hearing the blues that's great

I'm home. Like, other home. Not 'my parents' house' home, but 'loud little apartment that will seem depressing by contrast until I get used to it again' home. Kevin is just now leaving SD on a separate flight, so I'm watching tv to bide my time before bed. I don't want to go to sleep so early that I wake up at 6 am. My body never does handle jetlag well- I had been awake for 40 hours by the time I went to bed Friday night, and the five days at home were so jam-packed that I never did get enough sleep to catch up. But I still shouldn't get more than 8 hours tonight, because I don't handle sleep inertia well, either. Oy. It's very complicated.
On my flight from San Diego to Chicago, I watched so much of the SNL I've been ignoring all season that I wore out my laptop battery, then couldn't find an unoccupied port on which to charge it at the airport, so once on board for my flight from Chicago to New York, I decided to make a Completely Bad Ass on-the-go mix on my iPod. I spent so much time picking the songs that I was still in the Ts by the time we were on final approach. But in all fairness, I did get interrupted by my fruit-and-yogurt plate:



It took me a whole time zone to finish that plate of butter.

"Annie" is on one channel right now, and "Candide" is on another. It's a channel-hopping lovefest with Anne Reinking, Patti Lupone, Kristen Chenoweth, Bernadette Peters and Carol Burnett. My head might very well explode.

it's been there all year long

Happy Boxing Day, guvnahs!
I have about an hour before Kevin and I head up to Seal Beach for the wonderful Matangela Day After Christmas Party, so I can't write much, but I did want to do something with my hands other than wrap or unwrap gifts or shove copious amounts of fudge, cookies, sausage and fish tacos into my face. Kevin is practicing clarinet and I am procrastinating packing for my 8 am flight.
So that's it for now. I'm still alive, I had a fantastic Christmas and am both sad and excited to return to NYC.



I love being home.

life is a reality, you can't always run away

I know this is fake. That doesn't make my pants any less peed.

you have to find it

My iMac has a button in the middle of the mouse that pulls up a clock, calculator, calendar, and 5-day weather forecast which displays the current temperature. Whenever I click it, it displays the last-clicked time, date and weather, and takes a minute to update. I'm used to this by now, but this image from last night was still a bit unsettling against the backdrop of a gloriously sunny winter day:



Especially in contrast to this, which popped up seconds later:

you know I sure would

It's amazing how easy it is to lose sight of the big picture when a bunch of little stresses and upsets sneak their way into your life.
*I have a great job that I enjoy going to.
*I'm not broke.
*I'm not chronically ill.
*I have awesome friends and family.
*I have an amazing boyfriend.
*I get to go to California in three days.
*The line-minders at the 44th street Best Buy were so nice and attentive and their decision to send people down to the business checkout was so well-timed I wanted to give them all kittens.
*The thing that upset me so indelibly this time last year is not going to happen again just because it's the same month.

Deep breath. It's all going to be ok.
But if one more jerkguy on the sidewalk who sees me carrying my violin asks "you gonna play me a song?" I am going to have to throw a pee-soaked dart at him.

my already mad rush

I'm smack in the middle of my office's week-long, one-a-day Secret Santa gift blitz (it ends Tuesday). Some of my gifts have been personal and well-thought; others have been hastily purchased at lunch (thanks, Guy and Gallard, for your stock of prettily-wrapped Godiva bars!).

Today's gift: Christmas Disco Dance Party Mix

2001: A Space Odyssey........Studio Group
Run, Run Rudolph.............Dr. Teeth and The Electric Mayhem
I Will Survive...............Gloria Gaynor
Frosty The Snowman...........Jackson 5
The Man With the Bag.........Animal, Floyd and Zoot
Don’t Leave Me This Way......Thelma Houston
Stayin Alive.................The Bee Gees
Feels Like Christmas.........Al Green
Greased Lightning............Danny Zucko
First, Last, My Everything...Barry White
Christmas Wrapping...........The Waitresses
Dancing Queen................ABBA
Aquarius.....................Hair Original Cast
Magic to Do..................Pippin Original Cast
River Deep, Mountain High....Ike and Tina Turner
Disco Bells..................Valentino
I Love the Night Life........Countdown


I have no idea how much my recipient loves disco, if at all. I'll just assume that anyone with a soul can get down with ABBA, The Muppets, and the basso profundo declaration that ...when you sit and think about it, it's just really, really nice.

Foolish Alibis

Somewhere during my five years working for newspapers, I learned the value of the colon in a headline. As a page designer/editor/ headline mistress at a daily newspaper, I often saved precious inchage by writing headlines like Cops: Cat Rescued Safely or Principal: 'Pippin' Too Racy for Teens. That pesky "says," along with the spaces around it, takes up 6 chracter places that can be better used for supplying more information or for increasing font size. But it is extremely important to only use the colon to attribute a quote or an idea to someone who actually said it. In other words, you can take a quote from an article, paraphrase it, and use it in the headline, but the colon is not a free-for-all association mark.

Which is why this headline pisses me off.

wasn't what you'd call a blushing flower

Seriously?
"Because of murder" is the only headline-making reason to not be a prostitute? How about "because of diseases" or "because it's scary and illegal" or "because you deserve more self-respect?" Could the English police please take their warning one step further and say "Stay off the streets... and go take a computer class?" The most revolting part of this article is that they're more or less just saying, "stay off the streets... in Ipswich. The non-murdery parts of England are still fare game for you to whore it up."



(My arguments regarding politics and civics have always tended to be more passionate than cohesive... this is why I chose narrative journalism over metro reporting.)

capture a moment

I skivved off work yesterday to go shopping. With my boyfriend. This has been my dream since puberty. Granted, it was heavily premeditated skivving, and boss-approved, but still somehow feels saucy and indulgent, even though everything I bought was for other people. I don't want to reveal too much here, since at least two of the recipients read this blog, but my workplace Secret Santee (who I'm pretty sure doesn't read my blog) is going to find herself the owner of some sweet Kate Spade playing cards. And they set me back little more than some fancy holiday drink at Starbucks. Thanks, Woodbury Commons Premium Outlets!
The day was the climax of a shopping-heavy weekend, which saw me and Kevin also trekking all over Brooklyn at the behest of super crafty friends and friends-of-friends. We hit the Butter by Nadia sample sale in Red Hook, where fabulous Robyn's fabulous designer friend was selling her amazing wares. I am so in love with the dresses I bought that I almost called Robyn the next day to ask her to snag a purple version of the incredible green one I bought... I'd totally have paid her back... I could've picked it up this week... but I stopped my self mid phone-grab, reminding myself that Nadia will probably have another sale in the summer. Plus, as Kevin pointed out, "you can't wear Butter EVERY day."
Post-Butter, we journeyed to Williamsburg, where lovely Erika Kern had a My Imaginary Boyfriend booth up at the Bust Holiday Craftacular. It was so crowded it felt like an imposition just to take a deep breath, so I bought some adorableness from her, ate some pierogies with Kevin, then freed us both from the loud-sweaty throes of craftophiles. I'm sure the rest of the booths were lovely, but my claustrophobia wouldn't let me find out. (note to Bust suits who might be Blogseraching for 'tacular gossip: Get a bigger venue next year! Don't underestimate the popularity of your hawkers!)
Now I'm back in realville, eating a chicken salad and finishing the shopping on amazon.com. It's never done!

so many times that the sun doesn't shine

Over the weekend, I was in the American Apparel on Broadway, killing time between Blue Man shows. While mulling over the new color choices for their smashingly comfortable unitards, I ran into an improv friend I hadn't seen in far too long. (She mentioned that she'd been one of the many arbitrary Apiary-clickers the weekend of the 17th, and was surprised to have been directed to my blog). We chatted for a while, then she went to pay for her green hoodie while I stayed in the pants, etc, section. Minutes later, I decided nay on the unitard, and headed to the cashwrap with a pair of blue pajama pants. Improv lady was still in line, and didn't notice me right away. When she did, we both started giggling, and there were too many people between us to resume our conversation. She seemed to realize that this was almost feasible, and attempted several times to reinitiate conversation. Each time, she would open her mouth, think better of it, and fall silent. This only made us giggle harder. When she got up to the front of the line, the cashier looked back and forth between us, with a vague look of "what did I do?" on her face. Improv lady laughed almost out loud while she paid with a credit card, signed the receipt, and took the bag. As she left, she turned around. "Bye Jen!" she called out. "Bye Rebecca!" I replied.
About 4 minutes later, when it was my turn to pay, the semi-friendly cashier asked rhetorically, "ok, so you two know each other?" I paused. Then I cleared my throat, shook my head and tried to look confused. "Unh uh. No." I wasn't necessarily trying to mess with her- I just think it's funny not to honor the implication of a rhetorical question.

getting caught in the rain

Nerdy moment in music #734
My dear friend Katina was in an adorable, kick-ass sketch show last night, one of the central bits of which was a madly lovable reinterpretation of "Do You Like Pina Coladas." I had that song in my head for the rest of the night, despite my iTunes' protests in the form of Tori Amos and Cake while I was getting ready for bed. This morning, my classic rock station was lovely enough to actually play it, perhaps as a way to help me combat the diabolical chill in my bedroom, where I can't control the heat. It wasn't enough for me to just sing along, or even to improvise a dance that wouldn't involve me dropping the straightening iron. Oh no. In fact, screw the straightening iron- I grabbed the little purple plastic maraca I got this weekend as part of a party favor bag and serenaded the teddy bear on my bed. Because that's how I roll. And I pretty sure it's how teddy bears roll, too.

to release the pressure

Nerdy moment in music #704
A few months back, I was sitting on the 1 train when a big burly dude with headphones, a black hoodie and a surly expression squeezed onto the bench next to me. He reminded me of a completely joyless-looking version of former NYer Will McL. To make room for him, I had to skooch closer to the lady half of an adorable couple on my right. As the train lurched off, the big dude bumped into me a bit, and I could hear snatches of song from his headphones. Since I assumed that he would be listening to some sort of rage-rock or mysogynistic rap, it took me a minute to suss out what he actually had playing.
Holidaaayy! said his headphones. Celebraaaate!
I giggled internally, then realized that the girl next to me had noticed as well. She nudged her boyfriend. "I didn't know hip-hop dudes liked Madonna," she said quietly. Her boyfriend mumbled something about not judging a book by its cover. I looked back at angry not-Will. He was stone-still, his face still fixed in sunken-eyed sullenness. You can turn this world around and bring back all of those happy days... It remains the only time I have regarded the sound leaking from somone else's headphones as anything other than irritating.
We got off at the same stop, and as I ascended the stairs behind him, I kept hoping that 1984 Madonna would inspire this guy to get his groove on the tiniest bit- by a tap of the pinkie, a dip of the shoulder. Nothing. But I know he busted out in a full-on hairbrush-microphone dance on his bed the second he got home.

something more than long

Cabaret Star
Dec 3, 6pm
Mo Pitkin's, Ave A & 2nd

Two hosts.
One winner.
A standup who sings.
A guest soloist from an off-broadway show.
I am at least one of these. And crazy.


(oh, and I'm way past expecting anyone to go to my shows. At this point I'm just bragging.)