NYC Debut This Week!

Anytime I read DEBUT I read deah-butt. And then I remember I have a degree in English and I know how to read.

Anyway, I am making my NYC deeah-bew this week at The Looking Glass Theatre. Here is the info: http://thelookingglasstheatre.homestead.com/ForW10.html

I am week 3 and my headshot looks weird. It's not a normal headshot obvi, but it's the best I can do for right now!!!!

So come see me all my followers! I know you are too excited for words. Don't worry you don't have to say anything to come see me. I will talk. You can listen. You're welcome.

The Day Amy Left...

I became very determined to make it on my ‘own’ in New York City. You might have all been thinking that was what I was dong in the first place but you would be sadly mistaken. It was with Amy’s guidance that got me the apartment I am now living in and the job that I now work at so without her I wouldn’t know a crawfish from a tadpole up here in New York City (that last part is suppose to be read in a hick accent. I’ll give you sometime to go back and reread it in its proper form)

Good? Great. And so with the departure of my sister I have had to make a few adjustments in my life. The biggest and I suppose the most important thing is that I have had to make friends. That’s right. I had to make them. In college it was easy. Everyone wants to be your friend and with the theatre department it’s like a built in generator of friends and you got to choose from the lot. Here it’s a little different. You have to work at it. And you have to work hard. You have to make plans, spend money, and stay up late. Because of the location you just don’t hop in a car and off you go to see your friends. You have to set aside time because it’s gonna take you a while to get there and to get back. And you have to be dedicated and with all this work you have to be really picky about who you choose to make this commitment to. This is why on Friends, How I Met Your Mother, Sex and the City and other New York based TV shows there is a core group and no one else. Because they have whittled all of them down to those four or five, and that’s it. This is a science fact. To have friends, you have to be picky.

I have many groups of friends that basically consist of my modeling friends who I see at go-sees and what not, my intern friends that I see at theatre stuff and occasionally meet up with, my select intern friends that I meet up with outside of theatre stuff, my roommates who are my go-to TV watching buddies and shopping dates, and my Amy friends who I met through her and have stayed in contact with.

There is really no point to this blog except to show y'all that I have friends. I am totally homesick for my college friends and of course the Boy but rest assured my lovely followers, I am not alone up here in the good ‘ol Empire State. I talk to people and they talk back. I promise.

The Sickness

Today was the first day that I was sick in NYC. I arrived back from Texas where I spent last weekend and bam! I have been waiting for this day for the past two and half months. Everyone, I mean everyone, told me that I was for sure going to get sick when I first moved up here, like there was some sort of newcomers plague and only if you survived it would you be allowed to stay. Well it never happened. I thought I had dodged by or hidden myself well enough amongst the good-looking people that the plague just took me for a seasoned veteran. But this is what I have been waiting for, this horror called The Sickness.

I have decided through my genius-doctorial skills that I have some swelling and infection in my lymph nodes and this is causing my jaw/neck/all around face to be in great pain. Also, there is likelihood that I have a sinus infection in the sinus area of my face. As I left all my old antibiotics at home in Texas when I moved, I have no back up prescriptions. I also am determined not to go to the doctor since I know what is wrong with me and have a great belief in the power of willing my body to get better. Plus, it’s really expensive.

So here I sit, with my Sickness. This morning was the first time I had gone out in NYC with it. This is my exact recount of this morning:

Leaving the house: “what a nice day, just right for a fall jacket and scarf. I actually feel a little better in the fresh air.

Getting on the subway: “Yes! I made it through the doors just in time! I wish I could sit down. It’s kinda hot in here.”

At a stop as a lady gets off: “I want to sit ther----ugh! I was gonna sit there!”

Still on the subway: “fuck it’s hot. I am taking off my jacket.”

Still still on the subway: “I might die from heat. Why did I wear clothes? I have a fever. My face hurts and I am going to die on the subway. I want to sit down.”

1 stop away a seat opens up: “well, now I can’t sit down, because then I’m the bitch that sits down for only one stop. Please hurry train, I will push you with my mind so you will go faster. GGRRUHHH!”

Off the subway and on the escalator: “I am literally exhausted from that ride. I will walk this slow to the escalator. I will get on the standing side and will not appreciate it. I will wait till the last step before I get off the escalator so as to not exert any energy. I am sick and you can not get mad at me.”

Outside going to my office: “this sun is too bright. Where are my sunglasses? WHERE ARE MY SUNGLASSES!?!?!? I know I put them here before I left Texas. WHERE ARE THEY?!?!?”

Crossing the street: “I WILL make this face at every taxi/person/building/litter I meet on the street. I hate the world. I am angry. And this is how I express my anger.”

In the building: “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me. Don’t. Look. At. Me.”

Finally in the office: “cough cough cough, sneeze, sneeze sneeze. Uggghhhhhhhhhmmmggjjllloo. I hate my life.”

Then I wrote this blog over the next 9 hours. Because I kept getting distracted by my eyes watery/nose running/sleepy time broth eating/nasty Theraflu taking/necessary bathroom breaking/ and The Office on megavideo watching.

All very essential to my day of sickness.

Umbrella Chicken

There's this game called "Umbrella Chicken" that all respectable New Yorkers play. When it rains, or even drizzles, outside we all take out our umbrellas and we begin this time honored tradition that presidents, kings and simple peasants have enjoyed for hundreds on years.

There are two divisions: large and small. The smaller ones are secluded into their own category but the large division plays in both. You have to play in both. You have no choice.  

The goal of the game is to make it from one point of New York to other without being destroyed or knocked over by the elements as well as other umbrellas. It never goes as smoothly as the movies make it out to be.

That looks like a walk in the park compared to war zone of precipitating NYC.

Here are the basic rules to "Umbrella Chicken"

1. Bigger umbrellas always have to go above little umbrellas, no matter what the case. You may feel this is unfair but the little umbrellas simply won't reach high enough to clear the larger ones. If you are in a particularly bad mood, due to a lost battle of U.C. beforehand or your girlfriend just dumped you, you may not move your big umbrella and in that sense you become a dick. And, beware, U.C. has a funny way of paying people back for their dick-ness, so heed my warning townsfolk, and raise your umbrellas to the little people with little umbrellas.

2. When approaching an on comer with a small umbrella, they are able to attach it to the top of their head to make it appear smaller and essentially making you look like an ass if you don't move yours out of the way because they have made the gesture to attach it to their heads. Giving you the sign you have lost the battle and to just keep moving.

3. Approaching a big umbrella with a big umbrella is when the magic happens and there are two options on how to proceed:
     A. To see who is going to move over far enough to let the other pass, this is the pussy move and you should strive to not be the movee but the one who makes the other move i.e. the mover. In this sense you have dominated the on comer and are the victor of the round.
     B. One of you may use the small technique and attach the big umbrella to the top of your head and make the on comer lift their umbrella high in the air, which in the end soaks them with water. You should never be tempted to try and both lift your umbrellas in the air. This will cause a mid-air collision and not only you will suffer the consequences so will the surrounding spectators, and no one needs that blood on their hands.

4. Undoubtedly, you will have the Bumpers in the crowd, these are the people that don't know how to play the sport therefore take no notice. These people will "accidentally" bump your umbrella with theirs. These. People. Are. Bitches. The best way to deal with them is to stop them in their soggy wet tracks, take their umbrella, break it in two, throw it in front of the next cab (a cab is not necessary, any car will do), and destroy it. They have to be taught, it's the only way they will learn.

5. You have to take the win where you can get it. Don't try to be the bigger man in this sport, there is no bigger man, there is wet and dry. If you're wet, you lose. If you're dry, you win. Simple science fact.

I hope this has helped you all to see the dangers of this game but also the fun that can be had if played correctly. Remember, always go for the kill. There's really no other point to the game than that. Have fun kids and at all costs, stay dry!

Europa uses magic.

I have ultimately decided that Europa does not actually make food. That somehow they have food in the store but not really. I can only presume it is magic. I will elaborate.

At my lovely little job I have the privilege of running down to Europa to fetch my boss’s lunch. Every. Day. Now, I am not complaining because this gives me ample time to decide what I would like to eat when it is my turn. My turn comes around 2 or 3 in the afternoon. My boss eats around 11 in the morning. The difference in time is highly important. Note it.

11 and 12 o’clockers get a variety of food to choose from. The world is their buffet. Literally. Well at least Europe is, hence the name. They can choose from soups, salads, and my favorite, a huge selection of presscattas, which is like a Panini only round. So everyday I am wowed by this feast of men and find myself taken in by the wonders of the smells and the wonders of the wonder! I get Boss’s lunch and head back upstairs.

“I know exactly what I’m gonna get. It is gonna be delicious in my belly. It will be Awesome! Chicken Fajita Presscatta I will dominate you!”

So I go back up to my desk and I wait patiently for another three hours to pass so that I am able to run down ever so cheerfully and fulfill the dire need I have acquired for this one item. I wait……I wait……..I wait. Finally! 2 o’clock rolls around I shoot my customary e-mail saying I’m running out to lunch and like a flash, I’m out of there! I punch anyone in my way and I cut the line. When I finally get to the selection case not only do they not have my Chicken Fajita Presscatta, they have nothing. NOTHING!

But the worse of it is, since I have built up the desire to consume the one thing that can quench my thirst for food I tend to not go down without a fight. I begin with staring at the case for a long period of time. Willing the presscatta to come out of hiding. When that fails I start staring at the workers willing them to make me a fresh presscatta. When that ultimately fails and I can’t continue to make eye contact, I start searching frantically for the next best thing. But that’s just it, there is no next best thing. I go to the pasta section,

“Linguini please.”

“We have no linguini” (Italian accent, not being stereotypical, Luis has an Italian accent)

I run over to the sandwich bar,

“Italian sandwich with salami, please.”

“We are saving that for the person behind you. And there is no more.”

I run over to the salad bar

“Don’t bother, no more lettuce today!”

They don’t have food there. I am 100% sure that when the food runs out they just close the doors. But people keep filing in, me included. They hang around as if some magic is going to happen, the same magic that made the food appear in the first place will take place again. We are hopers and dreamers, my friends. Hopers and dreamers.

Then it’s spotted… the crumb at the back of the case. You may say to yourself, I would just walk somewhere else (there’s actually another Europa a couple streets away) but not my comrades and I. Oh No! That crumb is our salvation. We do not look down upon it for being so small, no. We eagerly and humbly ask how much do they want for the crumb in the back of the case? They tell us it is not for sell. Bitches.

Europa does not make food, not even crumbs. And I wholeheartedly believe that the 11 and 12 o’clockers don’t know how lucky they truly are and the magic they behold every day. Every slurp of a noodle, every crunch of a piece of lettuce, every cheese string pulled from a Chicken Fajita Presscatta, every crumb they nonchalantly discard. That is my heaven, that is my Olympus, that is my everything. 

Update: today I had a Chicken Fajita Presscatta. It was ok.

Angry In-Bred Buffalo

I have a sneaky suspicion that New York is trying to break-up me and my boyfriend. Don’t believe me? Well you're wrong. These are facts that will prove I'm right:

1) Anytime we talk on the phone, EVER, there seems to be a sports rally of semi trucks on the street all deciding to have a black market style race off. I am just as surprised as you that there would be so many semi trucks about but there are and they are determined to ram their engines just when I tell him “you’re breaking up, I can’t hear you.” And he automatically assumes I have said “We’re breaking up, I kinda hate you.” Which is close...but not really the point I was trying to make.

2) And then when I can finally hear him and I want to tell him all about my day I get to the subway. Now I don’t know if you know this, but subways are under ground. Which is highly inconvenient for my love life. As I am talking to him about how wonderful my day is and about this guy in the office that made me laugh so hard I almost threw up, I all of sudden have to get off the phone because guess what? There’s no damn Wi-Fi three stories underground which I call bullshit on by the way. We have it in airplanes now. Airplanes. Things flying through the air have wireless internet. I think someone somewhere could get on the whole not being able talk on the subway deal. Or at least, get on the ‘move the subways above ground’ project I proposed the second day I got here. Anyway, so my quick departure from the phone allows the little thoughts to build up in my boyfriends head such as

“that guy does sound funny”

“I wonder why they were talking in the kitchen for so long?”

“what was he doing? Trying to make her laugh?”

“that’s my job!”

“Is he trying to replace me?”                                           

“he’s trying to replace me!”

“And she’s letting him!”

“this is all her fault!”

“she should have never almost threw up laughed so much at him!”

“and then she got off the phone so quick, she probably is going to meet him and almost throw up laugh some more!”

“I hate her.”

So when I do finally call him back after my 30 minute ride home and I think everything is fine and dandy, I am bombarded with this:

“HOW COULD YOU ALMOST THROW UP LAUGH AT A GUY IN THE KITCHEN!!?!?!?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!?!?!!?”

Fact: Subways ruin relationships. They’re a threat to humanity all together.

3) And finally, New York has superciliously positioned itself around 1600 miles away from Texas.

I know Stephen F. and the Duke had their arguments but I think that they could have gotten over the whole, ‘who took the last piece of bread from the bread basket?’ fight they had so long ago. I mean, I just think it’s petty of the Duke to have moved so far away just because of the garlicy goodness of the roll basket. By being this far away, there is a more likelihood that one of us will get it in their heads to walk cross country to prove our love to one another and show just how more romantic one of us is than the other.  But with our horrible direction abilities one would undoubtedly end up in the wild country with a bunch of rednecks, a pasture full of in-bred angry buffalo, or, God forbid, Ohio. All the time, the other is also walking cross country to prove their love as well and because I, I mean one of us, have awesome directional skills would show up right at his, I mean the other ones house, and see that he’s not home, proving to me that he really doesn’t love me or he would be waiting for me, knowing I would obviously walk 22 days to see him, and therefore he should be here!!! UUUGGH!

Damn you New York. Damn. You.

Whataburger

Ladies and Gents:

I am not one to continuously throw things in your face however, I will say this at the beginning of this little adventure: I am from Texas. This blog is about me not being there anymore and essentially about missing Whataburger so much. And also essentially, yes two essentials, how I am handling living in a town with more than 30,000 occupants. I live in NYC. So just a little over that mark.

I have decided to do short paragraphs. I read a lot and when I read short paragraphs I tend to read more. This is a fact. Therefore, I believe everyone else is just like me and also want to read short paragraphs, even if they don't link together in any narrative form or structure. This first post is basically just me telling you, the few of whom that may ever see this, some warnings and precautions you must take:

1. I do NOT have good grammar. I will use too many commas in some places and not enough commas in others. I basically never know when to use a comma. I basically always think and believe in my heart of hearts that a comma goes where I put it but I can never be 100% sure. I tend to throw them around too much. I once poked someone’s eye out with a comma and was grounded from comma use for three weeks. Back then, I used them anytime I took a breath in my head so for three weeks you could say I wasn't breathing correctly. No comma=no breath. If it wasn't for nature, my friends, you might have never had the chance to read this blog. Good job nature.

2. This blog will most certainly contain disdain for the city of New York. Not all the time, I will also have a lot of praise for it. But if you like New York so much that you can't bare to read any negative press it may procure in this little ditty, then I suggest looking elsewhere, maybe find a blog specifically kissing New York’s feet, symbolically of course. No one would kiss New York’s feet. It’s bound to have gross feet. I mean I have gross feet because of New York so the likelihood that its own feet are clean is an outrageous opinion and you are not allowed to have it.

3.  I love Whataburger.

4. Finally, I am fully aware that this blog is a lot like other blogs. I am fully aware other blogs have pictures. I am fully aware that I have blonde hair. I am fully aware it is not natural. I am fully aware that this is something to connect me back to home. To connect me to a world that scares the living shit out of me. And to share what I have to offer which can be summed up as humor for the whole situation. I am more than likely going to suck at this, so no worries about long term plans here people. I just wanted something to do while I sat 9 hours at a desk all day answering approximately 1 phone call per hour. And why would I actually be productive? So here I am Internet. I like you. And I think this affair we’re going to be having is going to be a. hot and b. sexy. Sexy hot internet at your service, ladies and gents. Enjoy.