Update

This morning I put "E-mail NYCMale" on my to-do list. And just now I crossed it off.

Last night, the roomies and I came to the conclusion that his pathetic e-mail address is probably an acronym for Men And Ladies Ensemble. Not that that really makes it better...but it sure makes it funnier.


A plea for advice from my four blog-readers: How does one find out if someone has a girlfriend? Without being really creepy.

Thanks dudes.

Well, it finally happened.

After five months of selling sausages to hungry men all over NJ and NY, some dude finally realized how blatantly sexual the whole thing was and asked me out. It was the most bumbling, stilted interaction and yet somehow (because of my awesome powers of conversation with strangers) not awkward. In fact, he commented on how happy I was. He thought I was from the midwest because of that, actually. He made up a scenario in which he needed my e-mail address and at the end of it said, "So... how 'bout it?" I used the phrase "sausage proposition" and then backtracked very hastily. He wanted me to write down my email on the coupon I gave him. I had to remind him that they would take that away once he got to the register. I gave him my g-mail address, which is my whole name, and told him not to stalk me. I made him buy two packages of sausage, and effectively made $1.50 off that interaction.

Last night, I noticed there was one message in my spam box. My g-mail (completely unlike my yahoo account) never has spam in it. It had no subject and was from "nycmale123". Porn, I thought. But then I looked at the first line of the e-mail which g-mail is so kind to provide, and it was about helping someone pick out good food to eat. Oh god, I thought. It's from Him. Not god, Michael. Who I met in the refrigerated meats section of the D'Agostino's closest to the dorm in which I spent my first two years of college, having my first bumbling sexual experiences in stairwells and common rooms... none of which involved gourmet sausage.

For your reading pleasure, I have included here the entirety of his ever so poetic epistle.

"Alice, thank you very much for your help picking out some new great food. You have a great personality for sure while working and a very nice smile. Lets hang out sometime."

I gave him my full name, and he doesn't even sign his e-mail. Not only that, but his e-mail address "nycmale123", if I need remind you, is from AIM.com. AIM. Oh, did I not mention that this guy was probably about 40? Because he was. And his e-mail was nycmale123 at aim.com. Does he think I'm going to IM him? I gave him my super professional, full name g-mail account!! Maybe I'll write back saying that there's probably no hope for us, but I do need a raise, so would he be so kind as to write to my superiors a glowing recommendation of how I have a "great personality for sure while working"?

After this, I realize what a fool I was for not giving my phone number to the young red-headed guy in a deli on the upper west side who tried to woo me by saying that red-heads were a dying breed and need to procreate with one another. It may sound creepy, but he was adorable and the whole thing was adorable. But that was in June, and the little bit of Episcopalian guilt I have and the fact that I'm a good person forbade me from doing so. What a fool I have been.

In case we didn't know this already... "Sex and the City" is a work of utter fiction. Hilarious, horrible, totally untrue fiction.

Lovely

I had a lovely day today. This morning I waited forty minutes to interview for 30 seconds for a job I'm not qualified for, but who cares?! The baker, Angelo, was obviously thrown by the man-voice I have these days. Then I had a lovely lunch with my brother at Max Brenner's where I got salmon wellington and oh god was it good.

This afternoon I had several lovely interactions with strangers. One guy who runs a hot-dog stand was convinced he saw Liv Tyler walk by, but I knew better and told him so. He was disappointed to learn I was right, but told me that he once met Harvey Keitel on that same corner. Later, a man walking down the street in the same direction as me commented on what a beautiful day it was. I agreed because, well, it was! He told me he was en route to his banjo lesson. I told him that I love the banjo! We chatted about Bela Fleck.

Then I sat down in a park and watched a boy (9 years old?) practice riding his bicycle. He nearly crashed into me and excused himself saying "I'm still learning!", so I reassured him that he was doing very well. I just started reading "The Once and Future King" so I was torn between reading about young King Arthur and watching this little prince. I did both. Then he nearly ran into me again and he said something to the effect of "I've almost got it", and again I reassured him of the fact because it was true, he was indeed getting better! I fell in love with him when he said "I just got the bike on Thunday." Adorable! Then I was walking toward Planned Parenthood and I stepped in a puddle! But today I wore mary janes! The young man behind me made some comforting, innocuous, but more or less indiscernible comment so I just laughed and crossed the street. On the other side I tried to shake the water out of my shoe and air out my foot when he came up to me and said "I've got a towel, you know." So I gladly accepted. I dried my mostly dry foot and we smiled at each other and went our ways.

Then I got on a bus headed to Hofstra, took a nap, woke up and rallied with other Pro-Choicers in the designated rally area, headed back to the bus, and saw an Iraqi vet get literally dragged away by the cops, and saw a girl with a hurt ankle get carted away on a stretcher. I heard about both of those events later on the news.

Now I'm writing this and next I'm going to bed. And that was my day, start to finish. Minus the boring bits. Because there are always boring bits.

My Week on Craig's List

After a week (plus) of searching Craig's List, MonsterTrak, EntertainmentCareers.net and many more, I finally applied to one job (see last post). A whopping one. What follows is a review of the postings I responded to, forwarded to various people I know, and generally just looked at.

My Week on Craig's List

I found an ad from someone looking for dog calendars, with a detailed list of the types of photographs he/she was really hoping for ("A two panel image of a dog eating a bug and then spitting it out because it tastes gross (The bug is fine!)")

I applied to get paid drink copious amounts of clear liquors in a focus study. No dice.

I responded to an ad looking for curly haired people for a photo shoot. No response

I tried to be an intern for a movie Sam "Rocks my world" Rockwell is making. (Don't worry, I'll never refer to him that way again.)

I e-mailed a guy looking to take pictures of people for a gallery project, and now he's going to take a super close up picture of my brace-face eating Cheetos and enlarge it to more than 50 inches. My dream has finally come true.

I didn't apply to be a contestant on a cooking/dating reality show where people have to cook meals around New York City--think beans on top of a boiler--for really picky eaters.

I applied to be an extra in a vampire movie that was part of Brooklyn's 24-hour-film-festival.

I dreamed of having nearly enough experience to work as an overnight baker in any one of the various places looking for one.

I convinced myself many times that I didn't have enough experience (read--desire) to apply any one of the various administrative assistant/receptionist jobs that are always listed.

I found a guy offering private baking lessons and a woman offering piano lessons and am considering e-mailing both of them to see if I could barter my awesomeness for their time and skills.

I tried to find a router, a bed frame, and almost anything cool in the Free section.

Over a month ago I found a guy giving away his banjo for free. I e-mailed him twice. I still don't own a banjo.

And finally, just now, as I was perusing CL for some inspiration for this post, I applied to be a tour guide on a "Sex and the City" bus tour. Boy I hope I get that one.

The right stuff?

I just said the following in a cover letter:

"I would made a great assistant because I have lots of experience with customer service and, having worked closely with children who don't know how to speak yet and their sometimes-equally-as-uncommunicative parents, I have learned how to figure out people's needs without them having to ask."

After a more or less depressing day of job searching, I'm applying to be an intern on the set of a movie Sam Rockwell is making.