Ad I Found on Craig's List

Hello!
We are two women, ages 24 and 28, that are interested in forming a collective house in Brooklyn with 4 or 5 people in total. The intention of the house is to have a nurturing space that fosters self-care and social/artistic/political collaborations. Some of the things we like are permaculture, living sustainably, gardening, dancing, hula-hooping, yoga, herbalism, making music, active listening, non-violent communication, bike-riding, feminisim, anarchism, potlucks, and meditation. We are looking to create a safe, queer friendly, warm space that serves as a refuge in the city. We love cooking and sharing food and hope to come together in joined activities like dinners, art-circles, conversations, and book-groups. Private space and stillness is equally valued. We are looking for a house in Ditmas Park, Kensington, Prospect Heights, South Park Slope, or Crown Heights. We would love to have an outdoor space and be close to Prospect Park.

Please contact us if you're interested in joining our collective. Our aim is to find a house by mid September.

thanks!


I want to go to there.

You know what

The past three weeks of my life have been really fucked up. But the past three days have been really alright:

Road trip with Baffles, friend dying, BFF leaving, mental meltdowns.

But wait:

Braces off, water skiing, beer with friends, outdoor concerts.

So when shit hits the fan, just give it time, people. Or if that fails, get the fuck out of New York for a while.

For Katie and Kevin on Their Departure from New Jersey and in Anticipation of Their Arrival in Pittsburgh

A Banner Morning

Having been uprooted from my room due to bed bugs, I have moved into the entire rest of the apartment. I turned the library into my bedroom and the living room into my closet. My apologies to my roomies. Over the weekend I washed almost all of my clothes, and have been keeping them in an over-size shopping bag; last night, to keep them as out of the way as possible, I wedged the bag between a chair and the wall. Very subtle.

This morning I got up at 6.30 to pack for my trip. It's 7.20 and I haven't done shit yet. There was a dead mouse in the kitchen. What's that, three in two days? Here's the real kicker though: I found a live bed bug crawling on the living room wall. When I tried to kill it, it fell. Down. Toward the ground. And landed in my open bag of newly clean, bed-bug free clothes. A brightly-lit banner flashed in my mind, as on Broadway marquees of old: "TOO PATHETIC TO BE A LIE, STARRING ALICE YORKE, EIGHT SHOWS A WEEK, NOW AND FOREVER WHEREVER ALICE GOES!" Admission is free to this never-ending story, catch it before I go crazy.

Let's Run Through My Day, Shall We?

In bullet form, with pluses and minuses illuminated for easier comprehension:

-KT gives me Chinese leftovers for lunch (+)
-Man offers me seat on subway (+)
-My favorite manager is doing the opening shift with me on this, my last day of work (+)
-The sky is threatening another summer rainstorm (+)
-Generally insignificant, work-related triumph--selling more pairs of New PINK Denim before 2 pm than anyone else this week. Thank you, Gap! (+...?)
-People being genuinely sad that I'm leaving ("But you're the only person here I can talk to without fear that she's gonna turn around and talk about me to someone else!") (-)
-Leaving!!! (+++)
-Buying lingerie because I think it's sexy (+)
-Having this beautiful moment wherein I leave the floor for the last time as an employee just as one of the few Muzak songs I like fades... cinematic (++)
-Running out of that building for the last time as an employee into the no-longer-impending summer rain storm (+)
-Watching "Roman Holiday" and "Buffy" with KT (++ [Pecks!])
-Going through old bank statements (-)
-Picking books out of KT's discards (+)
-Changing sheets before bed, mmm, clean sheets (+)
-Finding bed bugs in my pillow (-)
-FINDING BED BUGS IN MY PILLOW (--------------------------)
-And my sheets, and my bed skirt, and my mattress, and my box spring (--------------------------------------------)
-Figuring out where all these itchy bites came from (Priceless...?)
-Easing my terror/rage/WTF?Z?ZELETLU@LVPOSE09i4 with a glass of wine and some dark chocolate (+)
-Checking e-mail...ooh free Fekkai cut on Monday maybe? (+)
-Hauling that infected shit to the curb (+/-)
-Having three further glasses of wine (+)
-Testing a theory in regards to my Caramel Cone ice cream: having melted when our freezer was open for who-knows-how-many-hours, will all the cone chunks have risen to the top? (+)
-Being correct (+)
-Even better, finding the layer of caramel at the bottom (+)
-Having to sleep in the library (-)
-Wait, the air mattress is more comfortable than my bed was anyway (++)
-Listening to "Breakfast at Tiffany's" while writing this
-Finding the following video because of Songza (++):



-FINDING BED BUGS IN MY PILLOW AND MY BED SKIRT AND MY SHEETS AND MY MATTRESS AND MY BOX SPRING (-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------)


-Ugh. Fuckin... Too pathetic to be a lie.

EDIT 1:16 am: Kitchen mouse who stealthily evades trap. Bitch. (---)

Charming!

Mid-month Update:

Less rain--decidedly
More money--questionable
Parties--awaiting
Drinking on the roof--explosive
More yoga--sweat-tastic
Good food--quinoa!
Outdoor movies--pending
Lots of Harry Potter--aguamenti!
Lazy days in parks--vitamin-d-tastic!
Kayaking!--hopefully

So far, July has been rocking. Two of my good friends (and possible future roommates?) spent a lovely weekend on the shore with me, I finished one show and started another, I'm getting my braces off next month and I'm quitting my job soon (maybe tomorrow?! oh shit!). So far the only bad thing has been the reappearance of my PMLE, especially since it has decided that my hands are no longer the only desirable area of my skin. Oh well, SPF60 it is, then.

Can we rent bicycles and ride them around? I want to do that.

Hey, July? Keep it up.

July

I decided to welcome in the new month with some reggae. This was a very good choice.

Things I'm hoping for this month:

Less rain
More money
Parties
Drinking on the roof
More yoga
Good food
Outdoor movies
Lots of Harry Potter
Lazy days in parks
Kayaking!


Today is Wednesday, July 1st, 2009. This day will never come again, so make the most of it. Happy July everybody.

More from Craig's List

LOOKING FOR A WOMAN TO LIFT ME (NY)

---

Reply to: gigs-5bd5y-1233287043@craigslist.org ^{[Errors when replying to ads?]}
Date: 2009-06-22, 2:00AM EDT


QUITE SIMPLY EVER SINCE I WAS YOUNGER AND I SAW A WOMAN LIFT A MAN IN A MOVIE I GOT HOOKED ON BEING LIFTED BY WOMEN. SO IM LOOKING FOR WOMEN WHO WOULDNT MIND LIFTING ME. IF UR LOOKING TO BE AN ACTRESS, MODEL OR SINGER I CAN HELP WITH THAT AS IVE BEEN IN THE ENTERTAINMENT FIELD FOR 15 YEARS AND HAVE A THICK ROLODEX. SO BASICALLY ALL U WOULD HAVE TO DO IS LIFT ME A COUPLE OF TIMES AND THATS IT. FEEL FREE TO CONTACT ME IF UR SERIOUS THROUGH THE CRAIGSLIST EMAIL AND LEAVE A NUMBER U CAN BE REACHED AT.

• Location: NY
• it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
• Compensation: GOOD CONNECTIONS

Should I go for it?

More importantly

I just found the other place where the mice are getting in.

I'm a little behind the eight-ball since this article by Germaine Greer was written in March, but the subject of whether women can be funny is one I'm very invested in, since I've had a lot of personal experience--and and experienced a fair amount of opposition--in trying to disprove that. The part that hit home for me was when she mentioned briefly women in improvisational situations:

Given an opportunity to perform a finished comedy routine, a female comedian will make you laugh as hard as any man. Put her in an improvisation situation along with male comedians, and she is likely to be left speechless.

Having been in that situation, I can say that it's true. In my experience, most men do improv like stand-up--it's all about the jokes, and it's all about you--even though the entire basis of improv comedy is collaboration, to make your partner look better than you. The article made me wonder if women are "bad" at stand-up (and thus in most people's eyes, comedy) because we are more collaborative in nature. Maybe women work better when they work with someone. Most of the female comedians I know are part of duo or a group. To me, that was the fun of doing improv--seeing what we as a troupe could build, or where we could go. Unfortunately, most of the men I worked with didn't feel that way. The most crushing experiences I had on stage were not when the audience didn't laugh at what I said, but when my troupe members didn't back me up.

Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, girls rule boys drool. Girl power!

Also, let's go see I Eat Pandas at WET's summer series. Only $5! One of the girls in it played Jenna to my Liz Lemon last year and she is awesome.

Blerg-o-rama

Today was blerg. This whole week has been blerg. Blerg blerg blerg.

Something just happened outside my window that sounded like a one-man band tripping over himself. Maybe I can ask him to follow me around tomorrow and punctuate everything I say with a good crash of the cymbals. That would be pretty much the opposite of blerg.

We have a smart mouse.

Bawdy Songs in Sing-Along

The best thing about being an actor is definitely the job interviews. True, sometimes they can also be the worst, but on Tuesday, that was not the case.

After telling us about how much he loves Shakespeare, Improv and Clowning (hello, soulmate?) the very British director asked us if we would prefer to sing something traditional or bawdy. We all said bawdy. And this is what we sang for a solid fifteen minutes:

Take a slab of butter, made in May
Slap it to your arse on a summer's day
And ever as it melts, lick it clean away
'Tis a med'cine for the toothache, old wives say

Then we proceeded for the remaining twenty minutes to walk around the room as though holding a very full bowl of precious liquid.

Man this is an awesome job. If only I was getting paid for it...

When English Ain't Assez

Do ever find that the English word just isn't as good as its literal translation in another language? In "Eat, Pray, Love", the author mentions that her favorite word in Italian is "attraversiamo" which is such a better word than the clunky English "Let's cross over to the other side." I have been writing several letters of application recently where I'm trying to express that I'd like to deepen my education. But I hate the way that sounds. Every time I try to think of a substitute work I get stuck on the French "Approfondir" which is infinitely superior than "deepen". I wish I could include French words in these essays without looking like a tool. Alas, I don't think that's possible

Jools and Jamie

Jamie Oliver, the formerly nekkid chef, just had a baby girl. Her name is Petal Blossom Rainbow. She has two siblings (who I can only assume are girls) named Poppy Honey and Daisy Boo.

These names are absolutely preposterous and I love them.

Today

I joined a gym.








Also, I thought I pissed myself.

A Love Song to Laps Trinity

Guys, I know I claimed to be swearing off horoscopes, but remember how I stood up for those featured in L Magazine? Check this out:

"To hell with that, I actually think French can sound pretty good in a rock and roll song. The key, though, is that it be sung by a pouty redhead with a strong Parisian accent. The redhead in question may be either male or female, but must be thin and pretty and possessed of a febrile sexuality always on the edge of burning out. We don't talk enough, Gemini, about what we want from life."

So you guys wanna start a band?

My Luck is Balls, Yo.

I am too full of emotion to do anything. Does that ever happen to you? Though I know I should go to bed, I can't: I'm sort of buzzed right now on feelings. I don't mean emotion and feelings in the sens majuscule or the elongated vowels (feeeeelings, emoootions) sense. Strictly, I have many emotions right now. Sitting at 30th Avenue at 11.33--where I found myself after noticing only too late that the doors were closing on Broadway--hoping that the next inbound train will come as quickly as the one I'd just missed, I found myself not knowing what to feel, and inside just running through a litany of emotions. Wanting to scream because trains take fucking forever, wanting to cry because it's 11.45 and I just want to be home, wanting to hop onto the tracks and just run home, and wanting to laugh and laugh and laugh until I scream and cry and go crazy and run down the tracks because it is just my fucking too-pathetic-to-be-a-lie luck that as I'm walking down the street, I hear the inbound subway coming, and despite taking the steps three at a time and knocking old ladies out of the way, here I am twenty minutes later, still waiting.

So now I'm home. I've been home for 45 minutes, but I still have too much emotion swirling around to rela-- fuck it. I just thought of the title of this post, and that pretty much sums it up. I'm going to bed because it's too fucking cold to be up trying to wax poetic about shitty luck when you're shitty at waxing poetic to begin with.

Lambert OUT.

Get on This

Watch, Cry, Sign

The opening sentence pretty much says it all.

From nymag.com

"

Female Bank of England Employees Must Wear Makeup and Heels

Well, this is appalling: Earlier this week, the Bank of England held "Dress for Success" day. On that day, they sent out a memo to female employees detailing just how they should dress for success, important now more than ever in These Economic Times, the worst financial crisis Britain's dealt with since the Depression. WWD obtained a copy of the memo:

“Look professional, not fashionable; be careful with perfume; always wear a heel of some sort — maximum 2 inches; always wear some sort of makeup — even if it’s just lipstick.” Shoes and skirt must be the same color. No-no’s include ankle chains — “professional, but not the one you want to be associated with;” white high heels; overstuffed handbags; an overload of rings, and double-pierced ears.

On behalf of all women at the BOE, excuse us? A woman can dress almost exactly opposite to these rules — in black flats, with gray trousers, no makeup, and a giant handbag — and still look professional and chic. We understand the need to enforce a dress code, but mandating heels of a certain color, makeup, and degree of handbag-filling is ridiculous. What about rules for the men? It wouldn't hurt BOE governor Mervyn King and deputy governor Sir John Gieve to wear ties that aren't so loud — set an example if you're so concerned about color-coordination, gentlemen. And while you're forcing women to wear two-inch heels, you should, too. Sarko does it, after all.

"

This reminds me of a certain e-mail I got from Baffles once. We don't need anyone to tell us how to dress--we've been doing it all our lives, thank you!

At Last

Dear Barack,

You have just replaced Thomas Jefferson as my favorite president. You have big shoes to fill (and no slaves to sleep with), but I have faith in you.

Eagerly awaiting the next eight years,

Alice

Dear Thomas,

I'm sorry. You had a long and prosperous reign as my top dog, but it's time for you to step aside. Not everyone understood what we had; in fact, I could barely explain myself sometimes. But I'll always think of you whenever I see Japanese cherry trees, replicas of monuments built by the parents of third graders, and illegitimate children.

Adieu,

Alice

Can't Keep a Good Man Down

The city of London recently held a contest to promote drinking tap water in restaurants. Entrants had to design an "iconic" carafe. The winner's design is simple and lovely--it even has a "waist" to hold back ice cubes. When I checked out the runners up, there was one design that instantly stood out. One design which, though iconic in a sense, doesn't seem to be exactly family-friendly, let alone something you want to drink out of. I present to you "Tap", or as the Brits would say, "Meat and Two Veg":



The designer explains himself thus (the parentheses are mine):

"To be effective a design that communicates a message must be confident (cocksure, even) – it must be, to a degree, an icon.

...

I felt that as well as producing a form that could stand out in the visual noise of the better dressed tables in London’s restaurants (liquid filled phalluses do have that tendency, don't they?), when diners paused for a second (only a second?) to consider the shape of the vessel (of life?), they would enjoy the moment the traditional tap came into their mind’s eye, and they got the design. "

Yeah, I don't think that a traditional tap is the first thing most people are going to think of. Although, it got so far as to be a runner up in a national contest, so I guess some people didn't notice...

Although, I could be wrong. Refer to designer Adam White's page on London on Tap (here) and find the body part (don't worry, it's G-rated) that his design also resembles. Art, meet Life. Life, Art.

Worst E-Mail Ever

After much debating over the proper phrasing, I finally told NYCMale that I didn't want to go out with him again. His response was:

"Alice, thats all fine and good. Lets go out as friends. What are you doing New Years?"

Oh my god. Who the fuck goes out on New Years "as friends"? I spent New Years by myself with a slice of buche de noel and "The Devil Wears Prada". Let me tell you, I had a thousand times more fun than I would have had with him.

I'm not going to respond to his e-mail.

But that's never stopped him before.