This is terrible. I have not had time to write. What have I been doing? I have been driving full speed towards success. We'll discuss the success at a later time. Something is happening next week, but I don't want to speak on it until it happens. It's bad luck.
I have a number of grand things planned for tomorrow and if it's all canceled due to weather I am going to be sad. Even if it does snow, I hope Southern girls night in dinner doesn't get canceled, more on that at a later time.
Smile.
"Smile, though your heart is aching
Smile, even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You'll get by"
No, I am not aching, the song moves my heart.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Velvet Cupcakes
On a recent night, I made an appearance at a party I have been putting off for about a year. Well, it wasn't this specific party, there were several parties thrown by this particular host that I have been avoiding due to a fear of Brooklyn, or better plans.
In the process of deciding on whether or not to ditch again, I stood there texting on the subway steps to a friend who was waiting for me uptown. When I was approached by:
Guy 1: Is she calling you?
Me: Huh?
Guy 2: Are you calling me?
Me: That doesn't make any sense what so ever.
Guy 1 proceeded to the street.
Guy 2: I like your stockings, are those orange lines?
Me: No, it's red. See? (Leg out.)
Guy 2: O it looked like orange.
Me: Nope, red.
Then it was chat chat chat.
Me: Well, I have to go, I think I'm gong to this Brooklyn party?
Guy 2: The loft party?
Me: Yes! Your invited to that too?
Guy 2 shows me an invite on his phone.
Moral of this story: I took this as a sign from the stars. Guy 2 tipped the scale.
After exiting the Bedford Ave. stop I followed verbal instructions to a friend's apt. Then it was getting to the party. On route I learned that a person in our group and I had a common enemy. O how lovely that was. She was more irate at this person than I. She claimed that this person was a rapist due to a certain colorful blog entry he wrote. And although this person is on my blacklist I attempted to explain that, he used a distasteful analogy, that he simply does not own a mouth filter, that he'll say any old thing, regardless how it affects others. And sure, I would love to push his belly button in really hard because he belongs in a zoo. But rapist, he is not.
Anybes, at arrival of this party I knew. I knew it was not my scene. How to describe? It was a sweaty jungle. This was not the hipsters crowd, because I can deal with the hipsters. There was an older gentleman with grey dreads that looked like a pirate. Enough said?
With a $4 drink in my hand, I thought, lets see. After let's see a guy from our group told me that:
Guy: You know, you look like Leighton Meester.
Me: Who's that?
Guy: The brunette from 'Gossip Girl.'
Me: The bitchy one?
Guy: Yeahh, but you're sweet and nice.
Me: You don't know me yet.
The two of us laughed, but I had another secret laugh going on since before going out, I watched the 'Good Girls Go Bad,' music video, which is featured by Miss Meester, who inspired my makeup for the evening. If they only knew.
If only the party resembled this video, even slightly, I would have been a very happy girl.
At one point a member of the group who was with us, strut over and told the guy I was talking with to open his hand.
Guy: What do you have?
Girl: Open.
Girl places a pill in guy's hand.
My thoughts: O lawd please let that be an over sized tic-tac.
Twenty minutes or so later guy asked me what my views on drugs were.
Me: I don't do the drugs, but I have no problem with other people that do.
Guy: Good, cuz I took the pill. It's in here. (Rubs stomach.)
Me: What was that?
He said something weird.
Me: What does that mean?
Guy: It's like E.
My thoughts: O Jesus!
Seven minutes after:
Me: Well, I think I'm going to go.
Guy: Is it because I took the drugs?
Me: What! Nooooo. (A beat) I have friends waiting for me. Where can I find a cab from here?
While I put my coat on outside a Mr. Jacket approached to find out where the cabs were to be found.
Me: I have no idea. I was told to go right from the front door.
The two of us commenced to walk right.
Mr. Jacket: If you don't mind me asking how did you make it out to that party?
Me: I had class with one of the hosts and I have a couple friends back there. But I had no idea it was going to be like that. You?
Mr. Jacket: Well, it's kinda sad actually.
Me: Tell it.
Mr. Jacket: I didn't know anyone there. I'm on a work trip, and my friends were busy tonight. I found out about it through this e-mail thing.
Me: O who cares? There isn't anything wrong with that. (I spotted a number of hasidic women with their young daughters across the way.) Common let's see if we're headed towards cabs.
Mr. Jacket: I don't think they're gonna talk to us.
Me: Why not? (As I crossed the street.)
One of the lovely hasidic women gave me a cab number, which for some insane reason I still remember? 917-834-4444. (At least I think that's it.) I dialed, but before the call went through, three cabs drove up. Problem solved. In side the cab it was:
Mr. Jacket: Well where to? If I get a receipt for this, the company I work for will reimburse me.
My thoughts: That sounds nice.
Me: Soho, my car is parked there. I think I'm gonna call it a night.
On the ways to Soho Mr. Jacket commenced to tell me about this open at all hours bakery, Sugars. He told me about their hazelnut steamed milk. And I thought, yes, I want that.
Me: You want to go?
Mr. Jacket: To Sugars?
Me: Yeah.
At Sugars we sat with hazelnut steamed milk and velvet cupcakes before us as we discussed how out of place we were at that party.
The End.
Credits.
Credits.
Credits.
In the process of deciding on whether or not to ditch again, I stood there texting on the subway steps to a friend who was waiting for me uptown. When I was approached by:
Guy 1: Is she calling you?
Me: Huh?
Guy 2: Are you calling me?
Me: That doesn't make any sense what so ever.
Guy 1 proceeded to the street.
Guy 2: I like your stockings, are those orange lines?
Me: No, it's red. See? (Leg out.)
Guy 2: O it looked like orange.
Me: Nope, red.
Then it was chat chat chat.
Me: Well, I have to go, I think I'm gong to this Brooklyn party?
Guy 2: The loft party?
Me: Yes! Your invited to that too?
Guy 2 shows me an invite on his phone.
Moral of this story: I took this as a sign from the stars. Guy 2 tipped the scale.
After exiting the Bedford Ave. stop I followed verbal instructions to a friend's apt. Then it was getting to the party. On route I learned that a person in our group and I had a common enemy. O how lovely that was. She was more irate at this person than I. She claimed that this person was a rapist due to a certain colorful blog entry he wrote. And although this person is on my blacklist I attempted to explain that, he used a distasteful analogy, that he simply does not own a mouth filter, that he'll say any old thing, regardless how it affects others. And sure, I would love to push his belly button in really hard because he belongs in a zoo. But rapist, he is not.
Anybes, at arrival of this party I knew. I knew it was not my scene. How to describe? It was a sweaty jungle. This was not the hipsters crowd, because I can deal with the hipsters. There was an older gentleman with grey dreads that looked like a pirate. Enough said?
With a $4 drink in my hand, I thought, lets see. After let's see a guy from our group told me that:
Guy: You know, you look like Leighton Meester.
Me: Who's that?
Guy: The brunette from 'Gossip Girl.'
Me: The bitchy one?
Guy: Yeahh, but you're sweet and nice.
Me: You don't know me yet.
The two of us laughed, but I had another secret laugh going on since before going out, I watched the 'Good Girls Go Bad,' music video, which is featured by Miss Meester, who inspired my makeup for the evening. If they only knew.
If only the party resembled this video, even slightly, I would have been a very happy girl.
At one point a member of the group who was with us, strut over and told the guy I was talking with to open his hand.
Guy: What do you have?
Girl: Open.
Girl places a pill in guy's hand.
My thoughts: O lawd please let that be an over sized tic-tac.
Twenty minutes or so later guy asked me what my views on drugs were.
Me: I don't do the drugs, but I have no problem with other people that do.
Guy: Good, cuz I took the pill. It's in here. (Rubs stomach.)
Me: What was that?
He said something weird.
Me: What does that mean?
Guy: It's like E.
My thoughts: O Jesus!
Seven minutes after:
Me: Well, I think I'm going to go.
Guy: Is it because I took the drugs?
Me: What! Nooooo. (A beat) I have friends waiting for me. Where can I find a cab from here?
While I put my coat on outside a Mr. Jacket approached to find out where the cabs were to be found.
Me: I have no idea. I was told to go right from the front door.
The two of us commenced to walk right.
Mr. Jacket: If you don't mind me asking how did you make it out to that party?
Me: I had class with one of the hosts and I have a couple friends back there. But I had no idea it was going to be like that. You?
Mr. Jacket: Well, it's kinda sad actually.
Me: Tell it.
Mr. Jacket: I didn't know anyone there. I'm on a work trip, and my friends were busy tonight. I found out about it through this e-mail thing.
Me: O who cares? There isn't anything wrong with that. (I spotted a number of hasidic women with their young daughters across the way.) Common let's see if we're headed towards cabs.
Mr. Jacket: I don't think they're gonna talk to us.
Me: Why not? (As I crossed the street.)
One of the lovely hasidic women gave me a cab number, which for some insane reason I still remember? 917-834-4444. (At least I think that's it.) I dialed, but before the call went through, three cabs drove up. Problem solved. In side the cab it was:
Mr. Jacket: Well where to? If I get a receipt for this, the company I work for will reimburse me.
My thoughts: That sounds nice.
Me: Soho, my car is parked there. I think I'm gonna call it a night.
On the ways to Soho Mr. Jacket commenced to tell me about this open at all hours bakery, Sugars. He told me about their hazelnut steamed milk. And I thought, yes, I want that.
Me: You want to go?
Mr. Jacket: To Sugars?
Me: Yeah.
At Sugars we sat with hazelnut steamed milk and velvet cupcakes before us as we discussed how out of place we were at that party.
The End.
Credits.
Credits.
Credits.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Wednesday Addams
It hurts to think of all the happenings of yesterday,(Actually, this occured on Tuesday, but there was no time to finish.) but I will try. It was one of those san pause days that started with, coffee, all good stories commence with coffee. Then it was rehearsing lines from 'Lend Me A Tenor,' with my partner Max. Then I took the yellow uptown to the Drama Book Shop to purchase, 'Speech and Debate,' a play I was going to audition for.
What was asked of us to audition was a memorized monologue and to have read the play. With monologue memorized and play purchased I head back downtown to century 21 to purchase a pair of panties, because mine were simply uncomfortable. So, with new panties on, and the disliked ones discarded, I went on my way to Barnes & Nobles. (How ever odd this may sound, it's just how I do things. When my boots soak through, I purchase sneakers, when I forget the gloves, I get more gloves. Am I going to allow the stress of something silly like panties haunt me all day? Not so much.)
At Barns & Nobles I read 'Speech and Debate' through lunch, and until 4:30 p.m. The auditions were to start at 5p.m., and at 5 p.m. they did. I arrived at 6 p.m. since I could not find the effing room. O how fun it was searching the 5th floor, then the 2nd, then wigging out in my head, then searching the theater department's studio. Mainframe? How are there still rooms that I do not know of at Pace? Thank goodness I ran into a friend, a theater major, who knew where this concealed room was.
A few minutes before the audition I filled out a form and put a feathery flapper headband on backwards. Then, with hair in pig tails I walked in to say Wednesday Addam's Pilgrim/Indian speech.
Yup, I did the matches. I delivered each word. Who knew I could memorize? Did I get the part? I'm going to go with no. It was my first audition, I even mentioned that as I stood there in the center of the room before two women seated at a table, but I got through it, without any hullabaloo.
After this I made a brief appearance at the woman's basketball game with a friend. Those ladies have impressive biceps. I couldn't stay long because basket ball is boring. Then, I stopped somewhere to dine alone before heading back.
When I arrived to Jersey I ran into a friend at the station and drove him home. It went like this: "It's snowing, your coming with me."
Then I sped home to rowdy music, changed clothes, applied lipstick, and left again to pick up a friend so we could attend another friend's birthday bar gathering. We stayed until closing, and spoke of, no, no, I'm not going to mention any of that.
Thank you for reliving day 2/7/10 with me.
Smile.
What was asked of us to audition was a memorized monologue and to have read the play. With monologue memorized and play purchased I head back downtown to century 21 to purchase a pair of panties, because mine were simply uncomfortable. So, with new panties on, and the disliked ones discarded, I went on my way to Barnes & Nobles. (How ever odd this may sound, it's just how I do things. When my boots soak through, I purchase sneakers, when I forget the gloves, I get more gloves. Am I going to allow the stress of something silly like panties haunt me all day? Not so much.)
At Barns & Nobles I read 'Speech and Debate' through lunch, and until 4:30 p.m. The auditions were to start at 5p.m., and at 5 p.m. they did. I arrived at 6 p.m. since I could not find the effing room. O how fun it was searching the 5th floor, then the 2nd, then wigging out in my head, then searching the theater department's studio. Mainframe? How are there still rooms that I do not know of at Pace? Thank goodness I ran into a friend, a theater major, who knew where this concealed room was.
A few minutes before the audition I filled out a form and put a feathery flapper headband on backwards. Then, with hair in pig tails I walked in to say Wednesday Addam's Pilgrim/Indian speech.
Yup, I did the matches. I delivered each word. Who knew I could memorize? Did I get the part? I'm going to go with no. It was my first audition, I even mentioned that as I stood there in the center of the room before two women seated at a table, but I got through it, without any hullabaloo.
After this I made a brief appearance at the woman's basketball game with a friend. Those ladies have impressive biceps. I couldn't stay long because basket ball is boring. Then, I stopped somewhere to dine alone before heading back.
When I arrived to Jersey I ran into a friend at the station and drove him home. It went like this: "It's snowing, your coming with me."
Then I sped home to rowdy music, changed clothes, applied lipstick, and left again to pick up a friend so we could attend another friend's birthday bar gathering. We stayed until closing, and spoke of, no, no, I'm not going to mention any of that.
Thank you for reliving day 2/7/10 with me.
Smile.
Monday, February 1, 2010
I Am Not Done Yet
The waves of - what next, keep coming - from the halls at school, the coffee shops in town, family members who give hoots about me, and I loudly whisper, E-nough.
If I were to leave all the important parts out, the arguements via e-mail out, I would have to say I am being subjected to taking another class at Pace. I need three more bleeding credits, was my initial thought. And now. I keep pretending that I'm bothered by it -- "I cannot believe Pace is doing this to me! They're assholes aren't they?" In truth, I don't mean an inch of it. I am taking an Acting class and having much fun with it.
One class, that's it? I know this is correct, one class does not eat up my time in an efficient manner. But I have my writing and my socializing. If I could get paid for socializing, I'd be a baller. I wonder if there was a way I could get paid for it? Kidding. Kidding. I am too aware that I must make the money. I'm just really not sure how? Working sounds horrible. I need to somehow skip all of the ass kissing and make it to a big girl job. But, how? How!
Alrighty then, I'm done with that rant. I know hard work pays off. (That statement seems naked without quotation marks.) I realize I need to take a job -- In fact, I'm jonesing for it. I'd like to kick it's ass. Because I am in dire need of kicking something's ass. (This merely means doin it well. Don't furrow that brow.)
In a soon time period I am going to start consuming vitamins, and saying, "I know I can, I know I can." Then, I'll laugh at my own joke, and say, "I'm the girl." Because I really do wake up feeling like P-Diddy.
"Don't Stop."
If I were to leave all the important parts out, the arguements via e-mail out, I would have to say I am being subjected to taking another class at Pace. I need three more bleeding credits, was my initial thought. And now. I keep pretending that I'm bothered by it -- "I cannot believe Pace is doing this to me! They're assholes aren't they?" In truth, I don't mean an inch of it. I am taking an Acting class and having much fun with it.
One class, that's it? I know this is correct, one class does not eat up my time in an efficient manner. But I have my writing and my socializing. If I could get paid for socializing, I'd be a baller. I wonder if there was a way I could get paid for it? Kidding. Kidding. I am too aware that I must make the money. I'm just really not sure how? Working sounds horrible. I need to somehow skip all of the ass kissing and make it to a big girl job. But, how? How!
Alrighty then, I'm done with that rant. I know hard work pays off. (That statement seems naked without quotation marks.) I realize I need to take a job -- In fact, I'm jonesing for it. I'd like to kick it's ass. Because I am in dire need of kicking something's ass. (This merely means doin it well. Don't furrow that brow.)
In a soon time period I am going to start consuming vitamins, and saying, "I know I can, I know I can." Then, I'll laugh at my own joke, and say, "I'm the girl." Because I really do wake up feeling like P-Diddy.
"Don't Stop."
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