I've gotta say, it's been an eventful week.

This week. I am currently receiving a reaction from the three or so weeks of applying and submitting to a slew of internships, jobs, and odd jobs. The current goal is to get some type of paying job, or jobs, but I want nothing that will turn me into an android. I am going to work for my writing. Those who are doing so will understand this statement.

Since I have not been able to catch my breath since Wednesday, we'll start at Monday.

Monday was the online 'I drive safely,' course. Thank you North Carolina. There were lessons learned. Apparently driving at night while donning sunglasses is a no-no. Sigh. Also, if one misses sleep for 24 hours, it is equivalent to a tall drink. Fatigue driving, drunk driving, the two are close brothers.

Tuesday was Rehearsal of a scene from 'The Gingerbread Lady,' with my partner T. She's my drunk mother, Evy. And I, the mothering daughter, Polly. She took me up to the Freshman dorms. I finally got a glimpse of what they've been hiding up there. Eh. Then it was coffee with Mr. Art. Yeah, friendship, my nicely shaped backside. It's half my fault, I give too much eye contact, it's a fatal flaw. "It's always exactly the same thing: it was settled by looks, smiles..."

During Wednesday's afternoon I wrote about Ms. Windy. Then it was a dash off to the UES to a Trivia host interview. We were told to break up in teams, I approached a fellow interviewee, G. We decided the best name for our team of two was the, 'Craigslist Killers,' he spelled it, "Killhaz." We got along quite well. I didn't mind giving him eye contact. After a few rounds his business friends joined, then a friend of my own. As for the interview, both parties were drunk, the employer drunker than I.

After this K and I stopped at a pizzeria for a - end of the night - slice. While there, we met a man with a large black portfolio folder. The three of us got to chattering about his day, about his folder of marketing ideas for a product he will be introducing to the US, a drink. We gave our opinions of the images, as the talk continued we tried the "Papita" drink, and tasted the fruit in it's dried form? I am still confused about this.

The night was capped off by an incident with a drunken judgmental Christian. Minus 2 points for the Christians. I told him that due to his intoxication, he was in no shape for the judging. At which point he told me: "I'm not drunk, I'm tired, I've been looking for my wife." My response: "Yeah, that's the same thing."


Thursday I awoke at K's to a shower and an apple. Then I rode the subway to the Mid-East for a mag. internship interview. I left with a yes. (Silent applause. The elaboration will happen.) Then it was off to school where I yelled at Evy for being a flop mother, "How am I supposed to respect you, when you don't respect yourself?" Then it was sandwiches with a friend at Baohaus in the East Village, go tis good.

Friday I spent more time with Ms. Windy. Then it was off to a farewell party for my dear friend G. She's heading back to Paris. This makes me sad. I like her for all that she is. I have started to think differently about a few things due to her. Thanks for that.....The party? It was a party. I believe we all know what happens on such occasions.

Early Saturday morning I nagged myself to get out of bed, threw myself together, and caught the train for the city yet again. I had a gig (Is gig the right term?) for a Caroline Herrera shoot. This shoot was at a Penthouse at the X hotel. At arrival I had my face painted, then it was lunch, then I spent the next four hours pretending to be a guest at a fabulous party. For the most part it was lovely getting paid for such activities. It became slightly trying when lounging out on the terrace san coat while attempting not to shiver, while bundled-up director persons told us, "Have fun! Have fun!" At one point I was asked if I could unhook my bra because it was ruining the shot, I can't do that with one hand, my name is not magician. I told him to simply do it himself, so he did.

After that ordeal it was one final dinner with G and friends. The French do not fool around when cooking a dinner. The hors d'oeuvres were many. When one dish was near finished, another was introduced to the table, I was thoroughly impressed by this.

Then we said our good-byes.