Mooooonday Night

My dad, aka my roommate, is out of town for five days.

I just bought a bottle of red wine, a bag of Stacy’s pita chips, a package of fun size Hershey’s Extra Dark chocolate, and downloaded the following two songs on iTunes. 

I wanna feeeel the heeeeat…..

It’s going to be a great night.

(And I refuse to let the price of groceries in NYC bring me down. I just bought tuna, pasta and the aforementioned products, and spent, like, ninety dollars. UH. BRING ON THE HULU.)

OMG so much has happened in the past week!!!

Except, not really.

I got really sick. For like, way too long.  I’m thinking it’s from either:

a) the wee adorable babies i watch who have runny noses and fevers themselves

b) my gross sickly scurvy infected boyfriend out in LA who infected me on his romantic dash over here

c) one of the zoo animals i took improv class with last week or

d) passing vera wang on the street 2 weeks ago, and she breathed on me. (breathed on me? is that english?)

I don’t really like not writing with capital letters. Don’t know why I did just then. Anyherm, I feel better now. Hooray! I hate being sick. Especially when you’re sick on an aero bed. No fun there. Plus, I missed THREE AUDITIONS due to my illness, so if I never make it big, we all know way. Dev.

I watched a lot of Hulu while feeling faint-ish. Really into that new sitcom “Modern Family,” with Al Bundy and the hot lady from Happy Gilmore. Officially all caught up on Glee now too. I still can’t say I’m the biggest fan of all the song and dance numbers (which is sort of the basis of the show….), but all the crazy, snarky characters, esp. Mr. Schuster’s wife, make it worth it. I likey.

I’ve also watched the Nine trailer about fifteen times. I think my head will explode when I see the film. I really can NOT wait.

Dat’s a lot of star power! (Fergie…..your girlfriend….woof….)

Ummmm, Nicole looks drop-dead. I want that coat.

Can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t wait!

Oh, and…

Juuuust reading a novel on a folding chair in the kitchen right now. Well, I stopped reading it. I borrowed it from acting school. It’s a collection of short stories by J.D. Salinger, and I think some incest is going down, and it’s creeping me out.

ANYHOW, you know those moments when you realize you’re your mother? I am having one right now. I’m staring at a book I bought recently. From Barnes&Nobles. Clearance section. “1001 Greatest Things Ever Said About New York.” It’s a page-turner, lemme tell you. 

Did I need this book? No. Do I have a house to put books in? No. Maybe an apartment? No. But whatever, it was looking at me like IT NEEDED ME, so I bought it. Whatever, it was on sale!!! (That was my mother speaking, not me.)

Um….

here are some quotes from it that I like so far:

“People I know in New York are incessantly on the point of going back where they came from to write a book…”
-A.J. Liebling
(um…I think that like every day….fuck.) 

“In Manhattan if your ass was on fire, they wouldn’t piss on it to put it out.”
-Joe Flaherty

“New York is full of moments…it is performance art. It is the great leveler.”
-Annette Myers

“I love New York. I’ve got a gun.”
-Charles Barkley

Also just remembered another good Lulu story. Yesterday we were chatting in the kitchen, and I held up the newest cover of NY magazine, to show her the picture on it, because the dude was winking, and I thought she might like to see it.

Lulu took one look at the thing, and nodded knowingly. “Oh, I know that man,” she said. “He’s in my book, a million hundred cats.”

Since Lulu was referring to a book that I also liked a lot as a tot (okay, and maybe as a preteen too…), I knew what her mix-up was. She thought our first president was in “Millions of Cats.” In her defense, the cat dude and Washington on the dollar bill DO look alike.

I smiled and told her that they look similar, but that this man on the magazine was named “George Washington.” 

Lulu wrinkled her nose. “That’s a gross name.” She then continued eating grapes and giving me the stink eye.

Okaaaay, time for bed. I was going to watch an episode of GLEE first, but it hypes me up and makes me want to start dancing, so I think I’m better off with attempting to read some sort of “hard” novel, and thus getting bored and falling asleep, just like in college.

Goodnight.

Sunday Funday

Juuuuust a day spent watching specials on FOX or CBS or whatever about the rehabiliation of Michael Vick and crying. (I know, I know…..but second chances people! When you add in the string music and him running in slow-mo onto the field again….COME ON!) Then some Mad Men, Season 2. Peggy’s dress is this episode kills me. I want to wear it RIGHT NOW, as I go to Duande Reade to buy dental floss and apple juice. 

And again…

Everything about it is perfection. (Also, how good does that cake look? I am really craving birthday cake right now. And milk.)

In other breaking news, I am really enjoying the new shows Community and Glee.

Jane Lynch=icon of my life.

YUM.

Anything could happen! Hooray!

Today (well, in, like, two hours), I have my Level 1 Improv Show at the UCB theatre in NYC. I’m scurred. I’ve been up in front of people before ahhhhcting, but never improvising. It shall be interesting. I hope I don’t pass out. Anyhoo, this dude in my class, John, sent our whole class this video last night (yeah, we all email, we’re all friends, it’s cool), for some inspiration, and it’s pretty great. 

(I’ve watched it about five times. Don’t pretend it doesn’t make you want to go for a spirited jog and/or kick-ass at your improv show….)

Stress, and happiness?

I’ve been feeling very emotional lately. Not that this is a shocker or anything. But it’s more than usual, I guess.

I think it’s this acting thing. It entails a lot of self-doubt, and falling on your face, and a voice in your head that says oh yeah, the chances of this turning into anything are……SLIM. I often feel like I’m not doing enough: auditioning for enough student films, taking enough classes, reading enough plays, seeing enough plays, trolling enough websites…and all the while I’m like, “Well, is this what I’m supposed to do? What if in a year nothing has happened? Why haven’t they emailed me back about auditioning for “The Reindeer Monologues?”?” And so, and so forth. This hyper emotional I-live-with-my-Dad-and-am-almost-23-and-not-sure-if-I-have-what-it-takes results in such occurences as breaking a glass at 1 a.m. last night, waking up my Dad (who wakes up at 3:50am for work), having him try to help me clean the mess and  me freaking out and telling him to just go back to sleep, then me freaking out existentialy or something aka crying because my Dad is getting old because at 1a.m. he looks old, and….so on and so forth.

Also, Dad I’m going to harass you online now about getting healthier, so geeeet pumped!!! 

a) eat something at mid-day, like a sliced chicken breast, or oatmeal with peanut butter.
b) walk up the stairs from time to time.
c) maybe once a week do something crazy like take a 20 min walk around the Park and eat at home.
d) aim to be in better shape in six months than your 80-year-old father. Reasonable goal, me thinks.

(My mental health thanks you.)

Uh, so thank God for New York City. One veers into cheesy Carrie Bradshaw territory to say that this city is my friend. But it is. It gives me what I need. I can sit on Broadway alone and eat strawberry Haagen-Daz at 10:30 at night; I can stare at people for hours on the subway: old women with scarves, girls in ripped leggings with their boyfriends hands on their knees, men falling asleep with coolers between their boots; I can listen to the fat middle-aged man in the Dallas Cowboys jersey rocking out to “Gettin’ Jiggy With It” on his iPod for the whole world to hear, not to mention…..”I reeeeecall, Central Park in Faaaaall.”

Is there anything better? Also, Lulu looking at my hip tranny grey manicure and saying “the pink was so cuter” makes me happy too. Also, when I told her she’d get to meet my boyfriend soon….okay, I have to interrupt myself by saying that Lulu is really smart, and when I talk nonsense three-year-old gibberish to her, she sort of looks at me with annoyed face, and goes back to painting crowns or gluing acorns to paper. But whenever I say anything pretty honestly, or tell her about stuff that actually IS happening, she always responds, and is interested. So I just tell her what’s up, and that I miss my boyfriend or I saw a mouse on the street, and we chat. I’m like, “Hey Lulu, my boyfriend is coming to NYC soon, and I’m excited.” And she’s like, “Is he nice?” And I’m like “Yeah.” And she looks at me with her wide eyes and her face covered in finger paint and is like, “Does he have a scissor hand too?”

(Um, what? I told her Mom, who besides the boats in the park is my other new best friend, about Lulu’s interesting inquiry, and she informed me that Lulu had seen a clip of J. Depp on the tv the day before, and naturally, wanted some explaining. I told Lulu my boyfriend is sans scissor hands, but then I made her believe a 1-inch plastic lion that I named Tony was going to eat her and me, and she got sort of scared for real, so I don’t know if she believes me or not.)

Another thing that makes me happy is my friends, many of whom I don’t see much anymore. My friend Giavanna made me a mix at the end of the summer, and I’m one of those lame people who listen to mixes over and over and over, so now I have sort of a soundtrack to my September so far. (Um, yes I just wrote that sentence…) Here are some of the tracks. They are perfect for listening to while pushing a wee babe through the Park and the leaves or waiting for a train or stepping in gum on 78 and Columbus. EEEEEEEEEEEEE-mo. Giavanna has wonderful taste. (Ignore the scary videos…)

My favorite of them all. 

One last thing that made me smile when I saw it:

K bye.

The world is coming to an end….

TINA FEY, of all people, caught doing the side-arm at the Emmy’s after party!!!!!

Fey doing side-arm!!!!! A sad, sad, day indeed.

I can’t really hate on Tina though. Sometimes even I do a sidearm these days. And I don’t even mean to!

I bet Tina didn’t mean to. I know how it is at the Emmy’s or even just living the normal person life!: the person with the camera is like “one…two…” and before you know it, you’re awkwardly placing your hand on your hip and jutting your elbow out into the air like a freaking lunatic, all in the name of looking seven pounds thinner and 10 times more sexy, or whatever it is that the side-arm is supposed to give you. Who cares about our dignity, and putting our arms at our sides where they belong, unless we’re telling a wildly funny story and camera-caught mid-gesticulation! Oh, Tina. Sigh.

Side-arm is a true epidemic. It did not exist four years ago. No one in high school side-armed at prom, or at graduation. Now, you have chicks side-arming on regular nights out, at dinners, or at freaking cancer walks for christ sakes. 

My eyes!!!!!! (When you couple side-arm with the Olsen twin patented troutpout, dangerous things happen. True, this isn’t an official trout pout, it’s a double side-arm complete with a crazy face, but STILL. Is there a sense of humor in this? I’m very confused?)

It’s sad that many women today can no longer smile in photos. No, no, no. They must purse their lips together and put some sort of terrorist glint in their eye, all in the name of being considered “cool” or something, by like NYLON magazine. Again, I sort of get it. When you purse your lips together and look really stupid, a few things are guaranteed: your teeth can’t look wretched (which 50% of the time they will, but hey, isn’t life about taking risks???), your cheekbones do look better, and…I guess some women are into it (that Posh Spice always look like a million bucks riiiiight?!?!?), so at least your impressing them with how seriously you take yourself? The whole thing reminds me of how I feel about the Marni fashion line in general. And yet….sometimes, I do it. Uh. Everyone else is!  But every time I side-arm or trout pout I feel deeply ashamed. It’s like smoking ciggs when you’re sixteen, even though you hate the way they taste. Well, maybe not, but close. All I know is that when guys start side-arming, the end will be near.

Um…..I love her. She looks happy. GIVE ME TEEEETH.

Oh no, come on, you don’t know that. Hey he asked you right? Maybe you guys could, like, um you know get a house together and, like, buy some diamonds and a horse. I don’t know.

I saw the new movie Bright Star on Monday night. How is that possible?, you might be thinking. It’s not even out yet! (Okay, you’re probably not thinking this, but bare with me for conviniance sake.) Well, it was possible(!), because I went to an advanced screening, and after the showing, I got to hear the director and writer, Jane Campion, talk about her film!!! This was pretty exciting, because Campion is a badass. This is because she’s a woman, and she’s a movie director, which makes her like Hilary Clinton, because she’s talented and powerful in a man’s world fo sho. I totally loved her long hair and accent, not to mention her passion and wit and obvious talent. AKA NEW MAJOR CRUSH ALERT.

The movie is def. not a “manly” film. It’s totally romantic, and at the end of it I was not only crying, I had snot dripping off my chin and onto my chest, and I was sort of choking too. Needless to say, I loved it, and highly recommend it. The acting, the imagery, the costumes, and yes, the plot: t’s all fantastic. The film is about the love between the poet John Keats, and a chick he likes, named Fanny. And yet it’s not boring! At one point, when describing how one should read or experience a poem, or look at poetry in general, Keats’ character says this to Fanny, “The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore; it’s to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not work the lake out. It is an experience beyond thought.” I found this to be incredibly powerful, and a good way to look at life in general, not just poetry, since I tend to want answers for everything much of the time. Plus, lakes are great too. And so deep!

What wasn’t so deep, however, was my treatment at this screening. I had seen an ad for the screening in a paper, googled it, and saw that there was even a facebook event for it. (How hip of them, right!) You pay 18 bucks, you see the film early, and see the Oscar nominated director talk afterwards. (Of course I’ll go alone! Why not!) But when I got there, the biatches at the front totally acted like I was Julia Roberts in that scene in Pretty Woman, when the snotty sales people are all like “we don’t have that in your….size. Please leave.” They were like “are you in the Director’s Guild of America? Are you on the list??” Sorry we don’t know what you’re talking about.” Shady eye-scan over times fifteen.

I was like, “um it’s open to the public?? I read it in Backstage? AND FACEBOOK??” They were all “yeah….um…hold on.” So I hold until they’re like “Miss, apparently we can seat you but…we have no change for your money, so…..” Um, what? And then I go in the theatre seconds before it starts all sheepish, and thinking Peter Jackson is in the house or something, and there are plenty of empty seats! (Okay, maybe five, but STILL.) Thank God Abbie Cornish was so good. Totally worth the money, and the severe emotional abuse.

OTHER THINGS OF NOTE

1) This article in the New York Times by David Brooks.

2) This short clip my boyfriend sent me. It’s adorable (watch the whole thing), and so is he! Awwww. 

3) This photo spread in the new Vogue….

Every photo is fun and french, but of all I love this dress! (Yay for rhyming!) But really, the light pink and black…always to-die-for. Speaking of fashion magazines, I hate to hate on Vogue, since it’s my fav and I have recurring dreams about Anna Wintour and she is sort of my female love and I would leave my boyfriend for her is she asked me to wed (In my defense, he would do the same thing for Bill Belichick), but I also bought the new Elle (no, I don’t have a problem), and the writing in the magazine is fabulous. They always have a chock-load of articles that aren’t just about fur vests, but about relationships, literature, friendships, politicians, sex. And everything is always impeccably written, and individual. In Vogue, it’s like if I have to read another “dispatch” from a retarded socialite, I’m going to vomit. (I don’t care that Plum Sykes likes her hair in a bob either.) Hmm. Anna should totally write an article on Bill, come to think of it. She loves people who run shit, and he certainly does. Tom and Gisele could do the accompanying spread. Um….GENIUS?!??!?!

Something like this….but with T.B.

Toads.

Yo viv babe

Lately I wish I wrote a fashion blog. You can’t really do that when you baby-sit for a living. Right now I’m wearing glasses, capri sweat pants from H&M and my darling Bruce t-shirt. I’m sure your dying for a photo. But stilllll. Uh. I can’t stop reading them. And I really want a pair of over the knee boots for Fall!!!! (I know I sound like an air head…whatever, I’m still recovering from Fashion Night Out and seeing Julia Reston-Rotfield rocking some of these boots with a short black dress and looking so French and sexy it was unbearable.)

(Um…..marry me???)

Apparently, these types of boots are all the rage right now on the runwaaaays. I love them, though all these woman look terrifying and like their legs are made of anorexic steel poles and could robotron and kill you at any moment.

And of course…..there is the problem below….

You risk looking like Brooke Hogan/a horrifying Anne Hath/spending way too $ on something that will go out of style veddy soon.

But hey, there’s always Halloween, and J. Roberts rocks my world….

(Pushing two kids through Central Park in stiletto borderline-hooker boots? Anyone? Anyone?? Me thinks this screams of desperate unpaid struggling actress daydream post…..)

Strawberry milkshakes.

Since returning from L.A., I’ve spent this past week in a daze. Life has been mostly: babysitting, walking across the park to babysitting, walking home from babysitting, attempting to cook, wasting time online, going to really disturbing auditions for unpaid student films. You know, the usual.

It has been strange adjusting to life now that the six-week acting program has ended. I hung out with the same people every day for six weeks and now….well, I’m a little lonely. I think mostly it was that I got my dose of human interaction during the day, so that when I came home from babyistting to my Dad’s apartment at night, and the lights were out at 8:30 and he was sleeping, I was content to read by my booklight and go on vogue.com, g chat my boyfriend if he wasn’t running around a set till 3am, and call it a night. Now I feel like a cat lady.

That’s why I’ve begun to cook. A combination of watching Julie&Julia, working for a family that cooks all the time and feeds me the yummiest shit, and, well, having nothing better to do, has led me to finally realize I don’t know how to make anything, and I want to start. On Sunday, I made a bacon, egg, and tomato sandwich. With cheese. (I know, Mario Batali should watch his back riiiight??) The point of the story is my Dad got annoyed that I stunk up the apartment with bacon, and told me that even the curtains smelled. Boo hoo, I said. Bacon smells good! Like, Chance by Chanel!

(BTW, Meryl is so fabulous, isn’t she?? She is never NOT amazing, but even still, she continues to amaze. I want to Netflix every movie she’s ever made.)

Anyhoo, last night, I got home and made home-made pasta sauce, aka set off a bomb in our tiny kitchen. The sauce took forty minutes to cook. I am bad at chopping things. I had to chop a lot of things. My dad was sleeping during all this. I ate on a fold-up chair in the tiny box that is our kitchen, and examined the dirt in between the tiles on our floor. At midnight, my Dad woke up and told me the apartment reeked of garlic. He opened the window. I awoke this morning to an email from him: “my suit smells like garlic. We have to talk about your cooking.” I mean, GIVE ME A BREAK! If I didn’t cook last night, I would have had NOTHING to do! And garlic smells good right? It reminds me of my grandmother’s house. Her carpet smelled like garlic. So, yes, my fingers still reek and I have improv class tonight, but whatever. I’m trying to be like Betty Draper. People will understand.

Hmmm, what else. My friend Kelsey, from class, went back to Canada last week. I miss her a lot. We went out her last night in the city aka ended up at a diner in Times Square at 1 a.m., eating fries and splitting a strawberry milkshake, while discussing how unhealthy most of America is. A man came up to our booth and said, “If Norman Rockwell was still painting, he’d paint a picture of you two, splitting a plate of fries and a pink milkshake, just talking.” Then he stood there. It was….nice.

Hopefully auditioning for a play next week. Yes, of course it’s unpaid! But according to my friend Uta Hagan, money means nothing to the true artist. If I have to live with my father for the rest of my life, that’s fine, because I’ll be giving my soul to the community theatre world. Makes perfect sense. Right?

I saw The September Issue. Had a dream about Anna Wintour. I saw The Headless Woman. Had no idea what was happening for the first forty-five minutes of the film, which I suppose means that it’s a good movie. It was quite good though. Never seen a movie like it, which according to the reviews I read post-watching, means I don’t know alot about Fellini or something. Whatever. Jeanine, if you’re reading this, google the movie, and go see it. It is set in Salta. It’s about your two favorite thing: Argentina, and the class system. You’ll love it. Hooray!

Going home this weekend to Boston. Excited. Probably going to a college football game with my boyfriend. I plan to roll around in leaves and drink apple cider, though I’m about a month too early for that. But, hey, Happy September! Where did the summer go? What a silly thing to say, but it’s a) fun to say and b) actually, where did it go??

After this trip, I don’t know when I see Will again. That makes me worried. And sad. (I am writing this in hopes that he reads this, and immediately decides it makes sense to fly to NYC every weekend. I will make lots of bacon sandwiches.)

Finally, I just found this fashion blog. The girl is fun, very L.A., and I want her shoes.

Love,

Gossip girl.