman on the tape player of my Mum's Pontiac, and didn't spend nearly as much at Target, as I could've.

Speaking of Target, has anyone tried Method cleaning products? They're super duper cheap at Target, and super duper awesome! My roommate turned me on to them; all natural ingrediants, bio-degradeable goodness, yummy scents. Females dig this BS. But, I reccomend you try them - the candles are quite nice as well.

But wait.

2007-03-09T01:22:00.000-05:00

I've got something to say. No, not over there. Look down. Lower. A lot lower! Can you hear me? Should I speak up? Oh, maybe if I write it out - oh, sky writing would do quite nicely. Hmmm, Jumbo Tron! That's it. I'll totally get my point across with that! This is so great, because I have so much important stuff to say, and I just know you want to hear it. Right? Hey, wait - where did you go? Oh, there you are - you were where? Talking to those people, in the other room? You want to go back? Sure, no I don't mind. You need what? $10 bucks? Hey, make it $15. I know, I know - I am sooooooo nice. That's kind of you to say. No, I won't mind if you say horrible things about me, to people that never met me before. I mean, once they hear the stories, the won't want to come within 50 feet of me anyway. So, really you're doing me a favor. Just for that, make it $20! What's that you say? No, I disagree - I do know how to say "no", and I really don't crave big you know whats. But, don't worry - feel free to tell any and all people that I can't and that I do. I mean, just look at you with you're big group in the next room - you telling lies about people you don't really know is a heck of a lot more interesting, then me telling them how wonderful you are. I guess it's time to shift the conversation, anyway. I agree - it's time for me to get going. Yeah, I'll be fine. What, it's only 3am - the "L"'s still running, right? You assume so? Good enough for me. Hey, are you going to be all right getting hom - oh, you've already left.

Fancy Spread!

2007-03-08T13:09:00.000-05:00

Check out the lastest issue of NY Magazine - FABULOUS spread of the cast! Wee Hoo! Wee Woo!

I'm pretty famous today.

2007-03-08T01:36:00.000-05:00

Class was a beast tonight. I can blame my allergies acting up, as to why I wasn't "present" but that's not it. I'm showing all the symptoms of being "in my head." I spoke with my teacher after class, and he said I get it - I just have to trust myself. I would really love to.

It helps I'm really comfortable with my class already. We went to The P.I.T. this evening, and a few of us performed at Improdome. I quite enjoyed it, and it's really good to be performing again. We didn't win, but our group knocked a bunch out of the park. Hopefully, we'll have a practice group going soon.

I'm about to pass out, so goodnight to all you lucky people.

I'm ALL moved in!

2007-03-07T13:54:00.000-05:00

Officially! Now, I can take that $150.00/month and buy lots more cosmetics! No, not really - I'm joking. See my smirk? No, really I'm going to take the money and join a gym. I'd like to stave off the diabetes for as long as possible

MOVING DAY!

Speaking of Broadway crushes...

2007-03-06T23:46:00.000-05:00

This is my original Broadway crush. Michael Cerveris - I've seen every Broadway show he's ever done.

-Tommy
-Titanic
-Assassins
-Sweeney Todd
-Love Musik is next!!!

Whee!

Never engage the Tigress; she's lible to eat your face off.

2007-03-06T23:28:00.000-05:00

Not really newsworthy, but I purchased some new jeans over the weekend. Not just any jeans, but the sort that stains your legs indigo while elongating your legs, and making you smile for miles. Apparently, my boss noticed my jeans, and all around pleasant demeanor, because she's been really nice to me the past two days. And that scares me.

In the past two days, she's asked about my weekend, complimented me on my weight loss and dewey glow, pardoned me when I sneezed, and gave me some free passes to the Reebok gym on the UWS. She also invited me to some show-related business this weekend, at the Tourneau watch store on Madison. If I finagle carefully, I can show off my cute new dress to the cast and work a 13hr day. So, something's afoot.

Old Springs Pike, was a decent show this evening. It's folk rock, which isn't exactly my bag. But, Johnny can surely rock out, so I come for that. And you should too. We finally spoke this evening, chatting about our mutual likes and dislikes (improv, and my boss respectively.) He's oh so young, but I'm not one to discriminate.

Tomorrow is sort of a big-ish day. I'm FINALLY emptiying my storage unit, with the help of a man-with-a-van. Where the hell were you people, when I needed you? And then class. It's strange, I've run into two of my classmates out and about, very randomly. That never happens to me. It must be Kismet - either that, or we all have a crush on Johnny Gallagher and we all take the 2 train at 9.30 in the morning.

We found a good one.

2007-03-05T00:58:00.000-05:00

A new roommate, that is. Our open house was a smashing success, and although we only saw 4 people, it was an easy decision. And yes, that was me on the fire escape in my pajamas, shaking the rug out - you're welcome.

He's a very nice Brooklyn-born boy, who rounds out the craziness the rest of the household posesses. I've only lived with my boyfriend, but never another guy. He seems smart enough to put the seat down, and to stay out of our own personal dramas.

We all got the warm fuzzies from him. And for the three of us to agree whole-heartedly on something is a pretty big deal. He was warm, amiable, and asked to play with my Rabbit - I know other boys who don't care for such things. We're all super excited. Whee! New Blood!

In other news, GO SEE BLACK SNAKE MOAN!!!!!!!!!!! It's the best movie involving a chained up Nympho since Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! It's such an amazing film, I can't say enough good things about it. So I won't. Go see it now!

OPEN HOUSE!!!!!!!!!!

2007-03-03T19:35:00.000-05:00

Come to our Open House tomorrow, from 2-6. Tell your friends!

The "help".

2007-03-02T14:20:00.000-05:00

The families I work with, have additional "help". I've worked in fully staffed households (butler, maids, Major Domo, security detail, driver, dog walker) and we all know what happen to those gigs. But still, the current families have a handful of "extra hands".

One mother has two other nannies besides myself, and a weekly housekeeper - not uncommon. The Autistic boy I work with, has two other nannies, a live-in housekeeper, and a cook. But the family I work with most often, has 3 other nannies, a full-time housekeeper, a bookkeeper, and me. And I do everything else that's not in the above's job description.

I've only ever worked with two of those three nannies. One is a middle-aged woman from Trinadad, who instantly brightens up my day. She's hilarious, doesn't mince words, and adores me - which is always a good thing. The other women is from Guatemala, and speaks little to no English. I speak enough Spanish to get me out of a jam, but she gets really offended when I try and speak Spanish to her. It's awkward sitting across from someone you know, and not speaking to them. She's warmed up to me - I have the best intentions, and a winning smile - but there's some resentment on her part, I can see.

Improv, class 1!

2007-03-01T01:38:00.000-05:00

My father has explained to me, Jack Benny would always get nervous before The Tonight Show. I'm no Jack Benny, but I felt like him before class tonight. I was quite nervous. But guess what, fans & foes? I rocked the crapp out of class! It was wonderful, I was fabulous, and the class was super-duper awesome. See you at Myspace at UCB tomorrow night! Time for bed; I have to be in early - my boss is getting a Colonoscopy. It's common knowledge, don't you know?

Customer Support, my ass!

2007-02-27T20:09:00.000-05:00

Back to the real world. Well, as "real" as one can expect with my life. Yesterday and today, have proved to be extremely trying days. My boss purchased a Palm Treo 750, the newsest model. It's only compatible with a PC, which she doesn't have. Yet, she's convinced she can sync up her old Palm to my PC, and magically the info will transfer to her new Treo. I was on the phone with Tech Support until 10pm last night, and for 6 hours today. Bottom line, it can't be done. She kept yelling at me to "be more forceful" "demand to speak to a manager." Bite me. Really.

The 7yr old made me a present over the weekend; a replica of my apartment made of Legos, complete with a roommate in the living room. I'm glad someone appreciates me around here.

Just a reminder, Johnny's band Old Springs Pike is performing next week at the Knitting Factory! Get your tickets, while you can.

Oh yeah, I begin level 3 tomorrow at UCB. Nervous? Um, hell's bells yes!

And we're back.

2007-02-25T22:33:00.000-05:00

It was an "event", shall we say. It was emotional, surprising, underwhelming, outstanding. Basically, it was another topsy-turvy weekend for me.

I didn't sleep at all, the night before. I left the house very early, put my Ipod on shuffle, and shuffled to the L. I'm a big believer in symbolism, and the first song to come on was "Bless the Lord" from Godspell. He and I were both in Godspell. Don't start with me - I'll take what optimism I can get. I was Sonia, if you were curious.

He just moved into a new apartment, and the proper thing to do is to give a housewarming gift. I had no time to purchase one earlier in the week, so I hoped a dumb touristy shop in Times Square was open at 7.30 in the moring. One was. I got him some stupid, horribly tacky homey things I knew he would like. I got some wrapping ware at Duane Reade, and wrapped the thing on the bus. Hey, I was a Girl Scout - always be prepared, or fake it 'til you make it.

Once we arrived in Reading, memories started seeping in. I saw the big event sign on the hill at the Inn at Reading, where I had my Bat Mitzvah. I remember standing next to it, in the gray rain, wearing my shoes dyed to match my dress. We had to take the picture quickly, because a wedding was waiting for their shot. And we passed the multiplex where I had my first group date - we saw Philadelphia. Yes, I chose the movie.

I was practially jumping out of my skin. I had my whole "exit off the bus" planned. Of course, he was 10 min late. But the homeless guys waiting at the bus station, seemed to approve.

I won't go into a shot-by-shot recount of the events that transpired, don't worry.

He introduced me to the cast of his show, and they were all so welcoming. It was a workshop of an original piece. My big complaint was the first act was over two hours long. But he was fabulous. He sang sitting atop a piano, and had perfect comedic timing. He's making this SO hard!

It was a pleasing weekend, all in all. It's even more apparent now, we're ridiculously different. Equally, it's quite clear I'll never find someone like him. We left things rather optimistic; I could see myself spending the rest of my life with him, or never speaking to him again.

Thanks for the reminder!

2007-02-24T04:42:00.000-05:00

The big question. Why am I so scared to see this guy, this weekend? It's not just about this guy, but everything this guy symbolizes. Reading was where I became ill, and one could say, it was in part due to him. With this guy, this was my first foray into performing. When I moved away, I pretty much abandoned the idea of performing for years. He was the one that got the wheels turning, putting the idea into my head about moving to New York.

In Creative Writing class, I would write many stories about the two of us running away from this awful town, to Manhattan. Mrs. Becker said I had a lot of promise, and that pulling out Tic Tacs in class was unsophisticated and inappropriate. She's dead now.

This was the place, where I quickly realized I was so different. Now, I treasure that, I wear it as a horribly disfigured badge. But as a young teen, being different is your key to the Gates of Hell. Theatre and music were the only places I felt accepted. And I was good at it. This guy reenforced everything good and wonderful about me.

The first time I met him, we were working in a summer improv class. I'd never heard of Improv before, but I thought it was easier then memorizing lines. He was this tall and lanky Hispanic 13yr old, and horribly sunburned from being at the Jersey shore for Independence Day. There wasn't anything spectactular about him. I'd never met a boy that enjoyed theatre and singing and acting.

He went to Parochial school, and lived in a pretty crummy part of town. Our parents didn't really approve of the two of us, due to religious reasons, among other things. But we were just kids, nothing could come of it.

School started in the Fall, and I began auditioning for community productions around the county. At auditions, I'd be on the lookout for him or ask about him, but nothing came of that.

Eigth grade was one of my most difficult years, with being Bat Mitzvahed, being in two shows at once, band & chorus, my father losing his job, and the illness now running my life. When I performed, it never was an issue. I thought I'd never hear from the guy again.

That summer I entered the same improv workshop again, and he was there. Everything came rushing back, times 10. We began speaking on the phone, every few nights. Unfortunatly, I couldn't function in the program this time, and had a mild breakdown during rehearsals. The director called me, the day before we opened and told me I was out because I was "mentally unstabile". I'll never ever forget that for as long as I live.

I moved back to Philadelphia, a few months later. Our phone calls began taking place on a nightly basis. One night, I told him I loved him. He didn't reciprocate the feelings. Of course we were just kids, how could we know what love is. I knew.

When I found out I was going away to school, the understanding was that I would be unable to have easy access to my friends and my life in Philly. I wanted to close certain chapters in my life, so I could open new ones.

A few weeks before I left, he came down. I'm not sure what I was expecting, and I figured out what he was expecting. After he left, I burned the only photo I had of him, and went on with my life. As far as I was concerned, he was poison to me and I couldn't have that at this point. I was trying to get well.

As I became older, I slowly but surely forgot about him. I no longer sought out people showing similarities to him. I quit this stupid obsession.

But with every major step forward (finally learing to drive, working full-time, loosing 100lbs, accepting myself, giving up medication, and moving to New York), I thought about him. Where would I be, had I stayed in Reading. Had we grown together. I know, I wouldn't be here.

We found each other a few months ago, on Myspace. We're very different from the way we were 10 yrs ago. And we're polar opposites of each other now. That's a comfort to me, because it makes this a bit easier.

I swore to myself, I'd never go back to Reading. It was a horrible place, and I've blocked so much of it. When I made my millions, I wanted to buy the theatre I performed in, knock it down, and build a Bennigans. Reading never had a Bennigans. I really didn't think it would take this guy to bring me back to the place where it all began.

A Cease-Pool of Evil.

2007-02-23T16:23:00.000-05:00

My roommate still hasn't moved out yet. As we know, I abhore her, and everything about her. I went to bed quite late last evening, around 5, and awoke fairly late today, around 2pm. I go into the bathroom, and the window's wide open, my big yellow towel hanging from the sill blowing in the frigid breeze. Perhaps it's my zany living room dwelling roommate, up to her old tricks. But, I enter the living room, she's sound asleep. The TV is blaring One Life to Live, and the coffee table is littered with mirrors and straws. I've accepted my roommate's habits, but I don't neccessaraly like them.

Her silver-plated shot glasses were corraded with her Cover Girl Lipslicks, and the drain was clogged with her pubes. Not attractive.

Wow. Wowie, wow wow!

2007-02-22T21:47:00.000-05:00

I'm willing to go celebate for this. Imagine, if I did work for this show.

It's Beautification Day!

2007-02-22T13:23:00.000-05:00

In preparation for this weekend's sojourn, I'm making visual improvements upon myself. It's a day to sew buttons back onto coats (no, I cannot sew. But, the Tailor on 10th St. does marvelous work), color hair (yes, I do that myself, remember?), begin outfit organization (my roommate has final approval), and change my Rabbit's cage (any volunteers?).

I was quite excited to have this day to myself, but another roommate magically came home from work just now. Le sigh.

If you can't tell, I'm extremely nervous about this weekend. Petrified, in fact. I have to rinse the colorant out, but I'll delve more into this issue later.

What I was supposed to do, as opposed to what I did do.

2007-02-22T01:02:00.000-05:00

It was a busy off day, today. I woke at noon - which is a rarity for me - and went to Target with my roommate. Target is a magical place where time stands still. You go in at 2pm, find cute clothes and and Super Glue, and walk out 7 hours later. I've never been to the Brooklyn Target, and I was very happy to have an expert with me.

I was supposed to go see Sho perform at UCB tonight, but Brooklyn had other plans for me. So, to the two standby-ers, who got in because I never showed up - your quite welcome. I was home in tim to watch Lost, and drink some wine. Apparently, my roomate and I are drunk a little bit. I know this because she's wearing nothing but a coat , be-bopping around the living room, holding my Woody Allen DVD collection. Now, she's humping the TV. And I'm sort of sloshed, because I can't stop giggling. Now she's humping the green chair. She's just informed me it's dress-up time. She's a cheerleader. Now she's putting her underwear. Clean ones, I hope.

Update; she's just informed me, "It's time to get serious." Then she tried to smother me with a floor pillow. Now, she's a Pirate.

Johnny's Band.

2007-02-21T23:52:00.000-05:00

Johnny Gallagher, and his band, Old Springs Pike are performing at the Knitting Factory on March 6th, at 7pm! I finally purchased my tickets, but please let me know if you'd like to join me and the gang, for this delightful evening!

Oh, and don't forget; Spring Awakening will be on the View tomorrow morning. It's worth putting up w/ Joy Behar & Rosie. Trust me.

Don't forget!

2007-02-21T12:52:00.000-05:00

The delightful cast of Spring Awakening will be on Letterman this evening, and the View tomorrow morning. Duncan Sheik will be performing with the band, and David will most likely be interviewing him. Also, they've reworked the choreography, so expect something new and wonderful from my pal, Johnny and the rest of the fellas.

A Grand Day Out!

2007-02-20T22:53:00.000-05:00

It was Ladies' Day Out, today. Put on your prettiest skirt and some flavored lipgloss, grab your doll, and drop some cash. Follow me!

Start with lunch at the Jekyll and Hyde Club, in Midtown. Be prepared to spend some serious scratch - lunch for 3 was $60. Yes, that includes the entrance fee. Also, you must be willing to put on your best British accent, so you can screw up the costumed actor messing with you at your table, while you're trying to eat.

Then, hop over to F.A.O. Schwartz to check out stuffed animals bigger than some aparments, and gasoline-powered Jaguars and Audis - just the right size for that Mohair Teddy Bear!

Don't worry, Lego Chewbacca will save you! Try your hand at "Heart and Soul" - I'm quite good. Sorry, no photographic proof of that.

Cap off the day, with a visit to Dylan's Candy Bar. I don't recommend the Shirley Temple Floats - no matter how pretty they look, two tired 7yr olds will be ungreatful at this point in the day.

To keep two little girls happy during President's Day Break, follow my fool-proof plan, and you'll walk away having had a delightul day, get to do things you could never do with your own money, and go home with next month's rent in your pocket.

Speaking of film...

2007-02-18T09:16:00.000-05:00

Some of you know I'm super duper excited to see that new movie, "Black Snake Moan." Super duper excited doesn't even begin to cover it. The girl is CHAINED UP! She's a nympho! Come on, that's good cinema! I'm a HUGE Christina Ricci fan, and I eagerly await any film she puts out. Have we seen the advertising campaign they put up around the subways? Everything really is hotter down South!

For some fun, and to take the "Are you a Nymph?" quiz, check out the film's website. If you're curious, I'm a "Tame Nymph." Yeah, I'm rather surprised too - I thought I was at least a "Moderate Nymph."

We have a trailer.

2007-02-18T08:51:00.000-05:00

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Laura Linney isn't nearly as imposing as she should be. A family like that would NEVER allow their kid to go on the subway. Like I've been saying, don't get me started.

A good, good day with no furor.

2007-02-17T23:05:00.000-05:00

As the title implies, today was a wonderful, delightful day. Arriving bright and early, armed with Monopoly and Shel Silverstien, it was a picture perfect Nanny in New York time. The marathon Monopoly game began at 9am, paused for lunch around noon, and reconviened around 1.30. The 7 yr old beat me, royally around 3.30. Grandma treated everyone to lunch at Jackson Hole, and she spoke down to me, only slightly. She reminds me a great deal of my Grandmother, whom I haven't spoken with in almost two years. My Grandmother was a condesending woman, who greatly disproved of my depression and subsequent behaviors, and the final outcome - me living. In my experience, many Jewish Grandmothers are very similar, and my bosses mother is no exception. Perhaps she's not as bad as I say, and I certainly get points for taking stellar care of her grandchildren. But she still resents me.

After Monoply, we went to the Natural History Museum to check out the new exhibit, "Origins of the Human Body." It's pretty sweet, and I certainly recommend it to all ages. Full on skeletons, awesome dioramas. Two opposable thumbs up! Funny, huh?

We dined on Latkes at a Jewish Deli on the UWS; apropos for the day, I suppose. After or filling meal of Jewish soul food, we read from "Where the Sidewalk Ends", my most favorite childrens book in the universerse. Just ask me to receit "Sick" from memory.

I closed the evening with songs (yes, I'm the Nanny that sings the kids to bed) by Billy Joel (Downeaster Alexa), Les Miz, and my bedtime ritual song, "I'd Rather Be Blue" from Funny Girl.

I'm home now, no one else is, and I'm enjoying the momentary peace. God knows, it doesn't long around here. What, you're disapointed this post isn't as salacious as it should be? Hey, dummy what do you want from me? Nothing exciting happens when you work all weekend - I've gone over that with you. Although I have an opening in my Jerk Circle, you pestering me isn't going to get you in. And yes, Matt Dillon - it's still "on."

By the way, I'm very, very proud of this fella, and his Maneating Flesh of a Virus improv group. I recomend you follow their exploits. They had people asking, "What the crap is a Thank You, Robot, and where can I get one?"

Fantasia Barrino says hi!

2007-02-16T14:41:00.000-05:00

Hand delivering a package for my boss in Midtown, she and her entourage accompanied me on the elevator. She smiled at me, and I smirked at her, because that's what I do when I see a C-Level celebrity.

Damn you, Matt Dillon!

2007-02-15T16:21:00.000-05:00

Ok, Dillon, I get it. There's something about you, or something about me, but let's face it; we'll never be friends. You scowl at me, and close elevators on me because perhaps I'm a threat to you. Maybe I am; I perform menial public relation tasks for a Broadway show! And I take care of kids! What's the story, Matt? Are you mad at the world because of Herbie Fully Loaded and One Night at McCool's? You can't coast of Coppola forever.

One of these days, when we're both on Conan, I'll tell the story of the time you let the elevator door close on me. And we'll laugh, and laugh. But until that time, let it be known, I loathe you Matt Dillion. We are now sworn enemies. It's officially "on." My feud with you has begun.

The things we do for love.

2007-02-14T23:13:00.000-05:00

I had this elaborate post, detailing the two times I've been in love. Truly in love. The sort of love that makes you crazy. But, I've decided to save that for the memoir. Looking at my post, I realized how drama-filled my life was, compared to now. Yes, kids, my life is a walk in the park now.

In my last blog, I shared so much. I've since become more guarded, and I'm sad to say, that's the way it's got to be.

For the sophisticated romantic.

2007-02-14T17:07:00.000-05:00

Could this Valentine's Day get any better?

2007-02-14T12:52:00.000-05:00

It's Valentine's Day, a Snow Day, and my Off Day! I have a fun day of Jack Squat planned. It all began last night, when I got home. I had to work horribly late, so I could see my boss off the London. I then ordered Mexican food, watched the news, and played Monopoly with my roommate, royaly beating her ass. I'm like Sybil, when I play Monopoly. And I will kick your ass.

After futsing around, just hanging out it's now time to pay some bills. And time to watch All in the Family. Who doesn't love All in the Family? Today's episode is the one where Gloria gets fired because she's pregnant.

Tonight, I'm watching Lost, opening a bottle of wine, and thanking God I don't have anyone to share this day with - because I'm not going out in this weather.

You know you've arrived...

2007-02-13T14:50:00.000-05:00

when the New Yorker draws a cartoon likeness of you! As soon as I swipe this issue from one of the kids' therapists office, this baby's going on the fridge. New desktop backround? Yes, please!

Improv, Boys, Trust

2007-02-11T17:57:00.000-05:00

Day 2 of my class with Rob Riggle finished a few hours ago. A complete 180 of yesterday's class. I just didn't trust myself, wasn't present, and pretty much sucked. These are the same issues I dealt with during 201, and I forgot how much I hated facing them. Riggle said many encouraging things after class to me, that really helped. I wish I WISH I could stay present in a scene; he said I have to stop self-writing so much. Don't Think, I know, I know! I'm still excited to start 301, but I'm so petrified. I can do this, right?

Riggle is performing at ASSSSCAT! tonight, and he said he'll be teaching some classes in April and during the marathon.

Moving right along, I picked up one of the kids from a playdate today, and I swooned. I haven't swooned is a long time. At the door, the playmate's older brother answered. Honestly, words didn't come out if my mouth, and I just stood there looking like an idiot. The more he smiled, the less functional I became. I didn't get his name, but he was SO handsome. Holy cow, he was delicious. This is not a typical reaction, mind you. And don't listen to my roommates is they say otherwise. If we all have a physical "type", he was mine. Nope, you're not getting any details - like all good crushes, I'm keeping this one to myself.

Jerry Seinfeld says hi! Finally!

2007-02-11T17:43:00.000-05:00

Walking towards his apartment building, a Seinfeld sighting is one of the best sightings! He's incredibly thin, as was rocking the baseball cap and sunglasses combo. Were it not for the paparazzi milling around his building, I would've missed him completely. I don't too often get visibly "starstruck" - shocked, I'm sure you are - but I couldn't help standing there, mouth agape. Freaken Seinfeld! And to think, I almost took a job in this building.

Back in the saddle, again! Whee!

2007-02-10T15:11:00.000-05:00

I just came from my first UCB class in 6 months. I can't believe I haven't performed in so long! This was just a workshop, and I took it to get a jumpstart on level 301 which begins in two weeks. It's no big surprise, I can be VERY self-concsious about myself, especially when I perform. Improv is so incredably different than musical theatre. When performing a song, I'm not shy or scared because I'm confidant in my abilities as a singer. I'm not entirely confidant in my abilites as an improviser, mostly because I went 12 years without it, and this new improv world differs so greatly than that of Reading, PA.

Rob Riggle is a tremendous teacher, who really gets "it." He's so reassuring, and gives amazing notes. I wish he taught classes on a more regular basis. Basically, this workshop teaches us to find the "game" as soon as possible. While I appreciate the some of the class wouldn't ask him about his tenure on SNL, or what Jon Stewart smells like (of course I'm curious, but I'm not paying money to learn about what a hardass Lorne is, I'll figure that on my own.) I understand why they do it. Most of the class has completed 401, and I belive I'm the only one who hasn't done 301. There were some Harold Team members there, and it's pretty sweet performing with them. A chick from Tantrum and I had a good scene. If anything, this class will teach me to become more confidant in my abilities. Because if I'm not, how the HELL will I EVER be able to find the game?

Riggle also said, the teachers nowadays are too easy. He said Besser used to make men cry. They really weeded the rifraff out. Can't wait for tomorrow. It's good to be back.

Because I went to work, then to class, and then back to work, I'm requesting no one tell me about any fun plans this weekend. I just can't do it, I'm way to exhausted.

The cast of the show.

2007-02-10T09:12:00.000-05:00

We all know my love of the show I work with. I don't need to say the name; you get it. I wouldn't be nearly as excited if I was working on Tarzan or Phantom (I've never seen Phantom, by the way, and I hope I never do!). One of the reasons the show is so fabulous, is the amazing, AMAZING cast. All younger then me, some are still in High School. These kids (wow, I'm old) are such professionals. And they're not that fazed with their sudden celebrity.

It's pretty cute to see them Myspacing each other, knowing whose dating whom, and who their favorite musicians are. If more of them were of the legal drinking age, I know we'd be hearing about them in Page Six. And I have it on good authority, some of the cast swings by UCB from time to time.

Here's a fun little interview with one of my favorite castmembers. He's such a smarmy little horn-ball in the show...and he's only 20! Pick up Time Out New York this week (yes, the Valentine's Day issue), for a fun little blurb about my pal and yours, Johnny Gallagher.

Don't forget, they're on Letterman on the 21st, and the View the following morning.

Why I'll miss my roommate.

2007-02-09T22:54:00.000-05:00

+Drunks are funny!
+Her loud sex reminds me of what it's supposed to sound like, only sadder.
+Jews are funny!
+She's the only person in the apartment who dresses worse than me.
+I'm one notch higher on the Rape Scale.
+Drunk Jews are hilarious!
+No one else in the apartment truly hates me. Pure hatred doesn't come around that often.
+No more Hitler jokes. sideways frowny:(
+I'll forget what a person slowly killing themselves, looks like.
+The only two-faced person in my life will be the Two-Headed Monster on Sesame Street.
+Who will scream at me now? My boss doesn't count.
+I can't do an uncanny impersonation of my other roommates.
+"Yo", "Dude", "Son" and other cultured terms might leave my lexicon.
+"Drugs are Drugs"
+Being reminded of why I pretty much abandoned my religion is a much easier issue to deal with, then the other crap I have going on.
+She makes my life look like a freaken picnic.
+Who will tell me how "retarded" people who attempt suicide are? In fact where will I get cracker-jack advice about the Mental Health field, from someone who knows what she's talking about, now?
+Small trash can fires are exciting
+I do like Clinque face wash
+No one else will take photos of me and invite me out, then try and stab me. Verbally, of course.
+She makes nepotism SO glamourous!
+So THAT'S what a real family is! I never want to be independent, or be a grown up either! To much responsiblility is hard.
+Hearing an Aria from The Magic Flute at Warp 12 volume as a ringtone just won't be the same, if it doesn't ring at 4 in the morning.
+It might not be appropriate to use the "C" as an adjective quiet as often, anymore.
+Not have any work ethic is a nice reminder of being 13.
oh, there's so many more reasons as to why I'll miss you, you horrible little minx. As we get closer to a move out date, I'll be listing more.

What you've missed...

2007-02-09T22:32:00.000-05:00

Being busy isn't funny. Nothing amusing comes from working all the time. There's so much I've overlooked in the past few days...

-on Super Bowl Sunday, my roommates got skunk-drunk and were "grabassing". Hey, Joe Francis, forget Cancun. I've got your Girls Gone Wild right here.
-A delightful interchange between two HUGE black men on the subway, went from possible violence, to a Jamba Juice exchange. Warm fuzzies all around.
-a roommate is moving out. Stability will commence. Sort of.
-She's a bitch.
-I'm going to my depressing home town in two weeks (for the first time in 12 years), and I'm scared to death.
-I've been drinking more, so technically I can no longer state that "I don't drink."
-When you apologize to someone, you might get some ass. This is not normal, and one shouldn't make a habit out of it.
-Pay attention to things people say, particularly things related to the opposite sex.
-When a person farts, and says "Safety" she deserves a good smack. Especially because she's a bitch.
-When a bitch yells that you're "insane, need meds, and is fucked up" demand a reason as to why. Especially, when you have a Ven diagram supporting your reasons as to why she's a crack-head.
-Roommates talk to Rabbits, when you're not around.
-Blogging while in the company of my roommates continues to inspire me

And the chesnut of the night, straight from the brains on the house;
"language is the essence of human life."

And if the day couldn't get any zanier...

2007-02-09T02:42:00.000-05:00

Anna Nicole Smith is dead. Wow, didn't see that one coming. Should something be said, to make the passing any easier? Yeah, I can't think of anything either.

Shenanagans!

2007-02-09T01:49:00.000-05:00

It took place, and I was involved. For a change. After work, myself, the roommate, and the old roommate went to see Factory Girl. Wait, hold the phone, Sisterfriend! Let's back up. I had wine before we went! And it was red! And I picked it out. On the Upper West Side, no less.

After our Chinese-Red Wine-Rocky Horror Chat session, we poured the remainder into a Vitamin Water bottle, and cabbed it to the Angelika. Factory Girl is an enjoyable movie, nothing to write home about. Sienna Miller is a decent Edie Sedgwyck, but I wouldv'e prefered a documentary about her. She seems like a fascinatingly, disturbed person. Stay for the end credits, as there's some interviews with people who knew her. And Guy Pearce as Warhol was a pretty cool deal. Very blase, and captured Warhola to a tee. To enjoy the film at it's highest level, bring red wine in a Vitamin Water bottle - and don't share with your friends.

I had an adorablly endearing wine mustache from drinking out of the bottle. Aww, shucks indeed!

Then we went to a NYU-approved bar, that smelled like Kerouac and douchebag. And I drank more. I was a fun person tonight. Are we really surprised? We knew the transformation was coming, right?

My roommate and I are home safe and sound. Goodnight, New York. You're not so bad after all - no matter what they say.

An open letter...to my Boss.

2007-02-05T16:05:00.000-05:00

To one of the several that pays my bills;

I put up with A LOT of shit from people, particularly you. When you're having a bad day - which is practically every day - and you take it out on me, I willingly allow it. I keep telling myself, the more I can put up with, the bigger the prize in the end. But let me tell you, it might not be worth the trouble.

Let me also tell you, that if you EVER speak to me in the manner in which you chose today, again, I'll pop you in your God Damned mouth - verbally, of course. Sweat-shop workers get treated better, than your treatment of me. At least they get a lunch break.

You're a hideous tyrrant, who totally gets off on pushing me around, and seeing me take it. But, I'm about to stand my ground with you. I'm going to demand a raise, because I'm not performing just 1 job - I'm performing 3. And I'm going to insist on some time to myself. It's to freaking bad you HAD to be at the theatre tonight - I didn't realize we as a world, revolve around you.

In closing, be prepared for me to begin standing up for myself, and agaisnt the mistreatment you produce. Seriously, your mother F!@$ing mouth!

Much love,

TSV.

Happy Fracken Super Bowl, Sportsfans.

2007-02-04T23:33:00.000-05:00

Yay to whichever team won. I was confined to a mamouth house in Short Hills, awaiting a Super Bowl party that never happened. I and the teenager watched Tommy, ordered Italian food - which the giant dog proceeded to eat, when I went into the kitchen - and danced to Cab Calloway. A decent Super Bowl evening.

If I wasn't so tired, I'd elaborate on his 15yr old brother's crush on me, the mother's crazy sunglasses collection, and the super-fun mini-ballroom in which I practiced my tap dancing in. There's always next time.

In super fabulous show-related news, I had to work late last evening because someone working VERY closly with the Today show came to visit our show. She liked it a lot, and hopefully the cast we'll be on it mid-month! Don't forget, they'll be performing on Letterman towards the end of the month. Personally, I'm pulling for Conan. The boys are also walking in Jill Stuart's fashion show this week, and they're in Teen Vogue this month. You never saw Patti LuPone in Teen Vogue!

Now, I'm going to shower the train off of me, and go to sleep. I have many dreams to catch up on.

Pledges and codes, be damned.

2007-02-03T21:12:00.000-05:00

Who did I work for today? Why, I'm still at work. First, the teenager and I went to the New York Transit museum. What a fun place! You can sit in the old subway cars! Wow! Did you know, the subway cars back in the day had cushioned seats? And little fans! And were painted mint green, or bright red and purple! Wow, right? Because I'm slightly lame, I think this would be a fun place to take a date.

Now, I'm working for the ticket lady, and was given 3 suprises upon entering the house. The first one was an invite to something I've always dreamed of attending. And that's all I'm saying about that right now. The second was in the form of two additional little girls. It's a slumber party. I deal w/ multiples very well, and nothing's better than a bunch of girls. But one of thse kids is such a spoiled, rude little pain. I feel bad scolding a child who's not really in my care, but this kid needed it. The other little girl is a delight, so smart and polite.

They're currently watching this horrible kid's show with an equally horrible name, "The Naked Brother's Band." One day I'll make an entire post about this horrible program. It's that bad.

All of this, and I was able to cram a friend's performance at UCB inbetween. In a bit, it's time to start stuffing envelopes. My roomate's are right - I am "Day to Night Barbie!"

Remarks, reminders, remainders of the day.

2007-02-03T00:13:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm pratically done handwritting 250 address labels. No karioke for me, Sirs and Madames - it's all about the big prize at the end of the day. I worked two families today. The crazy Nudist had me organize her insane collection of CD's today. Have you ever known an obese 50-something Jewish women, who LOVES Jamiroqui, Rick Astley, and The Chemical Brothers? I do. I made a joke to her that she must be the only person who actually bought the soundtrack to "Wild Things." She said, "Oh, it's so sexy. Let me show you." No thanks. Ugh, if she asks me to install a pole in her room, I might die.

She also requested I stay later on Thursdays to help the 7yr old with homework. She says I'm quite the tutor. I'm not really, I just don't allow distractions, and continually give positve reenforment. That's what the kid needs. The mothers I work work bribe the kids into doing their assignments. One might as well throw everything fun about learning, out the window. If learning is made out to be a chore, of course the kid won't want to do it. To quote this particular 7yr old, I'm so good because I'm the "Rock and Roll Nanny." And to her little friends, I'm the "comedianne." God, I love this kid.

After all this, I headed to Penn Station (still no wallet) to take a train to Short Hills to pick up the Autistic teenager. Navigating the Gladstone train line is quiet a feat, and I ended up somewhere in Newark. After finally arriving in Short Hills, I picked up the boy (he's 18, he's not really a boy) and planned on bringing him back to New York. It's tough when we're in a large crowd, because he speaks so loudly and so repeativitly, and he's become so physical with me. He respects me in a way he never did with his other caregivers. He told me they tried to hire a new girl during the week, and she quit because he "peeked" at her while she was using the toilet. He's never invaded my personal space like that, but when he hugs me, he tries to put his head on my breasts, and he often has his arm around my shoulder. I explain "friends don't act that way," but it's a very hard concept to grasp for him. I watched him on the train tonight, looking out the window, trying to imagine what he was thinking, and feeling. All the while, he kept a smile on his face, and I became sad. This happens often to me, working with Autistic children. When I used to work with the 4yr old, I'd cry for a long while after one of our sessions. I can't really explain the feeling I get working with these kids. Out of all of the disorders, ailments, and diseases a human can be afflicted with Autism might be the most peaceful, beautiful affliction of any.

12 days a week.

2007-02-02T12:19:00.000-05:00

It feels like I never get a break. I'm working all weekend, all of next week, and all of next weekend. This show isn't going to promote itself, I suppose. If I can bank enough by April, I'm going to England for two weeks, in the summer. I haven't been on vacation since I was 21, and it was to England. One could say I'm a workaholic. Luckly, I do enjoy what I do, to an extent. How many people can say that?

WALLET UPDATE - Penn Station think's they may have it. Keep your toes crossed. Feb's rent was in there, as well as my SS card, my first driver's license from my "fatty fatty 2x4" days, and of course my credit cards, and some cash. Thankfully, my roommates loaned me some cash, and a Metrocard.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; It's really tough being me.

WALLET UPDATE, part 2 - Penn Station is full of Ass Holes. They said nothing usually turns up for at least a week.

Ugghhh!I

2007-02-01T23:08:00.000-05:00

I lost wallet on the train tonight. I never lost anything like this before. Hopefully it will be returned. Hot damn, I'm so stressed right now.

I dreamed a dream.

2007-02-01T11:23:00.000-05:00

I had the most bizarre, realistic dream this morning. I don't often dream about anyone specific, and I'm not one to dream about people in my life. But today I did. It involved a celebrity, which I refuse to reaveal, because it's a tad embarrassing.

I dreamnt I drove to my ex-boyfriend's house. walked inside, and this particular famous person was in his bed. He tried kissing me, but was awful at it. He told me he was cold, so I tried to go down on him. He pulled away. Suddenly, I hear my father's voice. And I'm in my pajamas. He tells me to go with him, to leave here imediatly. I then, wake up, and my father is telling me to get up, so I can drive him to work.

One would think, the dream wouldv'e ended slightly differently. There's always tonight!

Sign me up!

2007-01-30T12:10:00.000-05:00

If this is what Alan Strang had ACTUALLY looked like in the film, I probably wouldn't have gone into convulsions afterward. Damn, Equus! Dayam, Harry Potter!! Excuse me, I need a moment...

EDIT - And then, there's this. What is the age of consent in England, by the way?

Did you sign up?

2007-01-30T11:24:00.000-05:00

I sure did!!!