It's Murder on the Dancefloor

It's tough performing eight shows a week, two matinees. For me, it's part of my daily existance. Alltering myself to fit someone else's needs, must make one feel quite good.

One of my roommates is such fun, a real treat to be around. I look forward to coming home, and chatting all evening with her. I haven't had a friend like her in I don't know how long. We share some common interests, enjoy each other's company, and continualy make one another laugh, but we are fairly different.

She invites me to hang out with her friends, friends she's had for years. Right away, there's a bit of resentment and contsternation towards me, but that's understood when someone new invades the sacred sanitarium of friendship. These girls are very cool. They treat me well, and I feel they've accepted me, to a point. I think they feel I'm not a threat towards them. I'm safe. Reliable. Square. And to a point, that's true. But it's tiresome trying to prove to someone who's not of the same fiber, that a Square can coexist with a Hipster.

My roommate invites me to places, I wouldn't typically be clamoring to go to. But, I moved to the City, wanting to expand my horizons, experience new things. I come with her, simply because I like her company, and I'd love to get to know her group a little better.

This evening, we went to a dance club in Williamsburg or Greenpoint. It's all the same to me. The music was so loud, the lights were so bright, the people were so hip, I quickly lost my ability to keep up this charade. I desperatly wanted to leave, but I hung in there, for the sake of my dignity, and my social life. I followed my roommate, like a scared child lost in the mall, but she was all right with it. She made sure I didn't become lost, which I appreciate. Unfortunatly, she didn't realize I was lost the moment they stamped my hand at the door.

I left, and her friends seemed to support this decision. "Here's an easy way to the subway." Although my roommate was concerned, I didn't want my departure to hinder her enjoyment in any way.

I just walked the vacant streets of whatever pretentious town I was in, just telling myself not to show any emotion. I wanted to get lost, I was so hopeful I wouldn't find the subway. The lights of Manhattan teased me from across the river, and I knew I deserved that. I deserved it, because I shoud've known better.

Although scared and saddend by my poor choices, I pressed on. I refused to ask for help; I was determined to make it out of this on my own. And like other obsitcles in my life, I made it through.

Wallow in my sorrow, if only for a moment. Like a cocaine buzz, this to shall pass.

Join me this evening, at 8 at UCB for some Krompf. Thank you to those that made the previous evening, so blogable. Now, I'll go to my lunch table, and you go to yours. In ten years, we'll laugh about it - well, I will when I tell the story on Conan.

Oh, and you'll be happy to learn Jack-Ass is offically over and done with. But I am concerned for him. Emotional impotance is a very real problem in today's society; the Mental Health field has grown leaps and bounds, and I'm sure the right medication for your social disease, is out there. As for your physical impotance, again let me point you into the direction of proper medication. And please take comfort in knowing, I had the dubious honor of being the first person "bed" on your bed since you moved to Brooklyn. It's strange, because you weren't even in the room at the time. Nella guerra delle parole, vincerò sempre. Vaffunculo. L'Estremità.

Mike Myers says hi!

Planning on going to Sing Sing for some much needed Karioke, with - well, that part's not really important. But the point is, I was waiting for my group to finish their cigs, when through the window at Sing Sing, I see one of my idols, one of by biggest celebrity crushes, the best part of 54 - Mike Myers!!!!!!!!!!!!! Because I have such respect for him as a performer, I didn't disturb him and his much younger girlfriend. Does that mean, I'd verbally abuse Kirsten Dunst or Dane Cook - it's a definate possibilty. He's hair is cut so beautifully, and is so shiny. The wait for singing was horribly long, so I left. Oh, you'd never ever hear the end of it if I had sung Pat Benetar for Mike Myers! Never.

You want reality? I've got your reality right here.

My career hit an all time low today. Playing Checkers with the 7yr old (she beat me only once), the mother (nudist) comes over and sits down. She asks, "I hope you don't think I'm crossing a boundary, but would you mind giving me a massage?" This was in front of her child. See, I have a problem saying no, in basically everything I do. I'm so eager to please, and consequently I become a doormat of sorts. You're wondering if I gave in? Well, that's what Purell and electric shock therapy are for.

Now, I try not to be judgemental about people, but it's quite hard sometimes. And if I am judging, I keep in to myself, usually. But today, I couldn't hide it. The mother, who as a reminder weighs over 300lbs, asked me to get her some Ben & Jerry's from the market. She was very secretive about it, because she disn't want her children seeing her eat. I was to get 8 pints of ice cream, in an assortment of flavors. My immediate reply was, "Eight? Do you really want eight pints of ice cream?" She appeared shocked, as if it's perfectly normal to devour enough ice cream to feed the children's wing at Bellvue. Relizing my faux-pah, I apologized, "it's none of my business what you do with your ice cream." See how smooth.

I was told to call her, if certain flavors were unavailable. After three markets, I called her from the Gristedes at 84th & Columbus. She instructed me to read every Ben & Jerry's flavor they carried, all 23 of them. Once she was happy, I took the pints to the cashier. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is, buying eight pints of ice cream all at once? Almost as embarrassing as admitting I gave the crazy lady a massage in front of her daughter. Oh yeah, she gave a few of those massage moans. Time to go set my hands on fire.

there's a crazy guy playing my clarinet, and I'm not pleased.

Don't even get me started.

Firstly, the movie's tagline in eerily similar to my memoir's title. Secondly, she's SO wrong for this role - no, I'm not getting into it, just trust me. Finally, if as a Nanny she was attending a function where her charge was required to wear formal dress, she would be required to dress much, MUCH more demurely then pictured. Come on!

There's never a happy medium; integrity does have it's price.

I don't attend the Cinema often. When I do, it's usually for kid-related fare. Or Shortbus. Which would you choose? So, I was pleased to take the 7yr old and her companion (who claims to be a Princess in Ghana*) to see Night at the Museum. I had just begun working here, when they were filming. It was the first time I'd walked through a movie set, and, well you can guess my level of mania was quiet high.

It was a fun movie, but I was most excited because I'm a huge History buff, I love LOVE Dick Van Dyck, and the screenplay was written by Robert Ben Garant & Thomas Lennon. I love & support any State-backed projects, even if that includes Herbie Fully Loaded; sadly, it does.

time to dole out medicine...

Swoon worthy!

What's that you say? You say you weren't one of the 512 people to see the 2 month Broadway run of Chess? Oh, you missed Shogun the Musical & Rockebye Hamlet as well? Do you love Golden Globe nominees that fade into oblivion? I see. Well, you dig tremendous talent, comanding stage presence, and raw sexuality? Me too! Come see Chicago with my father's Hebrew school student, the one and only...Philip Casnoff!!!!!!!! It's at the Ambassador, in case you were wondering.

Little girls, little girls; everywhere I eat, sleep, and breath them

Today, I'm a commodity. I'm being "shared" by two families. In the "biz" we call this a Nanny Share. In reality, this is what the Confederate party was fighting for. Normally, the mothers coordinate the share amongts themselves, leaving the Nanny somewhat out of the loop. Here, I'm the liason between the two because they don't get along with each other.

The two girls know I care for both of them, and they are aware I act a particular way with each one. I'm very careful not to play favorites; it's really easy for me to care for 2 or more kids at a time. I just prefer multiples.

Switching gears slightly, I forgot to explain myself for my somber behavior at Cage Match last evening. On the way home from work, I got on the "6" train at 77th St.. I like the "6" almost as much as the "4". I typically take the "C" to the "L", but the crosstown bus was sitting there, looking helpless, so I hopped on. At 33rd St, a small group of Asian NYU students got on, and squished up agianst me. There was plenty of room farther down the bench, but whatever. Suddenly, the girl right next to me opened up a small Tupperware container of food. Weird. She began eating what appeared to be a small salad, and was gesticulating like mad with her fork. She was making me very uncomfortable. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something shiny in the container. It was scales. To a fish. Oh, crapp I though I was going to be sick. I then noticed something else - an eye. The freakin fish this broad was eating, had an EYE!!!!!!! The man sitting across the way, asked me if I was allright. I said yes, why? He replied I was turning green. The women finally realizing my discomfort, apologized and moved. I got off at the next stop, Astor Place, and proceeded to vomit outside the Starbucks facing Cooper Union. I'm sure I'm not the first person to spew into a trash can in the East Village.