Me and You and Everyone We Know

Ad I Found on Craig's List

2009-09-05T19:58:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-23T19:16:00.001-07:00

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

2009-08-16T18:13:00.000-07:00

A Banner Morning

2009-08-04T04:17:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-07-29T20:44:00.000-07:00

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!

2009-07-21T11:43:00.000-07:00

Mid-month Update:

2009-07-19T20:16:00.000-07:00

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

2009-07-01T06:14:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-22T04:51:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-21T08:13:00.001-07:00

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

2009-06-21T07:13:00.000-07:00

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

2009-06-12T22:51:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-04-24T05:37:00.000-07:00

We have a smart mouse.

Bawdy Songs in Sing-Along

2009-04-10T09:04:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-05T18:16:00.001-07:00

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

2009-04-03T20:49:00.000-07:00

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

2009-03-20T20:03:00.000-07:00

I joined a gym.

Also, I thought I pissed myself.

A Love Song to Laps Trinity

2009-02-28T18:23:00.000-08:00

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.

2009-02-16T21:33:00.000-08:00

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

2009-02-11T06:53:00.000-08:00

Watch, Cry, Sign

The opening sentence pretty much says it all.

2009-02-02T11:38:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-20T20:20:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-06T19:11:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-01T16:33:00.000-08:00

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.

Best E-mail Ever

2008-12-21T20:37:00.000-08:00

This evening I received what was undoubtedly the best e-mail I have received in a very, very long time. Names have been changed because you all know who it means and the internet is creepy.

Hello Ahice "Chopped Liver" Jorke -

Three people have asked me for the recipe for Lysa "Get To An AA Meeting" Dorschtick's cookies. Would you oblige? And also compliment Corinna "Daddy Issues" Bregner?

Also, I am going home on Wednesday and I will be back on Sunday. Can we hang out multiple times between Monday, December 29, 2008 and Monday, February 2, 2009?

Say hi to Cathy "Daria Morgendorffer" Colye for me!

Happy Christmas!

Much love,

Casey

[PS - If Lysa is really struggling with alcoholism or Corinna really has established daddy issues or you have a phobia of chopped liver, please ignore my off-color jokes. I don't really care how Cathy feels about her nickname.]

My Morning, Thus Far

2008-12-18T06:47:00.000-08:00

So I am, once again, sitting around listening to Christmas music on the radio. A terrible, terrible 80's pop song came on and I was thinking about "Love Actually", like, wow, do pop stars really get forced to remake their songs into Christmas songs?

Then I was surprised to hear the strains of "Strangers in the Night" since the station is only playing Christmas music. Except that it begins "Reindeer in the night...". I sat stunned, and then furiously searched the Internet for the lyrics because they were really fantastic, but apparently the song just doesn't exist.

-------------

In "Time Out New York", there used to be a horoscope section called "Planet Terry", which mysteriously disappeared during some year I wasn't a subscriber. I remember liking those horoscopes, so today I searched for "Planet Terry" online. I found a Wikipedia article on the Marvel comic book of that name, and I also found Cheryl Lee Terry's website. Bingo. The first thing you see is a Maya Angelou poem. Then I looked up my horoscope. This is what I found:

WEEK OF: December 15-21

The Twins are one of the most delightful, interesting and sensual signs of the Zodiac. But on Monday, when Mars arouses your insecurities, jealousies or (probably unfounded) suspicions, try to hold off delving into mental excursions to nowhere, because Tuesday's fabulous aspects will lift your spirits and turn you into a tactful, delightful and very desirable object of someone's affections.

The rest of October is full of opportunities for growth, both spiritually and mentally. You should follow that subliminal urge to delve into the family history, spend time with unusual people, or enroll in an intriguing class or seminar. When these urges appear out of nowhere, this is usually the Universe providing direction, insight or a bit of information that will come in handy down the road.

There are four subsequent paragraphs, but I couldn't read any of them. I actually sought out this particular horoscope, and she's merely copied some of it from some random week in some random October. The only spiritual growth this has brought me is to officially stop reading horoscopes.

...Except the ones in the L magazine, because those are fantastic. Look how pertinent mine is: "I’m not going to solve your problems by telling you your future. If we were honest with ourselves we’d recognize that the future is known to us, but we just refuse to admit it, because the idea of doing anything to change it is abhorrent and terrifying."

The L Magazine horoscopes don't mess around, and I trust them because of that. They're the ones who told me that my future involves sitting around, drinking in bars by myself while all of my friends disappear. They're right; telling me that didn't solve any of my problems. So now I'm taking control of my future and turning off the radio because "Christmas Shoes" came on and the only person who's going to be meeting Jesus tonight is the absolute tool who wrote and sang that horrible, horrible affront to music. Reindeer in the night, come back to me! Come back!

Hmm

2008-12-17T09:07:00.000-08:00

Today I wasn't scheduled at either of my jobs, but I thought I would pick up a shift at Vicki's because I'm dropping one on Friday for a dentist appointment. Having woken up in a bit of a funk, the prospect of choosing to go there for 6 hours was not a fun one. However, neither was sitting on the couch by myself all day listening to Christmas music. As I was donning my mood-lifting all black attire, I got a text message from the manager of Bare Escentuals who was sending out the "distress call": one employee called out sick and she was in the ER because the safe dropped on her foot. In a store with a grand total of 20 employees, two people calling out in one day is huge. So I responded and am now going to BE for the rest of the day. As I walked around getting ready, I realized that--as opposed to ten minutes prior when I was dragging my feet from one room to another--I was literally dancing my way around the apartment.

Do I prefer one job over the other? Good question. Sometimes I can't tell because I work 30 hours a week at the bad one and only 8 at the good one. Something is wrong with that picture.

?? again!

2008-12-10T21:19:00.000-08:00

Similarly, what does one wear to a party at which pictures of yourself will be projected across the walls, to which you were invited by an adorable boy you met on Craig's List who has seen you with Cheetos mashed up in your braces?

It seems that all my problems these days are sartorial.

If only that were true....

Just Super

2008-12-06T20:51:00.000-08:00

I'm having an allergic reaction to the $6 pants I bought at a discount store which is filing for bankruptcy.

I guess I won't be getting them taken in.

This has been another chapter in The Alice Yorke Story: Too Pathetic to Be a Lie.

??

2008-12-04T13:55:00.000-08:00

What do you wear to a cupcuke party where you'll be meeting a guy who's been e-mailing you for five weeks after meeting you in a grocery store where you sold him sausage?

I DON'T KNOW!!!

Edit, 10:57 pm (Post-Date)

"Bright Lights, Cured Meats: The Alice Yorke Story"

Gotta Love National Passive-Aggression

2008-11-29T18:15:00.000-08:00

"When Napoleon seized the Netherlands in 1810, he demanded that all Dutchmen take last names, just as the French had done decades prior. Problem was, the Dutch had lived full and happy lives with single names, so they took absurd surnames in a show of spirited defiance. These included Naaktgeboren (born naked), Spring int Veld (jump in the field), and Piest (pisses). Unfortunately for their descendants, Napoleon’s last-name trend stuck, and all of these remain perfectly normal Dutch names today."

Saturday night's alright for bloggin, Saturday night's alright

2008-11-22T19:13:00.000-08:00

I thought I would update my two readers who don't live with me on my life in hopes that they will do the same:

I went as a pair of curtains on Halloween. The next day I went to sausage hung over. I partied with Planned Parenthood when Obama won. The next day I went to my first interview at Victoria's Secret hungover. I got two seasonal jobs in one week. I work now at Victoria's Secret in Herald's Square in PINK and the Italian Intimissimi division. I don't fit in. I've never seen another person there read a book. I also got hired at the Bare Escentuals up by school. I still haven't figured out how to spell their name. I haven't worked there yet, but will have my first day of training after T'day. I quit sausage. Every so often NYCMale still sends me desperate e-mails. I still respond but still have not gone out with him. I went to Actorfest and flaked on an audition that that got me at The Network. Stellar move. I'm going to spend Thanksgiving upstate with my bro, sis, mom and grandpa. That will be nice. We are having a rib roast. The roommates are good. The library is good. We have creepy pictures of Macbeth and King Lear hanging on the walls. I recommend reading Steve Martin's Shopgirl. It won't take you more than 24 hours. I recommend you both come back to New York. I swear it's funner here than it's ever been--as evidenced by my being at home bloggin' at 10 pm on a Saturday night. Hm. I can't think of much else to say. I'm gonna go to bed now.

Smoke Signals are for Suckers

2008-11-21T10:48:00.000-08:00

Today is the perfect example of why I've always wanted and still believe in the necessity of the Land Line.

Last night I lost my phone. Today our internet doesn't work. This morning I called (from Corinne's phone) the woman at whose house I left my phone about trying to come get it. How does she call me to let me know when is a good time for me to stop be? It's too bad there isn't some other number this woman can call to reach me. I suggested she call and leave a message on Corinne's phone and that Corinne could e-mail me when she does so. Two problems with this solution: Corinne can't check her phone at work. Also, I can't check my e-mail since our internet stopped working. How do I fix the internet when I can neither get on the internet to find a solution, or call Time Warner for them to tell me how to fix it?

Also, I was supposed to go to an audition for The Network (an acting thing) today. But I'm not because I'm completely unprepared. How do I tell them that? I can't call them. I can't e-mail them. But I also can't just not show up. So I'm sitting in the "internet bodega" down the block. I just finished reading Shopgirl last night, and decided to take two-thirds of Mirabelle's sage advice about how to tell a convincing lie: 1. It must be partially true, 2. It must make the listener feel sorry for you, 3. It must make them not want to ask question. I decided to include in my excuse (which was decidedly not "my unpreparedness") the pitiable and true fact that I have more or less lost all ways of communication with the world. I toyed with including some of my winning self-deprecating charm by adding "I know it sounds like I'm lying, but this is too pathetic to be a lie."

Then I realized two things: 1. I shouldn't do that, and 2. That is the ultimate of all possible titles of my memoires:

Too Pathetic to Be a Lie: The Alice Yorke Story

Appearing everywhere in hardcover as soon as I get my sorry ass in gear.

Vote! (For my mom!)

2008-11-11T07:32:00.001-08:00

Don't Stop Voting Now!

My mom posted a slogan on this website. Vote for it! It's something a professor she and my dad had in college used to say. My dad really took it to heart.

Update:

There are some weird slogans on this website. Some people seem to do nothing but think of weird sayings, and then post variations on them. User RAMZKIE, for example, muses about swallowing pride ("I Can Swallow My Pride, But Not Yours?"), promises ("Promises Are Meant To Be Swallowed, And Spit It Out.") , and religion ("Catholic Is A Religion Of Fake, Not Of Faith."). This is the link to all his slogans: Ramzkie Just go see for yourselves. Caution: There are a LOT.

Smart Girl's Guide to Being Broke?

2008-11-09T19:36:00.000-08:00

Today I found myself crying on the street because the owner of the diner where I got lunch made me take money out of an atm instead of paying with my card.

When I got back to my sausage station, at least three employees offered me tea. They told me that it was free to employees and demonstrators, but I think they were doing it out of pity from having seen me cry. They didn't offer me any before I went on break.

Then Cher's "Shoop Shoop Song" and Roberta Flack's "Killing Me Softly" came on. I danced away my troubles when "Footloose" played.

The Smart Girl's Moral of this Story: Just dance your blues away.

Alice in What-the-Fuck-Land

2008-11-07T09:05:00.000-08:00

(Author's Note: Names have been changed to protect the possibly-herpes-infected.)

This morning I woke up extremely disoriented to my phone ringing. It is dark out and there is a little noise on the street, but that's not really a good indication of what time it is. I pick up almost immediately, just to get it stop ringing, noticing only that the call is not from someone in my address book. "Hello?" "Alice!" says a man's voice. Oh god, please don't let it somehow be NYCMale. "Yes?" "You don't know who this is, do you?" "No," I say, if possible, more warily than before.

It turns out to be Petruchio (that's what I'm calling him because a picture of King Lear is the first thing I saw when I was searching for a man's name, and since that picture is way creepier than the real person is, I went with the name of a befitting Shakespearean character he portrayed once), a guy who I spent four years of college with, who has seen me at my drunkest on two occasions. After confessing to me that he always thought I was rather, ahem, fetching, he made a bet on my chastity with my ever good friend Erica. He lost. Several weeks ago when Erica came to visit, I reminded her that she should get her $50 from him, so we called him and made him agree to take us out to dinner.

Last night he calls and says "I'm drunk dialing you!" and then immediately starts apologizing, saying "You were asleep. Oh man. You were sleeping." I assure him that it's fine. He explains that he was looking through his phone book and thought he'd call me. He asks where I live. He mentions losing the bet. He says something to the effect of "I don't know where you're at" or "what you're up to" which I can tell has nothing to do with my location or what I was doing at the moment (given that he knew those two things) but was more a comment of my relationship status (god, doesn't he check facebook?). I try to invite him to the party on Saturday, but instead he asks to take me out to lunch. I say sure. He says that he'll call me tomorrow (today) around noon.

Then he asks if it's too late for a late-night visit from Petruchio.

I say yes.

The whole phone call lasted less than two minutes. And then all my subsequent dreams were about telling people about the conversation. And then one where he and I were eating baklava together.

It's 1.30. He hasn't called. I don't think I'm getting a free lunch today.

This is my life. I guess it sounds pretty exciting sometimes.

Oh, did I ever mention what time it turned out to be when he called? 4.30 am. I had been figuring it was maybe 1 or 2. But no, 4.30 am. Oh you crazy Petruchio, you.

Election Emotion

2008-11-04T07:33:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I cried when I heard about Obama's grandmother dying.

Tonight I'll cry again, no matter what the outcome. And if the outcome doesn't come tonight, I'll cry even more.

In January, when I listen to Obama's inagural speech, I'll definitely cry.

And just now? Just now I cried listening to the testimonials of first time voters, many of whom recently became legal citizens. It made me remember how proud we should be that we get this opportunity. Even if we don't like the outcome, at least we have the chance.

So yes, I am proud to be an American. Where at least I know I'm free to bitch (and cry) about whatever I want.

Happy Belated Halloween

2008-11-02T17:20:00.000-08:00

Because there was no Halloween at his house, he gave us this video as a treat. I'm serious: http://www.brucespringsteen.net/news/index.html

Also, I hope to one day play the harmonica half as bad-assedly as the Boss does.

Update

2008-10-28T09:06:00.000-07:00

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.

2008-10-23T06:02:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-15T20:58:00.000-07:00

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

2008-10-10T10:04:00.000-07:00

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?

2008-10-10T08:42:00.000-07:00

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."

2008-10-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

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.

A Test

2008-09-24T08:26:00.000-07:00

Would you qualify for this job?

FXCM, an INC 500 company, leads the rapidly expanding field of online currency trading services for retail and institutional traders. The firm operates out of offices in New York, Dallas, San Francisco, London and Hong Kong. With substantial operations around the world, the FXCM Group currently services over 100,000 live accounts via the FXCM Trading Platform from nearly 200 different countries. FXCM has a proven reputation of reliability and success, executing on average 4,000,000 trades per month accounting for $350 billion in notional trading volume. Additional information can be found at: www.fxcm.com .
We currently have an opening in our Marketing Department for a Proofreader. The position will focus on quality assurance for all of the company's marketing material. We offer a competitive salary, exceptional medical benefits, a 401(k) plan, and an exciting, fast-paced working environment.
(Position includes the following):

Workflow Management:
• Edit material for mistakes in grammar, spelling, and sentence-structure
• Submit changes to Compliance and/or the Design department. Ensure that the work is complete as specified (formatting).
• Ensure that the edits submitted have been applied
Quality Assurance/ Proofreading:
• Proofread the entire company's written material as it's developed
• Check the technical functionality of finished work
• Do hyperlinks navigate to the proper location
• Can Web forms be submitted as designed
• Maintain consistency-of-work across all media (e-mail, eb site, print)
Qualifications:
• Must be eligible to work in the USA (No H1 Visa ponsorship).
• Bachelor's Degree in English, Journalism or Liberal Arts
• Excellent grammar, spelling, and solid sentence-structure skills, and an overall strong command of the English language
• Ability to exercise prescriptive-grammar judgment
• xcellent attention to detail
• Ability to communicate and organize ideas effectively
• Proficiency with MS Word a must; experience using MS Excel preferred. Adobe Acrobat experience a plus!!
• The ability to learn quickly the use of applications you may not be familiar with
• Some familiarity with the Chicago Manual of Style a plus

If you spotted what I did, then I'll race to the cushy salary!

PS. Were they trying to be ironic?

Creepy.....

2008-09-22T19:51:00.001-07:00

http://newyork.craigslist.org/mnh/bar/851416486.html

In a Non-Gay Way

2008-09-21T20:04:00.001-07:00

Sometimes, when I look for people's blogs on Fuzeit, I end up on Zach Braff's, which leads me to this. Sometimes... is a good time.

"Diablo Cody Responds to Haters"

2008-09-19T14:28:00.001-07:00

Writer Diablo Cody, the recent Oscar-winner for "Juno," has posted a message on her MySpace page for all the people out there that hate the fact that she has become successful. If you're one of those people, you may not like what she has to say.

"I may have won 19 awards that you don't feel I earned, but it's neither original nor relevant to slag on Juno. Really. And you're not some bold, singular voice of dissent, You are exactly like everyone else in your zeitgeisty-demo-lifestyle pod. You are even like me. (I, too, loved Arrested Development! Aren't we a pretty pair of cultural mavericks? Hey, let's go b*tch about how Black Kids are overrated!)

I'm sorry that while you were shooting your failed opus at Tisch, I was jamming toxic silicon toys up my *ss for money. I get why you're bitter. I took exactly one film class in college and-- with the curious exception of the Douglas Sirk unit—it bored the sh*t out of me. I also once got busted for loudly crinkling a bag of Jujubes during a classroom screening of Vivre Sa Vie. I don't deserve to be here. We've established that. But I'm here. Five million 12-year-olds think I'm Buck Henry. Accept it.

I'm sorry to all those violent, semi-literate fanboys who hate me for befriending their heroes. I can't help it if your favorite writer, actor, director, or talk show host likes me. Maybe you would too, if we actually met.

I know my name is fake and that it annoys you. What, do you hate Queen Latifah and Rip Torn, too? Writers and entertainers have been using pseudonyms for years. Chances are, you're spewing bile under an assumed screen name yourself. I'm sorry if you think I'm like some inked-up quasi-Suicide Girl derby c*nt from 2002, but I like my fake name. It's engraved on an Oscar. Yours isn't."

more from worstpreviews.com

New Stuff?!

2008-09-16T21:02:00.000-07:00

I'm trying out a new layout. Thoughts? Also, if haven't gotten your fill of my Italy posts, reread them, as there will be a surprise waiting for you at the bottom of the page. Bonne chance!

PS. For those of you who aren't Katie or Corinne... we got an apartment!

Oh no

2008-09-09T05:23:00.000-07:00

http://www.worstpreviews.com/headline.php?id=10047&count=0

Jessica Alba Stars in "Invisible"

Jessica Alba will topline a modern-day fable "An Invisible Sign of My Own." Silverwood Films and iDeal Partners Film Fund closed a financing deal for the pic over the weekend at the Toronto Film Festival.Filmmaker Marilyn Agrelo (Mad Hot Ballroom) begins lensing the film, based on Aimee Bender's tome, next month from a screenplay by Pam Falk and Mike Ellis (The Wedding Planner). It is her first feature directorial outing since "Ballroom" (2005)."Invisible" revolves around a young woman who has retreated from the world and is consumed by numbers and math. Things begin to change when she becomes a second-grade math teacher.

We need to stop this.

Italian Lessons

2008-09-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

Ah-lee-chay = Adopted name (spelled "Alice")

Gelato = Ice cream you don't regret eating every day

Finocchio = Fennel, can be used as Fag

Cazzo = Dick, used like Fuck

Si, Cara = Yes, "beloved" = A really dreamy thing to have a dreamy Italian boy say to you

When you go to a foreign country to babysit, try to remember more than four songs with which to sing the children to sleep. Also, try to remember more than two verses of these songs. Further, don't let any of those four songs be "Yesterday" as it will cause children to be moody upon waking.

If you are not a person who wears them, don't bring thongs. Just don't. They won't make you feel sexy when they're riding up your butt crack as you're riding in a minivan listening to an Australian recording of "I'm a little teapot". And when you realize that you've brought not just one, but five pairs, you will feel stupid in addition to unsexy.

Furthermore, do not blow your budget on lingerie which you will wear for no one but yourself. I am, under other situations, a huge advocate of buying lingerie for oneself, but it doesn't help with the above situation, or with the realization that the relationship you're in is almost over. However, disregard this rule entirely should "Hit Me Baby, One More Time" come on while in you're in the dressing room and literally "give [you] a sign".

If you only started drinking coffee while on said family vacation, and are still new to the concept of ordering coffee, do not--I repeat--DO NOT think that you will be able to order a cup of joe in a country whose language you do not speak and whose cafe culture you do not understand. You will be standing at the counter--this is where they stand, right? why isn't anybody else here??--sweating not just from the 90 degree heat outside, or the 90 degree caffe latte in your hand, but from anxiety wondering why all the baristas are staring at you and talking--obviously about you--in the condescending and ironic way that only those who speak a language you can't understand know how. You will run outside, after swallowing the huge cup in one gulp, and realize that maybe there's some truth to the idea that a hot cup of coffee is the best way to lower your body temperature. Or maybe it's because you were sweating so much when you were inside, that the stale breeze that greets you when you finally get out is a very, very welcome one.

Dewy-eyed Italian boys do not give a second glance to sweaty, frizzy-haired girls with braces who have four children in tow.

Once you have accepted this fact and have started to settle into the glory of not caring about that fact, men named Enzo (and I do love the name Enzo) will ride up to you on their bicycles and ask you where you are going to eat lunch, and whether they might be permitted to take you out for lunch. You will politely and insistently decline because--did I not mention this?--Enzo will be 70.

If you sleep in the same room as the children for three weeks, you will, eventually, have to let at least one of them try on your underwear and maybe let her wear the pair to bed over her PJs as a compromise for not letting her wear them, over her clothes, to breakfast.

Kids love boobs.

There are two categories of flavors of gelato: fruits and creams, and ne'er the two shall meet. But that won't stop you from making glorious combinations of flavors. I recommend fior di latte which means milk flower and is what happens when vanilla goes to a strange tribal ritual on a tropical beach, has a transcendent experience, and drags its hungover, yet divine ass back to the gelateria. Eat it and be merry.

You will never--no, New York, never--have pizza as good as the pizza in Italy.

More when (if) I remember.

You've all read this by now, but just for good measure

2008-08-25T12:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I took the most awkward bath of my life. We are in the last leg of our trip, staying in the house of some of Michele's friends. There is a bathroom connecting the rooms that Michele and Rich stay in and the one that I stay in with the kids. In our room, Michele is saying goodnight to the kids; she has said I can take a bath or go sit in the living room for a while. In the other room, Rich is putting the baby to sleep. So I decide to go to the living room, where I discover our hosts arguing with their own cranky children. I immediately retreat and decide to take a shower. Showers are one of my least favorite things about Europe. Showerheards are rarely fixed at a sensible height on the wall, instead you find the handheld kind resting just above the taps to fill the tub. However, you can't even take a shower with the handheld in this tub since there is no curtain. Just a tub. So I run a bath. I don't want to use a lot of water because this isn't my house, but I don't want to turn the water off and have to hear whatever it is that's happening in any number of rooms around me. But I do. And so I sit there in three inches of rapidly cooling water. I try to lie down. I try to relax. Both are impossible.

I am made all the more anxious by my awareness that at any moment, either of two doors will fly open and there I'll be... naked to whomever, in three inches of bathwater. I am even more worried about this given the fact that twice in the first two weeks, someone has walked in on me in the bathroom. The first time I thought I had locked the door and Alessandro (a friend of M's whose apt we were visiting for the day) burst in looking for his glasses. When I finally came out he tried to make me feel better saying "I didn't see anything!" holding up the glasses he'd been trying to find. The second time, a week later, Stella runs into the bathroom, sees me on the toilet and stands, staring at me like a very intrigued deer in headlights. After a solid minute of me saying "Stella! Leave! Stella! Get out of here!" she finally runs out of the room, a weird I've-seen-something-I-shouldn't've-how-cool smile on her face. Realizing that I'd been walked-in-on once a week since the vacation started, I sadly admit to myself that since we'll be in Italy for three and a half weeks, it stands to reason that I'll be walked in on three and a half times. Ha ha ha, I then think. "Three and a half times! Impossible!"

And so it comes to pass that not only in the last week of this vacation, but in the same day, in the same trip to the bathroom, the remaining one and a half unexpected bathroom visits happen. In the supposed security of this bathroom from Mommy's bedtime visit on one side, Daddy putting Baby to sleep on the other, and Host arguing with Small Child on yet another, I take off my pants and walk around the bathroom gathering and preparing various things for my bath. The moment I realize what an awkward way this would be to find me, the door from Daddy's side starts to open. I try to knock as a subtle signal, then say "There's someone in here," and finally after Rich's "Oh... ...sorry..." I have to concede, "I'm about to take a bath" which, I feel, is quite obvious code for, "I'm half naked."

Narrowly avoiding what could have been a hugely awkward situation, I realize that I was just half-walked-in-on and so there must be one remaining incident. I have been sitting awkwardly in the tub for several minutes when there is a small knock on the door from the kids' room. "Yes?" "I have to go potty" says Stella. My towel is, of course, on the other side of the room. I hear the knob turn. "Wait! Just a minute. Please." I luckily find one closer, stand up in the tub, and wrap myself up. I let her in, trying to keep out of the doorway as much as possible. I stand there, dripping wet, wrapped in my towel as she ambles over to the potty making random-five-year-old conversation. She takes her sweet time with the toilet paper. Stands up... looks at me... looks at something else... says something... "Stella! Wipe!" "Oh yeah." She takes even more time flushing and walking to the sink to wash her hands. "Stella! Hurry up! You're interrupting my bath!" She doesn't get this. I break it down: "I am still taking a bath. I got out of the tub to let you in. 0When you leave, I will get back in. I haven't even washed yet. Please hurry up and leave." She stands there and considers this. "Oh. Okay." Finally when I let her back into the room, she and her brothers try to engage me in meaningless conversation. "I'm shutting the door! Don't talk to me anymore! Don't talk to each other! Go to sleep!"

Deciding it's time to end this most awkward of bathtimes, I set to washing myself. Except that there's only three inches of water in the tub, so I have to rinse myself off like a baby. With the souvenier Coke cup sitting in the bucket with the childrens' toys. The perfectly awkward end to a perfectly awkward bath.

So right now the thing I'm looking most forward to about coming home is a proper shower.

2008-08-21T14:13:00.000-07:00

The Constant Refrain:

I hate your hair
You look funny with your glasses on
Stop!
I dont like you
Im going to put you in the dungeon
Youre a witch
Dont touch me!
No!!!
Your hair is itching me!
You wore that yesterday.
Are those your pajamas?
Stop!!
I dont want to hold your hand
I want Daddy!
No!!!!!
Youre going in the dungeon! With lions and bad guys and doggies!

The Golden Nuggets:

I cant smile, Im holding all these rocks! (Stella, when I tried to take her picture)
That must have been so much for your whole body! (Aga when I almost tripped)
That hill makes my bum feel funny! (Aga)
I even have a hair growing on my penis! (Aga, when Stella and I were discussing the hair on our arms)
Does your mommy have breasts like yours? Do your friends? (Oliver)
Wheres your baby? (Oliver)
Are those big nipples? What? (grasping and shaking my boob) These. (Stella)
I want to be a girl. I want to be a girl so I can have a ponytail. (Aga, the budding homo)
Im going to be the queen. (Aga, of course)

More to come, without a doubt.

italia!

2008-08-12T14:56:00.000-07:00

on a time limit, so im just copying the email i sent to my parents. will dish more dirt on the parents the next time im not charging my internet access to their bill...

Hello parents! I dont even know where to begin, but we just arrived in montecatini terme, which is a huge change from the agriturismo in sansicario. picture this: from a hikers paradise in a former olympic bobsledding site where the milk in our coffee came from a cow that morning and if it wasnt picked from the garden, it doesnt go on our plates to the spa paradise of tuscany, where you cant enter the dining room in shorts and the designer clothing stores stay open until 11pm.

anyway, im having a really good time. it can be pretty stressful... todays car ride was about 6 hours long... but it was a breeze compared to the trips we took up and down the mountains in sansicario (so bad that i got barfed on.) day two was the worst. i didnt go down to dinner, instead staying up with the baby, who barfed on me and then fell off the bed when i went to clean my jeans. that was terrible. it was about a two foot drop onto a wood floor... no small deal for an 11 month old. i pretty much freaked out. luckily shes fine and michele doesnt seem to hate me.

other than that, weve been hiking, spent a day by a river in "marmot valley", and tomorrow were going to pinocchio land. i cant say too much more because its nearly midnight and weve got a big day tomorrow!! also, im charging this to the room, and i dont know if i should be doing that.... eek! but, to sum: food is wonderful, weather is getting better, kids are on-and-off, food is wonderful, italy is wonderful!

gonna go now, will try to write more when i can. though theres not really much more to say!

love al

Straight to Famous, continued

2008-06-12T10:47:00.000-07:00

Step 4: If you haven't already bought it... go do it now

2008-06-04T07:46:00.000-07:00

I don't really have anything to say, I just thought I'd write something because it's been a while. Last night Erica and I went to Sympathy for the Kettle and spent three hours there drinking tea. I got chocolate mint tea. It was delicious. I need to find a job. Hm. Well that's all I've got right now.

Google me...

2008-05-07T20:51:00.000-07:00

...it's worth it:

"Just then there was another rustle on the stair and another step, - this time a lighter one, - and the next moment appeared what was to the young man a vision.

Keith's face, as he rose to greet her, showed what he thought. For a moment, at least, the dragon had disappeared, and he stood in the presence only of Alice Yorke.

The girl was, indeed, as she paused for a moment just in the wide doorway under its silken hangings, - the minx! how was he to know that she knew how effective the position was? - a picture to fill a young man's eye and flood his face with light, and even to make an old man's eye grow young again. The time that had passed had added to the charm of both face and figure; and, arrayed in her daintiest toilet of blue and white, Alice Yorke was radiant enough to have smitten a much harder heart than that which was at the moment thumping in Keith's breast and looking forth from his eager eyes. The pause in the doorway gave just time for the picture to be impressed forever in Keith's mind.

Her eyes were sparkling, and her lips parted with a smile of pleased surprise.

"How do you do?" She came forward with outstretched arm and a cordial greeting.

Mrs. Yorke could not repress a mother's pride at seeing the impression that her daughter's appearance had made."

Breakfast

2008-04-23T07:24:00.001-07:00

I went grocery shopping the other night at 10.30 and, when picking out cereal, had the overwhelming urge to buy peanut butter Cap'n Crunch. But Associated didn't come through for me on that score. So I got the new flavor of Special K--cinnamon pecan. I love pecans. I finished the rest of my shopping, then stared at the cereal wall for a while longer and debated getting Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but decided against it. The next morning I poured myself a bowl of new Special K, and guess what?!?!? It tastes like C.T.C!!! How crazy!

That same trip I overheard a woman who must have been actor talking on the phone about plays. When she was done, I overheard her as she was starting at the yogurt wall, thinking she was all alone, sing "You don't have my yogurt...."

That is all. For now.

Hm...

2008-04-19T06:38:00.000-07:00

You know it's been too long when you have a dream about washing your hair.

2008-03-11T04:14:00.000-07:00

I just saw a roach running around in the bathroom. Oh my god that was shocking and disgusting. If that thing gets in my room, I will cut a bitch, to use the old familiar phrase.

Holy crap, whoa

2008-03-04T21:18:00.000-08:00

"Uncommon Women" Week is running away with itself.

So far we have five professors signed up to give panels. We are sort of talking with the higher-ups of the Women's Project, a theatre company. Anne Cattaneo, the dramaturg for Lincoln Center and the original dramaturg for "Uncommon Women and Others" is coming to speak with us.

I just got two e-mails, one from Katie Carter saying that one of the chief editors of BITCH magazine wants to speak, and one from Mary Fleischer saying that Alexis Greene, a theatre critic, is also interested in coming.

Holy crap.

I also am presenting my Camille stuff at Honor's Day and just got a refund check for $11.25 all of which is going to laundry. Man, my life.

S.I.S.T.

2008-03-02T00:53:00.000-08:00

It's too bad that the acronym for "Stuff I Saw Today" sounds and looks so much like the word "cyst." Oh well.

Only two today, but I think they're pretty good:

1. Two girls and a dog in a red pick-up truck stopped at a light on 3rd avenue rocking out to Tiffany's "I Think We're Alone Now"

2. A lump of coal on 42nd Street

Stuff I Saw Yesterday:

2008-02-17T13:33:00.001-08:00

1. A man changing his dog's diaper on the street

2. A woman carrying her laundry, she was barefoot and had obviously just gotten (and ruined) a pedicure

3. A lighter fall out of my towel that I removed from the dryer, I think it had materialized in the wash

2/18/2008:
More stuff:

1. A North Carolina vanity plate that read "Homies2"

2. A man showing off to a woman by talking about "The Philadelphia Story" except that he called it "The Philadelphia Society" and then corrected himself by calling it "Philadelphia"

3. A guy wearing sweats and a bright red bowler hat with a feather in it.

4. A teacher from Marymount

Stuff I Saw Today:

2008-01-29T17:33:00.001-08:00

1. An old woman on the bus wearing two different shoes

2. Every person I passed in Home Depot singing along to Cher's "Believe"

3. Two guys shouting at each other, almost getting in a physical fight, in- and outside of a Wendy's

4. My face turn red after I put Icy Hot on it

My life is so blog-worthy these days.

2008-01-28T07:00:00.000-08:00

I'm thinking about getting a Gmail account. This is for several reasons: 1. I won't have mmc email forever 2. "Alywooo" is not very professional but mostly it's because 3. Gmail uses ICal which I fell in love with over January. I had long thought of how useful it would be to have a calendar that categorizes your events ("school", "work", "mega parties", etc.) and that you could either see them all at once, or only see one event, or maybe only two. And guess what! That's what ICal does!! But there's only two ways to get it: 1. Buy an Apple computer--totally out of the picture, or 2. Get a Gmail account.

So I was playing around with the sign up page trying to think of what my email address could be. "AliceYorke" isn't available, but "yorke.is.alice" is and so is "chieflike06", and "boilinghot18, too.

In conclusion, I recommend going to gmail.com and trying to find your perfect email address, because even though I could have "AliceLYorke", I think "chieflike06" is really calling to me.

The Big Texas-Sized Finale

2008-01-22T06:44:00.001-08:00

So my predictions were right. Thursday afternoon we went out to eat and then did some house hunting. We ate at a place called Brio and I got lobster bisque and salmon over angel hair pasta. Delicious! Then we got a chocolate sandwich for dessert. I'm not kidding. It was toasted bread covered with cinnamon-sugar butter then smeared with nutella, served with strawberries and a vanilla cream dipping sauce. Yowza. Yow-za. I started to say "ay chihuahua" a lot in Dallas, don't ask me why. I sort of love it though. After that we drove around some more, stumbling first upon John McCain Road (!) and then upon the Rumson of Dallas suburbs. HUGE houses and every one of them exactly the same as the one before. All brick, all huge and seven-gabled, all ugly. I don't get it, it's like invasion of the house-snatchers. Imagine waking up to find that your house had been replaced with a non-feeling, brick replica of the one you had the night before. And then over time, finding that all your neighbors' houses had been snatched as well! I for one would move! (Or, not move there to begin with, in this case).

But anyway, after that came the best part of the trip. I decided to forgo the first mall because it was outside and it was too cold out to willingly put oneself outside, so instead I opted for the second, the Grapevine Mills Mall. It was indoors and right next door to the huge convention center/hotel where my dad was meeting work people--the Gaylord Texan. Yes, that's really what it's called. And people don't seem to make jokes about it, either. Anywhoo, Pops and I had already visited the Mills Mall on a previous occaision: we went to the Books-A-Million hoping to find books about Dallas and came out empty handed. Literally no books about Dallas, not even a magazine. So I decided not to start my shopping trip there. Instead I started at Steve and Barry's, a store that one can find in the Manhattan Mall that was once known merely for its low-priced sweatshirts and baseball hats, but is now more famous for its celebrity clothing lines, including Venus William's "Eleven", Amanda Bynes's "Dear" and SJP's "Bitten." As you may know, I am not an endorser of celebrity clothing lines. I once rejected the softest pair of underpants I had ever felt because Jennifer Lopez made them and they were like air, silky, silky air. However, I am now a convert to the SJP cause. I walked out of that store with $90 worth of merchandise, and that was a lot of stuff: a dress, a down vest, a suit vest, a tee-shirt, earrings for The Fashionista, mittens, a bag, and sneakers. All of it only $8.98. Everything in the store was on sale for 9 bucks. I even made shopping friends during the nearly 2 hours I spent in that store; we would pass each other and wonder aloud if it was really real, and trade the joys of a good find and the sorrows of it not being in your size. I even found jeans that fit me. JEANS. that FIT. ME! Of course, I didn't buy them because the only one in my size had a broken zipper, but I'll be back to Steve and Barry's, oh I'll be back! I'm also pre-disposed to the store because my step-uncles are named Steve and Barry. Their sister's name is Peeka. It's really Susan, but we all call her Peeka. I also went to another store and bought an adorable dress for $25.

Normally, spending a hundred dollars is torture for me. I don't really like shopping and definitely don't like spending money. In fact, last night we were shredding my mom's old bank documents and we found my pass-book from HS which was a record of all my bank activity for three years---I made three withdrawls in three years, and one was just transferred to open another account. I don't spend. However, leaving the Grapevine Mills Mall, I discovered what Retail Therapy was, and it was glorious. The world was my fucking oyster and I was going to eat that mollusk like it was my job. Now, they didn't have oysters at the mall, but they did have Dad's root beer. So I bought that. And drank it. And it was good, and this is from Miss No-Thanks-Water's-Fine. Now, I didn't it all, or even half of it, but I still drank some of it.

Then I drove the Gaylord and waited in the parking lot for an hour reading Children of Men because I didn't want to pay $12 to park for an hour. But it got really cold in that car. Finally I went to pick up my dad and went inside this place. It is huge. Unfathomably big. And the inside is designed like some sort of Texan grotto. Bridges and streams and waterfalls and a glass ceiling with a huge star in Christmas lights. There was even a canyon with a covered wagon and a replica of an old-tyme train! Then we went back to the hotel were I ate left-overs of prime rib. Such was the high of my shopping excursion that I even considered going in the hot-tub at the hotel. The outdoor hot-tub. Then I realized that it was 30 degrees outside and if I got in it I would never leave. Instead I packed and went to bed.

Next morning we meet with a realtor, Joan, who takes us to several different townhouses, some of which were pretty nice. But the best thing about that trip was Joan's Cadillac. The back seat has not only its own heat controls, but a butt warmer with back warmer option and a button that changes the lumbar support in your seat. You can roll it higher or lower, and have it recede into the seat if you don't want it, or have it bulge out if you need a lot. It was awesome. I hope my road to fame leads me to a Caddy. The car and the golf guy, I'll need both when I'm famous and wealthy.

Then we go to the airport, no problem now that I've got my license. Get some food at Au Bon Pain--very Texan--check out the big fire some place on the tarmac (pictures to come on Facebook), and get on the plane! No delay this time! In fact, the plane got in early! But still no TVs or meals. Oh well. The driver who picked us up was quite rotund (that was the dispatcher's word), and could barely squeeze into the front seat when some huge mini-van parked right alongside the taxi. Then the backseat doors wouldn't open. Not from the inside or the outside. We finally got in, but that was pretty unnerving. I decided that in the event of a fire it was every man to himself and that I would push over the fat man to get to the working door. You've got to be ruthless.

So then I was home, yay! I also had an exciting non-Dallas weekend that I'll relate in brief. Saturday Kevyn and his brother and I took their mom to see Wicked. It was good. We ate a nearby restaurant. Not so good, the lasagna burned the shit out of my mouth. Then Kevyn and I saw Mad Money in Times Square and thought a fight was going to erupt in the theatre. Then we went uptown to Steve Yates's place and drank mini Heinekens. We didn't know they were mini when we bought them, but they were tiny. It was there that I discovered that Tony Daussat, who I knew to be from Texas, grew up in Grapevine!! How crazy!! Sunday we came back to my mom's house, played an awesome game called Hoopla (by the makers of Cranium) and Kevyn, the Fashionista and I went to see 27 Dresses. I'll say this: Kevyn preferred Mad Money. It was a very cute movie, but they didn't spend enough time on dreamy James Marsden, concentrating instead on an insipid side-plot about Heigel's sister and boss, neither of whom was very good at a thing we call Acting.

Yesterday was boring, I stayed inside all day and cleaned my room and--Oh! Got my computer working! I'm on it right now for the first time in nearly two years! Wooo! Today I'm going to apply for an internship and then go into the city and get burgers a la peanut butter day. Corinne, I'm sorry you won't be there, Katie's covering for you.

Okay, that's all. Wow. So much stuff.

Alice Does Dallas

2008-01-17T09:14:00.001-08:00

And it sucks. Probably more than Debbie did.

No, it's not really that bad. Just a little boring.

Sunday. The flight was at 5 out of Philadelphia so I get packed and go to my dad's and we get in a taxi and go to PA. That drive was probably the beginning of the boring since I can't read in cars so I just looked at pictures in magazines. Then we got to the airport and I realized that my driver's license was missing. It just wasn't in my wallet. And I couldn't remember taking it out, so who knows how long it had been gone for! But I get in because I have some other ID card which passes muster. So we're there around 3.30 for a 5 o'clock flight which we don't board until 6.30 and which doesn't leave until 7. Also, word for the wise: don't fly American. They have stopped serving meals and snacks (bag of chips, snickers bar, etc) cost $3. Also, there are no TVs and no radio stations! In short: nothing. But the flight was only 3 hours long and I had "Watchmen" to read. We are staying in a Quality Inn which is the Fair Cleaners of hotels: Quality, but not too much. (Except that I do get a king-sized bed!) We are in Irving, TX, a suburb of Dallas and there is nothing around but other hotels. We eat at the Denny's nearby. Of the server my dad whispers, "Is that a man or a woman?" Oh Baffles.

I spent Monday and Tuesday morning hanging out in the hotel watching daytime television and eating biscuits and gravy at the hotel breakfast. That part rocks. I love biscuits and gravy. Monday my dad and I get lunch at a French bakery (in Texas) which is pretty good. It is there, in Grapevine, that I discover that They aren't joking when They say everything is bigger here. Pictures (and poetry) to follow on the Facebook. Tuesday afternoon we get lunch with some people from my dad's work at the BBQ place across the street. It has a meat-pit. And sweet tea. It was great. Corinne, don't ever go to Texas, or at least, don't expect to eat much. In the afternoons we drive around looking for places for my dad to live. All the houses look the same here. They're all made from brick and it's sort of creepy. Streets and streets of the same house. Then you go to the next complex, and they're all the same as the last one. Yikes. Monday night we have dinner at a steak place and I have a delicious prime rib and a local beer called Shiner Bock--yum! Tuesday night we go out with my dad's boss and his wife to a seafood place that gets their scallops from 10 miles south of Sea Bright. I have Nigerian shrimp. They are called U-2s because you get less than two shrimp per pound. I wish I could have taken a picture, they were HUGE. Our server was a guy named Josh who looked like a young Alan Tudyk. We are running away together. Sorry Kevyn.

Yesterday my dad was in a meeting all day so I planned to go into Dallas proper. I found a few places that I wanted to visit and figured out the public transportation enough to have a day's worth of stuff to do. I drive (license-less) to the train station and realize that it is not 60 out like the weathermen said and also that there is no one else around. That's because the next train isn't for 40 minutes--who would have thought to look up the schedule?? So I go back to the hotel, put on more clothes, and resign myself to watch TV and wait for the next-next train. I get into the city no problem and make my way to the Sixth Floor Museum which is the JFK museum in the former Book Depository. It's a really good museum made better by the 6-year old French boy running around. However, don't ever go there by yourself, or at least bring tissues. It's really sad. After that I find a place to eat and get served the thickest slice of French toast I've ever seen. Yum! After that I discover that Dallas is not a tourist town. You can not walk from one place to another and the free trolleys that all the maps say exist, don't. I wander fruitlessly for two hours before deciding to just leave. So I get on the train and come back to the hotel, dejected. But then a Texan in his pick-up truck hits on me and I feel loads better! Sad but true. My dad and I go out to a chain-Mexican restaurant and I get a weak but good pomegranate margarita which I stumble through ordering, ending up saying "pomegrant margareety". Oh yeah.

Today I get up and do the old morning routine: biscuits and gravy, daytime TV. I decide to go to a local mall to get some new jeans because I discovered on Monday that, in addition to the hole in the knee that I knew about, there is also a hole in the crotch that I didn't know about. However, I haven't done that yet. I'm at my dad's office posting this blog. I bet this afternoon we'll do more house hunting. This evening my dad has a work-dinner so I'm going to go to a different mall (because that's what there is to do around here). Tomorrow we're going out with a real estate agent to look at townhouses and then we're coming back. I pretty much can't wait. I keep trying to loudly address Baffles as "Dad" in public places so that people stop thinking I'm his date. Yikes.

The trip (except yesterday) has been more fun than I'm letting on, but I'm bored right now, so everything is seeming extra boring in retrospect.

Also in case you were concerned, my mom found my license and sent it here. I have it now.

Well, that's all I suppose. See you all soonish.

PS. Texas is really flat.

I may be awesome at papers...

2007-12-15T11:47:00.000-08:00

...but I am not awesome at philosophy. I can not concentrate on reading these books. I pretty much want to die. DIE!!!! Why did I choose to write about a topic about which I know nothing?!

I am awesome at papers

2007-12-12T10:32:00.000-08:00

Even though I hand them in a month late.

My conclusion of my paper for "Camille" (I have just described that the author, Pam Gems, wanted an ending in which Marguerite doesn't die, but the producers wouldn't let her use it):

"Perhaps we shouldn’t mourn the fact that Gems didn’t get her ending. “La Dame aux Camélias” is, after all, a story of compromise: it is the story Dumas fils, who had to watch his lover sleep with other men; of Armand Duval, who nearly gave up his fortune and his lot in life for a dying woman; of Marguerite Gautier, who denied herself love for the sake of her son; and of Marie Duplessis, a prisoner not only of her health, but of a myth that has shadowed who she really was. And though Marguerite has yet to live through a performance, audiences continue to make sure that her story will never die."

Oooh yeeeahhh...

Highlights from a paper I'm writing:

2007-11-30T15:41:00.000-08:00

--"The Comedy of Errors is based on that good old-fashioned tale of mistaken identity—no really, it is based on a play that was probably written around the year 200 BC."

--"William Shakespeare found such inspiration in Plautus’ Menaechmi, or The Twin Brothers. It is a story of twin brothers (surprise!) who were separated at a very young age."

--"Thus commences a classic comedy of crumbling marriages, debtors and creditors, nearly incestuous relationships, narrowly avoided domestic violence, a courtesan, a nun, and two sets of identical twin brothers! And this was Shakespeare’s shortest play!"

I'm semi-seriously considering submitting this to Honor's Day--and I'm not even halfway done with it!

Also I should add that the paper is tentatively titled "Comedy of Errors--Comedy of Wonders!"

Exciting!

2007-11-19T12:52:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago Alicia Rachel Baker told me I was quickly becoming one of her favorite people; last week I was made. "You are definitely one of my favorite people" she said while laughing at one of my many witticisms.

Yessssssss.

Oh good god

2007-10-20T20:41:00.000-07:00

So the other day Julie Brown and Norrell told me about a crazy resident of the V who isn't a student. She lives on the 10th floor, but likes to use the men's single shower on the 4th floor. When some boys told her that they were for students only, she wrote Julie a crazy letter. I got to read it. It was incomprehensible and babbling. She attached her business card to it. She is the type of "clown" that gives clowns a bad name.

I am in the computer lab, minding my own business on the one out of five computers her that works. Enter who I immediately take to be said resident. She is short, with a brown bob that has bright red streaks in it. She is muttering to herself (?) about how the computers don't work, then starts talking to me about it. I make noncommittal responses. She then proceeds to fiddle with the wires of one computer, at which point I look over and notice that on the windowsill in a dog-carrying bag is a rabbit. A live rabbit. At first I thought it was a groundhog. I don't want that thing in the room with me.

She got the computer to work which is pretty cool, but she just now turned and asked me if I would mind if she opened the window. When I said no, she replied "Just trying to exercise a little computer courtesy." Except that she pronounced computer as "com-pooter".

I have to go. This ... no words.

Not very much

2007-09-23T08:07:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I saw a slug on the ground.

I'm thinking about going to Paris in January. I can't afford it, but I really want to. Or maybe I'll just take a "Stage Makeup" class at school. Not the same, but way more in my price range.

Yesterday I saw "Bourne Ultimatum". It was awesome.

It reminded me of when we went to Vermont. Katie, I know you won't be in school, but can we pretend you are just so we can do something on Spring Break? Great, thanks.

Things I am trying to do in the spring/summer:
--Get an internship---with the circus??
--Perform Shakespeare---with the circus??
---in Montana??
---with the Montana circus??

That's all for now.

No joke.

2007-08-06T08:12:00.001-07:00

Looking for an apartment in Manhattan is like willingly paying $700 to have a dog shit on your face.

T-Minus Two Days, Twelve Hours

2007-07-18T08:19:00.000-07:00

I'm really excited for Harry Potter Seven to come out. But also, I'm really not. Then I hear about things like Harry Potter Place, NYC and I'm excited again (http://www.scholastic.com/aboutscholastic/news/press_06262007_CP.htm). Then I hear about spoilers on the Internet and I get unexcited again. In fact, I'm completely paranoid. Last night one of Kevyn's friends called him at 12.30 am to warn him not to use Facebook or the Internet at all and not to watch the news because people are putting up lists of spoilers that are way more detailed than "Snape kills Dumbledore".

(Man, wouldn't it have been awesome if UPS had figured out a way to get owls to deliver people's books to them??????)

If someone in Barnes and Noble on Friday/Saturday ruins this book for me, I will kill. Or maybe I'll just do a Julia and shout "YOU WILL BURN" at the offending party. I am hoping that the Barnes and Noble in Union Square will be a place of owls and Jim Dale and a place of love and respect for Harry Potter ; the former are guaranteed, but I'm worried about the latter.

I will share with you all the sentence I read in King Dork immediately following the end of Kevyn's phone call last night that seems eerily befitting to the situation:

"At moments like these, it's hard to tell whether you're being too paranoid or just paranoid enough."

I need to go. I've spent too much time on the Internet today.

Paris, Quatre--Le Dernier

2007-07-10T11:39:00.000-07:00

Since my last post, I've...

-Lost my memory, apparently, since I can't remember anything we did last week
-Rehearsed a lot
-Freaked out because I thought that if I wanted to change my flight I would have to buy a ticket for $3300
-Spoken to Pascal at Continental who assured me that that wouldn't happen
-Changed my flight to tomorrow at 1.40 pm
-Rehearsed some more
-Worried that our show would get rained out
-Been checked out by the creepy coke addict sound guy, Bruno
-Been in a totally awesome (if not entirely what we rehearsed so much) show about trains
-Become best friends with 9-year old Enzo by playing car racing games on his PSP
-Gotten really drunk on champagne with some really awesome people
-Gotten a huge scrape on my elbow by falling down steep stairs whilst being really drunk
-Said goodbye to all of my new friends
-Attempted to take Real World-style photos of each of them departing
-Been disappointed by my guidebooks
-Seen the Arc de Triomphe (more like Arc de Let Down)
-Walked the Champs-Elysee
-Seen a pigeon nibbling at dog poop
-Gotten a kiss from one Pascal Laurent (who also told me that I was lovely)
-Packed to come home

(Claire, did I forget anything?)

I'm about to go see the Eiffel Tower all lit up, I figured that was a fitting thing to do my last night here since I can't find any midnight shows of Harry Potter. I am assuming, Katie, that you'll be seeing it again almost the instant I get back (which is around 4.30 tomorrow afternoon).

I can't wait to be home!

Au revoir, Paris!

(Pictures to follow on Facebook)

Paris, Trois

2007-07-05T02:57:00.000-07:00

Since my last post I've...

--Almost seen Gregorian chanting with Lizz
--Seen Lizz!! (Her hair was braided and she wore African dresses every day!)
--Smelled 300-year old pee at Versailles
--Gotten rope burns from learning to the trapeze
--Chatted with circus performers
--Walked on meter-high stilts
--Had maybe the best meal of my life at Super Nature
--Had the best macaroons in Paris at Laduree
--Visited the Catacombs, Pere Lachaise Cemetary and the Garden of Childhood Fears all in one day
--Celebrated the birthday of the only male in our group by ordering a Jack and Coke to his Cosmo
--Been one of the "very rare cases" to burn myself on Ace laundry detergent
--Celebrated the Fourth of July by waiting an hour and a half for overpriced, mediocre American food at the Hard Rock Cafe

See you all soonish!

Paris deux

2007-06-25T09:16:00.001-07:00

Things I've done since my last post:

-Reprised the audition for Sleeping Beauty by getting to act like wind
-Feted la musique with all of France on June 21st, the Fete de la Musique
-Arrived in Rouen, the site of Joan of Arc's burning
-Seen some really great street theatre
-Gotten attacked
-Seen some really bad street theatre
-Drunk hard cider on the site where Joan was burnt
-Read aloud from a book called "The Secrets of the Model Dorm"

Yeah.

Paris.

2007-06-20T12:48:00.000-07:00

Things I have done since I've gotten here:

--Eaten raw steak
--Fallen in love with Jean-Paul Gaultier
--Convinced a Swedish model that I'm a professional face painter
--Seen a man eat a balloon animal balloon
--Drunk wine out of a baby bottle
--Sung "Santaria" in front of a crowd on the steps of Sacre Coeur
--Had a rainy picnic beneath the Eiffel Tower
--Ribbon dancing

Oh yeah.

2007-06-11T08:12:00.000-07:00

My dad thinks I am a master of the French language. I am just about to call a French businessman to try to arrange a time for an American businessman to call him. I guess. I don't even really know. All I know is that this phone call will take place in a French that I definitely don't speak--business French. Also, in my nervousness about this conversation, I have completely forgotten English and can't tell if I've spelled business correctly despite Spell Check's insistence that I have. OH GOD SAVE ME FROM MYSELF!

I just did it. If this company dies, it is so not my fault.

Master Baker?

2007-06-07T07:36:00.001-07:00

Sometime in the recent past I ate a delicious Seven-Layer Bar at a bake sale and scavenged my mother's cook books for the recipe, to no avail. It was a heavenly mix of graham crackers, chocolate, peanut butter and coconut... but that was only four layers. So yesterday I went into Whole Foods when I was much too hungry to be doing any sort of food shopping and proceeded to buy the ingredients necessary for my own recipe of Seven-Layer Bars. I wanted a graham cracker crust, a layer of peanut butter and a layer of brownie, sprinkled with coconut and walnuts.

I go back to Kevyn's where I have the house to myself...perfect time for kitchen experiments. Preheat the oven. Melt a bar of butter. Crumble up some graham crackers. This is very tedious and trying for the fingers. After I feel like I've got enough crumbs, I stick the mix in the pan. There are some bare patches, but I carry on. I begin to refer to them as the Heart Attack Bar as I've already used an entire stick off butter and this is only Layer One. Next I melt a bag of peanut butter chips and spread them on top of the graham cracker crust. Of course, Kevyn doesn't have a spatula or any sort of real spreading tool, so I use the back of a spoon. Inefficient. The graham cracker crust keeps coming up and mixing with the peanut butter. Next I mix the brownie batter. I have planned to only do half, but then I'm thinking that actual brownies might be too heavy, so I decide to eliminate the egg to make them gooier. So I throw in half the mix, add some water (a little too much, I realize, a little too late) then some vegetable oil, mix that all up, pour it onto the peanut butter layer. I start crumbling walnuts, but this, too, is trying on the fingers and I give up when I have enough for only half the pan. I decide to say that I did that on purpose. A Nut side and a No Nut side. Then comes the coconut. Oil is already seeping up from the bottom.

I stick it in the oven for 15 minutes and start to wash the many dishes I've used. 15 minutes later I pull it out of the oven, knowing that it won't have fully cooked, but I was not expecting it to have melted. It is a gooey, gross looking mess. I stick in in for another 20 minutes. When I come back, the edges look cooked, but the inside is still very gooey. So gooey, in fact, it's like lava. So much like lava, in fact, it's boiling. That was disquieting. I stick in back in the oven for another 20 minutes. After that is over, I pull it out. The inside is still gooey, but I realize that if it's boiling, it will continue to cook itself without the help of the oven. The amount of oil that is bubbling over the surface is disgusting. I try to sop some up with a paper towel. I'm actually pretty successful, and once a lot of the oil is removed, the concoction looks done.

Kevyn comes home after it's cooled a little so I decide to cut us some pieces to see if it's edible. The graham cracker crust has to be scooped onto our plates with a spoon, but it's definitely edible. Sort of delicious even. After we had dinner, Kevyn even went back for another square, a la mode this time.

I begin to realize something. I've always thought that I was better at baking than cooking. When you cook, everything is To Taste. Throw in as much as you want of whatever you want and it'll come out more or less fine. Baking is not like that. Baking requires precision and exact measurements. I realized that I cook like I'm baking--seeking specificity and rules--and that I bake like I'm cooking. I didn't measure how much water and oil I put into the brownie mix. I just threw it in, knowing that there needed to be more oil. I've decided that after Kevyn and I finish this batch of Heart Attack Bars and we both have recovered from our double bypass surgeries, I will try again. This time with a lot more forethought and measuring.

Purchases I Made Today in Desperation

2007-05-30T17:29:00.001-07:00

--Bottle of orange juice and Sarah Lee corn muffin
--Luna bar and banana
--Study Abroad: Paris; Frommer's Irreverent Guide to Paris; 25 Ultimate Experiences: France; Man Walks into a Room by Nicole Krauss
--The French Chef Cookbook by Julia Child; a set of three Moleskine journals, unlined
--Mustard colored dress from Forever 21

2007-05-18T12:23:00.000-07:00

Do you ever find yourself pulled over on the shoulder of the New Jersey Turnpike with a cracked windshield, tying the hood of a car down with shoelaces?

If not, you've never been me.

THE STORY:

So on Thursday Kevyn came to the V to help me move out. Hours before I had called my dad to see if he could do the job in case it rained, because I did not, under any circumstances, want a repeat of last year's disaster. This year, instead, became its own. However, driving home with my dad would mean missing The Office (which I did anyway) and Kevyn is more fun than Baffles. So Kevyn arrives after having gotten gas and changed his oil in Brooklyn. This is important because it leads to the first instance of hood problems. Kevyn drove from this Brooklyn gas station to the V with his hood not properly latched down. When I greeted him, he asked me if I had any string, and of course I did not. Something had happened to the hood latch so that when he tried to shut it, nothing happened. So we packed up my room and finally were ready to leave an hour after I should have been gone. Oops. During this time, Kevyn has found a shoe in his backseat and threaded the shoelace around the latch and the front of his car to hold the hood.
And we're off. We breeze through the Lincoln Tunnel, bypassing the busy 47th street entrance, opting instead for the secret one at 30th. As we get into New Jersey we're discussing the hood problem, and how we should pull over whenever we can to check that it is tied down well. Kevyn brings up the scene in Tommy Boy when the hood pops up. We both agree that we're not sure whether that's really possible. We pull over at the first rest stop: the string seems to be holding up well and my stuff is all safe in the back. Burger King isn't that appetizing so we decide to pull over at the next rest stop to eat and to find another string to add to the first.
And we're off, again. We pass IKEA and I'm thinking about how much fun that store is when there is a very loud bang and the entire windshield is obstructed by the hood that has just popped up. The windshield begins to crack. My breathing ceases entirely. We start freaking out because this just had to happen right near an on-ramp where people are zooming onto the highway and leaving us no room to pull over. All I can think about is the possibility that the windshield is going to explode on us and we will be stopped in a car in the middle of the Turnpike covered in lacerations and glass shards. Finally we pull over and Kevyn gets the hood back down. There is, of course, a humongous dent in it. Kevyn starts cursing and I suggest that we call someone. The police? AAA? He calls his dad. His dad is basically deaf. His dad is in Maryland. His dad is also drunk. His dad is no help. So Kevyn rips the shoelaces out of the shoes he's wearing and begins to lace up the front of the car again. All I can think about is how this would not have happened had I had my dad pick me up. But back to the problem at hand. Because I have all my worldly possessions in the back of his truck, I begin pulling the laces out of several pairs of my own shoes and hand them to Kevyn. He takes them and tells me to get in the car. The order is well intentioned--it's fucking freezing out--but I don't want to be sitting in the car with the cracked windshield.
Kevyn is satisfied with the job he has done, and we are off. Again. Warning lights on, we drive agonizingly slowly. I am now petrified of this drive. Finally we find the next rest stop. We pull over, park, and get out to get some much needed food. We order more Popeyes chicken and mashed potatoes than we can possibly eat. We realize that, in nearly three years, this may be our first Fast Food Date. We decide that that's enough. I call my mom. She offers to come get us if something happens again, and luckily it doesn't. The rest of the journey goes rather smoothly--I bought some small bungee cords in the gas station to secure our shoelace job. However, it's only once we're in the car and back on the highway that we realize we left all my worldly possessions in the open back of Kevyn's truck for nearly an hour. At this point, I could care less whether anyone took anything. I just want to be home.
I realize that my life may not contain tons of crazy adventures with foreign strangers, but it does seem to contain a lot of car accidents. I'm not sure I like this realization.
But we did spend most of the day yesterday making chess pieces out of clay. Oh life.

Last Weekend

2007-05-08T06:54:00.000-07:00

Was a pretty great one.

Friday included these highlights:

--Seeing my Uncle Jim again
--Getting drunk with my family in a bar where Janet Cho works
--Meeting my brother's roommate's Irish boyfriend
--Getting margarita dumped on me by my uncle
--Getting bitten in the arm by my brother
--Hopping fences with my family
--Going to the ER with my family
--Eating good food and drinking more beer with different members of my family
--Meeting a crazy man in the waiting room of the hospital
--Getting a loving drunk dial from some of my friends who were at the boat dance

Saturday:

--Riding the T and reminiscing about the fun parts of my last trip to Boston
--Watching Doug's graduation ceremony through binoculars
--Identifying Doug in the crowd by his silver tie and then realizing that he'd shaved his head the night before
--Text messaging Doug and then watching his responses through the binoculars
--The horrible speech by Ned Negroponte about giving laptops to children in poor countries
--The awesome speech by the student speaker who I'm sure raps in his free time
--Barbeque in Brookline
--Singing the Birthday Dirge to my sister
--Other people in the restaurant requesting that we sing the Birthday Dirge again for their son
--High-speed go-karting with my family
--Being the only member of my family to get a penalty during a go-kart race

Sunday:

--Watching the woman who graciously let us stay in her house try to foist a sparkly old-lady shirt onto my mother
--Hearing her tell me that Sparkles Are My Mother's Color, as though sparkles were a color
--Disappointing FrenchToast but delicious fresh-squeezed orange juice
--Dreaming that I was a millionaire so that I could shop at a store with goreous shoes, high-waisted jeans, and short-alls that actually looked cool
--After not driving a car in several months, having my first experience doing so be in lots of traffic with crazy drivers
--Getting home
--Kevyn driving down from Brooklyn to see me and arriving at 11.30 pm
--Sleeping in my own bed

2007-04-30T07:46:00.000-07:00

Do you ever have dreams about dreams that you just had? I do sometimes.

2007-04-26T17:05:00.000-07:00

Tonight I'm having a pity party for myself in room 468 of the Vanderbilt YMCA. You both are invited. In fact, I'd love you to come.

It is 10am.

2007-04-22T07:00:00.000-07:00

This morning I got up at 7.30 to try to go to Lincoln Center and get free tickets to see the New York City Ballet perform "Romeo and Juliet". The line wound around the block and I didn't get them. But when I went to the bathroom this morning to brush my teeth, I noticed a girl come out of her room and go into the shower rooms. I notice this specific girl a lot because, one, she lives on my floor, and two, we used to work at the Gap together. Since living in the same building with her, I've begun to notice what an odd drive she has. It's as though she's always determined to do whatever she's doing. Just determined.

So this particular morning, I noticed her go into the shower room. As I began to brush my teeth, she came into the bathroom and began to brush hers. I finished brushing mine, and I believe that it was in the middle of my mouthwash gargling that I realized she'd probably turned the water in the shower on to let it get warm, but I happen to know that this girl brushes her teeth forever and that the showers don't need that much time to get warm. In fact, in the time that it took me to brush my teeth, gargle mouthwash, pee, and wash my hands, she brushed her teeth. Somewhere in that time, I decided that if she hadn't left before I did, that I would go into the bathroom and turn her shower off. Sure enough, I washed my hands and she was still brushing away, finally beginning to finish up. So I went into the shower room, where, sure enough, the shower was running--and it was turned on to as hot as you can turn those knobs--and I turned it off. As I opened the door to leave, guess who is walking in. I said "Excuse me" and left.

I went back to my room and wondered what our next interaction would be like. What if we found ourselves both waiting for the elevators at the same time. Would she ask me if I'd turned the water off? What would I say?

I didn't see her until I came back from my unsuccessful ballet trek. I saw her walking down the hallway in my direction, and I averted my eyes when we passed.

I wonder what she did when she came in and the shower that had been running when she left was now off. I wonder what she thought I'd been doing in there, as there was absolutely no reason for me to be in that room. I wonder how long it took her to connect my presence with the mysterious stoppage of her water. Most of all, I wonder if she thinks I'm crazy. I probably am.

2007-04-19T05:45:00.000-07:00

I'm having an odd week. The play is over, and though that's sort of nice, it's left me with nothing to do in my evenings. Also, Kevyn left on Monday for a ten day vacation to Las Vegas and LA. So now I have even less to do with my evenings. Somehow, though, this whole week, I've gone to bed at 1 am every night, and woken up at 8.30 am or earlier every day. It's pretty much my own doing--I keep staying up to watch Scrubs at 11.30 and midnight.

I guess that's all I've got to say.

It is several hours later now. I got up at 8.30 today to rehearse with my scene partner, who called me ten minutes before I was about to walk out the door to tell me that he was at the dentist and would be unable to rehearse. Everything he says is a lie. I decided that I could go to school, get a little work done and nap, or finish watching "Spiderman" (which I'd started last night) and then go to school. Obviously I chose Spiderman. Boy, that was a good decision.

Scooters

2007-04-09T08:09:00.000-07:00

I've decided to make this post about scooters because I always see that as an example of what one can label one's post, and today I want to correctly label a post about scooters.

-My brother's childhood nickname was Scooter.
-Once when he was a baby my parents went out to dinner at a Chinese restaurant with him. The waiter asked what his name was; misunderstanding their reply of "It's Doug" the waiter called him "Stug" all night long.

-Has either of you ever eaten a Scooter Pie? What are they?
-If I ever go on a crosscountry musical roadtrip I will take up smoking just that I can buy "a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner's pies".

-My brother Scooter once owned a scooter. You both might remember when he drove that scooter through a school hallway.
-I told him yesterday that I wished he had driven the scooter across the platform when he graduated high school. Oh well.

-I like to see grown men in business suits riding Razor scooters around the city. It warms the cockles of my heart.

-I once ran into a purple Mack truck while riding a scooter. (That was on a vacation, so I can also label this post Vacation. Also, I fell down, so can I label this Fall as well?)
-I wasn't badly injured in this accident but I still have a fairly prominent scar from it on my arm. For a good while I had little feeling in the area where that scar was. Don't worry, it's back now.

-Mrs. Dowling called it "Scooting" when her dog would sit down on a rug or the ground and pull itself along by its front legs, effectively wiping its ass on whatever surface it was scooting on.

Anyone got any to share?

2007-04-02T08:23:00.000-07:00

We have five rehearsals left. Half of the readers of this blog are coming to see my play. That makes it sound like a lot, but it's not. It's really not.

Also, have either of you seen the movie "The Secret of Roan Inish"? It's great.

I don't really have much to say. Actually, if I talked about my day yesterday, it would sound a lot like Katie's last post, but without the flowers and cupcakes. We went out to brunch with his family then took a two hour nap then I won in Rummy then we both painted for several hours, then we made steak and watched old episodes of NBC's Comedy Night Done Right. That's the painting I'm painting. Kevyn painted me painting. Craaaaazy, right? This morning we will make rice krispie treats and take pictures and then I will go to school and then we will go to a hookah party. And then we will sleep and sleep and sleep like babies.

I need my beauty rest for next week.

Oh god, it's next week.

2007-03-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow I have to go reserve tickets for six of Kevyn's family members to come see my play. Thinking about them seeing this is, I think, what has me the most nervous. I'd rather they'd seen me in The Hobbit. One thousand times rather.

2007-03-08T14:05:00.000-08:00

I am sitting in the library. There is a man sitting at the same table as I am, diagonally across from me. He is reading a book and lounging back in his chair. He has one arm extended into the air with which he is continually making the motion of shooting a basket. But it is so languid that it's more like a cat pawing a ball of string. This fascinated me and I watched out the corner of my eye for a while, when all of sudden he turned in my direction, and I could see that he was crying. He wiped away the tear, took a moment, and then returned to lounging and pawing. I find myself unable to stop staring at him. I really want to know what book he is reading.

L'ete

2007-02-25T10:33:00.000-08:00

Hey World,

I got accepted to that program in France. Katie, Caitlin told me that you didn't know where in France it was. It's in Paris, France.

So, World, do you know anyone who wants to give me five thousand dollars, and an extra grand to anyone who might want to come visit me?

Thanks, World, thanks.

2007-02-20T21:06:00.000-08:00

In the vein of a recent post that I made to Fuzeit, I often get jingles stuck in my head. Frequently it's the Outback Steakhouse song. I've had a little trouble coming to terms with this, but I'm just going to admit it: I am a fan of that song. If it were not a jingle, I would listen to it all the time.

So guys, come on.....Let's go Outback tonight, life will still be there tomorrow....

Games

2007-02-18T21:06:00.000-08:00

Kevyn beats me at every single board game we play together. It always ends up putting me in a rather foul mood. He often tries to cheer me up by saying such heartwarming things as "You're just not good at games of strategy... do you think so too?" Then he gives up trying to cheer me and falls asleep.

It was a banner evening.

Valentine's Day

2007-02-16T09:42:00.000-08:00

After babysitting for five hours in wet shoes and socks, Dr. Fallis at the walk-in clinic told me that I had "a little bronchitis".

So I went home, settled myself in with the bottle of white grape juice that Lizz procured for me. Then Katie came over and we watched the first disc of "Pride and Prejudice".

Half of the people who will read this already know about this because they were there.

Anyway, I hope that both of your days were just as fun as mine... and plagued by fewer illnesses.

2007-02-13T21:21:00.000-08:00

I can't sleep. I really want to be asleep, though.

Spoonerism of the Worst Kind

2007-02-05T13:10:00.000-08:00

Last week, Kevyn called the common gynecological exam a Pap Shmear. I told him that "shmear" was a common term for cream cheese and that he should never confuse the two again.

2007-01-24T19:35:00.000-08:00

Today I sent out my application to study in France over the summer and my sister got accepted to college.

A week in review

2007-01-21T07:44:00.000-08:00

Monday--I went to a yoga class that nearly killed all my muscles.
Tuesday--I babysat.
Wednesday--I babysat.
Thursday--Kevyn and I went to dinner at Sardi's before going to see Spamalot.
Friday--I babysat and then went to MOMA's free Fridays.
Saturday--Kevyn, my mom and I went to the Brooklyn Museum to see the Annie Liebowitz exhibit. On our way out, we saw Annie Liebowitz there. Then Kevyn and I watched my mom's recorded copy of Thursday's Scrubs and The Office over dinner and mudslides. We played a game called Cathedral. Kevyn kicked my mudslide all over the floor.
Sunday--Nothing much has happened yet.