The Scene Across the Street

OH DEAR SWEET LORD Y'ALL!!!
I have to post this because I just witnessed it, and it was WAY too messed up not to share with you guys. I walked out of my apartment on my way to the fancy food market to buy Hen of the Woods mushrooms, and Tibetan goji berries (you know...like you do) and right across the street from my place I saw a woman screaming at the top of her lungs, and pushing this man. She was yelling,

"I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! LET ME IN YOUR APARTMENT! I AM GOING TO SLEEP ON YOUR COUCH! I HATE YOU! LET ME IN!"

The man was cowering in the doorway, and trying to stop her from pushing him, and punching him in the chest. She threw her keys at him, and picked them up off the ground, and began hitting him with them balled up in her fist.

"I HATE YOU! LET ME IN YOUR PLACE! I AM GOING TO KILL MYSELF! LET ME IN GODDAMN IT! I HATE YOU! THEN EVERYONE WILL KNOW YOU ARE A LYING CHEATING ASSHOLE! I HATE YOU! LET ME IN!"

So naturally I did what any person would do confronted with this type of situation.

I hid behind a minivan so I could see what would happen next.
Once again, read the title kids...I've got some issues.
Seriously though, I'm kind of sick that way.
I HAVE to look at traffic accidents to see if there are bodies on the road.
Yes, I am the person responsible for all of that gridlock that you have been stuck behind on the New Jersey Turnpike.
You're welcome.

"I HATE YOU! LET ME IN! I HATE YOU! I'M TAKING OFF ALL OF MY CLOTHES! LET ME IN OR I AM TAKING OFF ALL OF MY CLOTHES! I AM GOING TO GET NAKED! I HATE YOU!"

So then take a stab at what happened next?
She started taking her clothes off.
Seriously.
The boy at this point was on his cell phone presumably trying to reach someone at Bellevue to see if they do pick-ups.
It was HORRIBLE gang.
The girl got completely naked in the 30 degree weather, and kept screaming at this guy that she hated him. That he had to let her into his apartment. That he was a liar and a cheater.

Part of me really wanted to go over there, throw a blanket over the poor girl, and tell her that she did not want to do this.

"Listen honey, I know this sucks. I know he's an asshole and that your heart is broken, and you don't know what to do. I know that you are frantic and panicking, and that nothing makes sense right now. Believe me, I have been there. But this is NOT helping you, or him, or your relationship whatever that may be. You need to go home now, and rest, and regroup. You are not thinking clearly, and that is perfectly understandable. I know you think that the pain will never get better. I know you feel like you can't live without him, like you can't breathe. But you can, and you will. I promise you. It hurts like hell right now, I know. But why give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this? You are only reinforcing a negative image of yourself, and he is the asshole here not you, right? NO MAN is worth this sweetie. Believe me, I know. You are better than this. You will be okay. You need to go home."

That's what I wanted to say.
But quite frankly the girl scared the shit out of me, and I was fairly sure that if I approached her she would have pounced on me like I was a cupcake at fat camp.

I couldn't watch anymore so I left them both to their humiliation, and I went off to buy my groceries. But I still can't stop thinking about the girl. I know her pain and her anger. I have lived through betrayal, and I know what heartbreak can do to someone's rational mind. But after witnessing that sordid scene I have to give myself some props. As bad as things got, no one ever saw me naked, and screaming in the streets of Greenpoint. Let's all be grateful for that. God bless you honey, wherever you are. I am praying for you. Hang in. You can get through this. But dear Lord please keep your clothes on.

Facebook Dating

Well thank the lord and Hallelujah I am finally feeling like my old self again friends!
And if I don't say so myself it is about damned time too. The year 2008 has so far been... shall we say... trying. I lost my man, I lost my dog, and apparently I came pretty close to losing my job as well. (How much would That have sucked! The answer is a lot... a lot, a lot, a lot.) But with the support of my family, my friends, my fans, and my God, I have managed to gather the pieces of myself back together, and to regain my focus on the present.

I have come to truly appreciate the love in my life in a way that I never did before this year. I have grown much closer to my family, discovered my true friends, and maybe most importantly I learned the kind of value that I place in myself. I settled for less than I deserved, and less than I wanted out of my life for so long that it became a bad habit, a routine of complacency. I don't take my life for granted these days, and I will never again allow myself to be sated by anything less than true and complete happiness.

Perhaps sometimes it takes a huge shake-up to remind you of all that you have to be grateful for in life. I have people around me who truly, truly love me, and who value me exactly as I am. I feel so blessed to be able to share some of that love here with you guys. I would like to send a sincere thanks out to all of you who hung in with me during the downtimes. I know it hasn't always been pretty. But I can honestly say that am back now, and I am a better, stronger person than I ever was before. I feel awakened and alive and I am ready to embark on this new beginning. I am at the start of a glorious new adventure, and I am so excited to bring all of you along with me on this amazing journey.

Now that all of this is behind me, we have EXTREMELY important matters to cover here.
So let me not waste any more of our precious space talking about the past, and let us get on with the new day at hand!

First off on the list of extremely important topics I want to cover today...
FACEBOOK
I was incredibly reluctant to join this thing in the beginning. I was pretty certain that it was a community of people half my age who knew what a Hannah Montana was. I was not interested in joining yet another online popularity contest. I had done the Friendster, I had done the MySpace, and my only rewards were offers of "awesome ring tones" and "quick ways to make cash at home". Not really a stellar marketing pitch.

But then a fan at the stage door told me that he had built me my very own fan club on this site that all the youngsters were on called Facebook. My very own fan club... for real?

Have you ever heard the old Groucho Marx adage, "I don't want to belong to any club that would have a person like me as a member"?
Yeah, well guess what?
I'm not Groucho.
The first thing I did when I got home that night was sign up for an account so I could join my club. Hey, why the hell not? I mean I am one of my most favorite people! It was a no-brainer, really. Come on! What, you wouldn't join your fan club? I never said I wasn't a narcissist kids. Read the title. I've got issues.

So the Facebook was fine. It was kind of fun. I didn't really spend much time on it. Until that is I found myself suddenly single and looking to... meet... people... men people... for meeting and discussion of current events.

Ahem.

Look guys I am not going to front with you here. I am NOWHERE near ready to begin any sort of relationship. I need lots more "me" time before that is going to happen. But dating? Well why not, right? I mean a girl has to fill her Monday nights somehow! And I am beautiful, smart, talented, kind of a narcissist, but still a pretty good catch I think.
So why the hell not, I thought! Let's try one of these nifty dating applications!

So THIS dear readers, is why the hell not.

The show I work on has a terrific youth following.
This is fantastic for concession sales, and not so great for my dating prospects.
I would say 80% of the people who are my Facebook "friends" are people who I don't actually know. Lots of show fans, and your assorted creepy internet stalkers, but mostly sweet, harmless teenagers.

So in the hope of not dying a single, old New York woman whose rotting corpse is discovered only after her dogs have eaten her face, I added one of the dating applications called "Spark". Now I'm not expecting to meet anyone super fantastic out here, but casual fun dating could be in the works, right? This is what I thought anyway when I signed on for this catastrophe.

So in this particular dating application you say "Yes" or "No" to pictures of people who are in your network of friends. This means that when "Fan A" asks me to be his friend and I accept, all of "Fan A's" friends are now in my network. So when I sign up for Spark, I get to rank "Fan A's" vast assortment of friends.

Hey Guys!
Want to feel like a huge creepy pervert?
Try this on for size!
I am thirty.
"Fan A" is let's say... fifteen.
So now I find myself alone, in my apartment, a thirty year old single woman clicking through pictures of high school sophomores, and waiting for Federal Agents and or MSNBC to kick in my door.

What the hell guys?
Nobody has a cute, rich, single Uncle out there?
I mean COME ON!

I felt like a pedophile.
I mean click after click,
"No, no, no, OH GOD NO, no, no, Ew No, no, blech! Not even when I was 15, no, seriously?, no, ugh NO!"

When you do select "yes" the application asks you why you have deemed this person click worthy, and then handily supplies you with several vapid adjectives to choose from such as "hot, cute, rich, etc." I kept wishing that we could select a reason for rejecting a candidate's photo. Something along the lines of, "Prison, prison, my mother, HIS mother, prison, Bellevue, prison, my sense of decency, etc." You get the idea.

And I demand to know which "friend" of mine knows so many freaking people in Norway! Apparently I am EXTREMELY popular overseas, especially with the Norwegians. (And I think I might be a model in Turkey.) If I get one more dating request from someone named "Svensk Oolarksttuygn" I am storming the embassy and demanding an explanation.
Either that or I am moving to Scandinavia.

So if you are in my network, cut an old lady a break, huh?
Maybe add some older folks to the mix?
I know someone out there is holding out on me!
I will find your rich uncle if it's the last thing I do!
Until then...if you see me on "To Catch a Predator" it's not my fault.
Seriously.
I'm blaming Facebook.

A Long Philosophical One Without Pictures

I haven't been here in a while. I wish that I could say that it's because I have been so happy with my fabulous life that I just haven't found the time to post. Sadly however that is a bunch of bullshit. The truth is that I have been a depressed, miserable heap of a woman for days now, and I just haven't been able to pull myself out of it.

So here I am staring at this screen again, and wondering what wisdom I could possibly have to share with the lot of you. What funny stories can I relate? What witty comments can I make? How can I entertain? I mean that's what I do after all isn't it..."entertain". Everyone can always count on Frances to be the crack-up of the room, the life of the party. But truthfully guys, these days I just don't seem to have it in me. Rather than cracking everybody up, I just feel cracked. And there's not much humor to be found in that.

It has been a sad, sorry couple of weeks for me. I have had frequent sometimes intentional contact with the Ex, and that has brought me nothing but an unending internal monologue of "What Ifs", and "If Onlys". I have been stuck in time, replaying each moment over and over again, seeking answers to questions that will never be resolved. The mind is a devilish trickster. If you let it destroy you it will, and my mind has been working endlessly to bring me to a point of madness. The loop that plays goes something like this.

How could I allow myself to be so betrayed and so degraded? How could I trust someone so completely and be so horribly wrong? How could a man who I thought possessed value and integrity use and abuse me so heinously? I paid his rent when he was unemployed. I took him by the hand to see my doctor when his anxiety began to control him. When he sobbed and begged me not to leave him last year I promised not to. We would work everything out together. I would continue to pay all of the bills, and he would go to see the therapist like he promised. I would stand by him because I knew, I KNEW, that he would do the same for me. And after all of it, after the promises of love, and children and marriage, he left. One night he was beside me, and the next night he was gone, and he never came back. He never tried, he never explained, he never fought. He ran away like a frightened little boy. And the man that I thought I knew and loved was gone forever. He said he would never replace me. And he did.

It's an awful place, the prison of one's mind. It is so difficult to find a way back from the past. So what I ask you now friends, is what a woman like me is supposed to do? Do I admit defeat? Shall I just call it a day? Perhaps let someone else have my cushy Broadway job, and spend the rest of my days sobbing on my couch in the fetal position? Shall I say "Goodnight Gracie", and head off into the wings for that one final time?

The answer that I have come to dear friends, is a resounding,
"HELL'S NO!"

After weeks of sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I have decided to once again commence living the life I have been so fortunately blessed with. I absolutely, unequivocally refuse to allow the actions of one weak, selfish, cowardly man to determine my self-worth. I am done letting the past haunt me. What's done is done, and there is no potion in this world potent enough that were I to drink it down I could turn back the hands of time. And truth be told, as much as I have missed this man, as much as I have longed for his touch, I would not take the bullet I have dodged for any money in the world.

I believe in God my friends. No scratch that, I KNOW that there is a God. Don't panic. I'm not about to get all religious on you. The fact is that I am extremely anti organized religion. But spirituality is another matter entirely. My Ex was an Atheist. Since our break-up I have discovered a faith which I never knew could dwell within me. My higher power has proved to me again and again not only the power of its existence, but that its love and and its mercy are without limit. All I have to do is believe and trust in the love that God has for me, and I will be provided with everything that I could ever need. I have seen this displayed to me time and time again. And yesterday was a perfect example.

I met with my friend and mentor Courtney. We meet once a week to discuss philosophy, God, all of life's wonders and mysteries, and Brangelina. (Okay the last one not really but I am trying to lighten this entry up a bit for you guys so just bear with me.) I was telling Courtney how I just couldn't stop obsessing about my Ex and about our break-up. I knew that I was better than this. My logical mind couldn't justify what was happening to me. I was tired of being a woman stuck in the past, and I felt that my future was too bright and too glorious to let it escape me for even one more day. I was sick of marking off the days on my calender on which I had managed to avoid picking up the phone and reaching out to this man who was so far beneath any measure of what I deserved or wanted in my life, only to break down, contact him, and then have to begin the cycle all over again at day one.

So Courtney suggested that I offer it up to my higher power. "Why not relinquish it? Admit that you are out of control and ask for help. Say in your prayer, 'God, I am powerless over contacting this man. I am powerless over these obsessive thoughts. Only through you can I be set free. I pray that you will relieve me of this burden. Thank you God for your grace and your love.' Just offer it up and put it in God's hands."

Earlier that same day I had found myself wandering around the Whole Body in Chelsea. They have a tiny little book section with titles on health, healing, and (my favorite!) more self-help. I stumbled upon a volume called, The Power of Now a Guide to Spiritual Enlightenment by Eckhart Tolle. Apparently this book was a #1 New York Times bestseller and had sold over 2 million copies, yet I had never heard of it. I added it to my purchases, and didn't think much of it until last night when I curled up in bed with Jasper to read for a bit.

They say the Lord works in mysterious ways. My God never ceases to astound me with the ways in which he injects his wisdom into my life. Chapter One of the book is called "You are not Your Mind" and in that chapter I stumbled upon this.

"...I would say about 80 to 90 percent of most people's thinking is not only repetitive and useless, but because of its dysfunctional and often negative nature, much of it is also harmful...This kind of compulsive thinking is actually an addiction. You no longer feel you have the choice to stop. It seems stronger than you. It also gives you a false sense of pleasure, pleasure that invariably turns into pain...

As you grow up, you form a mental image of who you are, based on your personal and cultural conditioning. We may call this phantom self the ego...To the ego, the present moment hardly exists. Only past and future are considered important. This total reversal of the truth accounts for the fact that in the ego mode the mind is so dysfunctional. It is always concerned with keeping the past alive, because without it - who are you?...The present moment holds the key to liberation. But you cannot find the present moment as long as you ARE your mind."

Alright I realize that is some pretty heavy stuff, but hang in there guys because I think it may just have saved my life. There is only one moment, and that moment is now. There is only one place and that place is here. Everything else is an illusion playing with our minds.

I can let go of the past. I can stop projecting towards a future that will never be. I don't have to allow any of these thoughts to control me, and indeed in allowing my mind to dwell in this space, I am driving myself further and further away from living a truly enlightened existence.

Stop.
Stop right where you are.
Take a deep breath and then slowly exhale.
Where are you?
You are here.
What time is it?
It is now.
Nothing else is real.
Nothing else is true.
But being here, in the present, right NOW, this is our only truth.
And right now, there is no where else that I ever want to be.

America Needs Something to Wash Away the Poo

Sweet merciful Christ do I suck at this daily blogging!
I have once again been away for too long my friends, and I do apologize to all of my regular readers. I was on in the big show several times this week, which of course I love, but which was also time that I thought was going to be available for writing.
Then I got distracted by our governor's ho bagging scandal, had a couple of dates, and that basically killed the beginning of the week for me.
But fear not my friends, I am here! And I have returned to you with many new adventures to share, and more obnoxious drivel to douse you with.
So here is what is pissing me off this week:

1) SpitzerGate. For those of you not in the know, our governor here in the great state of New York, Eliot Spitz-on-His-wife-n-kids has been caught in a massive scandal of high end prostitution. FUN! Apparently Eliot felt it necessary to spend upwards of $80,000 on whores over the past several years. Now here's the thing y'all. I don't have a problem with hookers. Some of my closest friends have been hookers (true story.) But $80,000 Eliot? For real? I don't know what kind of creepy shit you have to be into to spend that kind of dough. But my bet is that he dresses up as a "My Little Pony" and has girls feed him oats while they brush his sparkly purple mane and he neighs in delight. I'm thinking it's a bald guy thing. It's just a theory, but I'm telling you if they find a long purple wig in his office, then I am a fucking God.

2) Speaking of Gods the number two thing pissing me off today is Scientology. This anger stems from this awesome cartoon series that I recently discovered called Y.A.A.F.M. which stands for "You are all Fucking Morons." The series skewers various topics ranging from 50 Cent to the afore mentioned "religion" Scientology. It breaks down the fundamental beliefs of this "religion" to demonstrate that even a six year old with Down's syndrome would not be stupid enough to buy into this crap. Do you guys actually know the dogma of Scientology? Yeah, neither did I. Watch this video and let the cartoons lay it out for you. As far as I can tell they make a hell of a lot more sense than anything L. Ron Hubbard ever said or wrote. http://www.zipperfish.com/toons/yaafm/yaafm-11-scientology/
The link is for this particular episode, but I would also HIGHLY recommend that you take a look at the episode on Muslims. I would post that link here too, but I love my family, and I really want to live.

3) Numero Tres! A friend pointed this out to me recently, and it made me so angry that I actually threw up in my mouth a little. Werner Herzog is a wonderful filmmaker, and among his many theatrical triumphs is a fantastic 2005 documentary titled Grizzly Man. This is a brutal film documenting the life and death of Timothy Treadwell, a man who chose to spend his life living, and (surprise, surprise) eventually dying amongst the wild grizzly bears of the Alaskan Wilderness. At the release party for the film Werner's wife Lena made a statement to the San Francisco Chronicle regarding the "Disneyfication" of nature programming.

"Werner's beautiful, formidable Siberian wife, describes an agreement made a few years ago between television's two nature giants -- National Geographic and the Discovery Channel: When showing animals mating, show no more than three thrusts. 'Three! ' Lena cries, incensed. 'Now they are censoring the animals! And,' she continues, in the hushed tones of a spy, 'in the last year we noticed the thrusts have been reduced to one. One thrust!'"

So the animals can't even have sex now? Jesus Herschel Christ people, are we fucking serious? We can't even watch animals mate on nature programs without having to feel bad about it now? I don't know about you guys, but nary a day goes by when I am not watching Nature on PBS and furiously masturbating. What is nature supposed to be dirty... perverted? Anyone believe I am going to run out and commit a sex crime because the sight of two Rhinos humping on NGC just blew my fucking mind? I suppose the morons who made these decisions were thinking of the children. "We can't allow children to see gazelles going at it! Then they will know that baby gazelles don't sprout up from Jesus seeds!" Seriously people, this is some of the stupidest shit I have ever heard. But hold your horses in an appropriate place kids, because we are about to get even stupider.

4)Okay truthfully, this happened last year but I am still pissed off about it. See that uptight looking guy on the right? That is Pastor Neil Rhodes of the Times Square Church on 51st Street. Apparently Pastor Neil is ashamed of his pooper. Or else he just wants the rest of us to be ashamed of ours. See last year this bidet company Washlet bought the billboard space around the corner from Pastor Neil's House of worship and waffles, and they had the audacity, the unmitigated gall, to place photos of people's naked buttocks on their advertisement.
I'M TALKING NAKED BOTTOMS HERE PEOPLE!
ACTUAL HUMAN BUTTS!
DEAR SWEET JESUS HAVE MERCY!
So Pastor Neil being a sensible man albeit one seemingly born without an ass deemed that this just would not stand, and promptly went to the courts demanding an injunction be placed against Washlet, and their perverted bum washing ways.
And you know the really awesome thing guys?
He won.
He fucking won.
How cool is that?
Pastor Neil rocks!
He saved us all from the mortal sin of looking at a picture of someone's rear!
Jesus be praised!
Did I mention that the Times Square Church is directly across the street from a strip club? We're talking about an ad for a bidet company people.
They don't rent hookers, they don't pay for abortions, they wash hineys.
Dear God...the horror.
So our city courts spent another day making our tax dollars count, and the sinful butts were covered. After all guys if there is one thing that the bible has taught us it is that Jesus didn't have an ass, and he definitely did not poop. (I think it's in there somewhere towards the back.) Pooping is for sinners and Mormons. That's why they wear the magic underwear. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsXzHLiHTOU
These are just facts people. If you can't handle the truth, then I've got nothing for you. Until next time kids, let's all keep it clean. Peace!

A Few of My Favorite Things

Fair warning guys, this post is going to infringe on several major copyright laws.
If the Feds come knocking at your door after clicking on the links I have posted then I don't know you and I cannot provide bail money.
Are we clear?
It is my hope however that you will risk being sent up the river, and click away on what I am presenting below.
I am about to share with you are some of my favorite comics, and the things that make me squeal like a gay boy.
Couldn't we all use a good laugh these days?
Excellent! Let's get started!

PATTON OSWALT is a genius. He is my favorite stand-up comic, and his two comedy albums, Feelin' Kinda Patton and Werewolves and Lollipops, have reduced me to tears even after repeated listening. I HIGHLY recommend that you purchase these titles and then sit back, relax, and prepare to urinate on yourself. Patton is just that funny. You may know him from The King of Queens or as the voice of the main rat in Rattatouile. But stand-up is in my opinion where Patton really shines. Listen to the "Best Week Ever" section first. It destroyed me.
Oh, and P.S. If any of these links don't work just copy and paste them. I have no idea how to actually do anything on a computer so I am winging all this.

http://www.last.fm/music/Patton+Oswalt

RICH HALL is a comic who I had the pleasure of seeing at a club in London. He often performs under a different persona named Otis Lee Crenshaw. Otis is a tough southern country singer, and his songs kill me every single time. Rich is another comic who I adore. We hung out for a while after his set, and he gave me some great advice about stand-up which I promptly forgot after the drinks he plied me with. My point here is that he is not only hilarious, but after hitting on me, I can vouch for his excellent taste in women. Check him out.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=GXia60dgHnE

EDDIE IZZARD is a comic, a writer, an actor, a transvestite, and a freaking genius. If you have never seen Eddie's BRILLIANT stand-up special stop reading stupid blogs and go buy yourself a copy. I LOVE this entire performance, but am including just a few highlights below. I hope you enjoy him as much as I do, and if you don't then you just have problems.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=6omQ5JjjLsE&feature=related
http://youtube.com/watch?v=DiFq_nk8pE0&feature=related

THE FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS is a comic duo from New Zealand made up of Bret Mckenzie and Jemaine Clement. By some miracle of executive genius HBO decided to give these guys their own show, and if you missed any of these episodes I would encourage you to view them A.S.A.P. Between their manager Murray and Mel their number one fan this show proved to be one of the freshest most innovative series to hit television in a long time. Don't believe me? Then take it from the Rhymenocerous.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=FArZxLj6DLk&feature=related

RUSHMORE is my all-time favorite movie comedy. It is in my opinion Wes Anderson's finest film. IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN RUSHMORE...well I don't even know how to finish that sentence. Just get Rushmore okay? If not for me than for all of mankind. Bill Murray should have been knighted for his work in this film. I know that he's not British but the Queen should have made a goddamn exception okay? That's how freaking great he is! I have included a little snippet below that is known as the revenge montage. I also have to recommend to you guys the soundtrack of awesome 70's rock songs by The Kinks, The Who, John Lennon and many others. Actually come to think of it, all of Wes Anderson's movies have bitchin soundtracks. Just a little heads up for your next iTunes shopping binge.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=yly2UDQp6fc

So I hope you guys enjoyed this little tour of some of my favorite things in the world of entertainment. I would love to hear what my readers are into as well. If you have something that you think will rock my world please send it along. Until the next post, Peace y'all!

Get Some Therapy

My therapist tried to break up with me today.
This makes two break-ups in two months for me gang.
I'm beginning to think that there might be something deeper going on here.
Perhaps I am secreting some sort of reverse pheromone that instantly repels anyone within ten feet. If any of you at the stage door get the urge to suddenly flee when you see me coming please let me know. My doctor may have some sort of cream or ointment he could prescribe.

Anyway today my therapist (and YES I am in therapy so you can all save the comments telling me to go.) has not been pleased with my attendance record lately. I have been skipping out on sessions frequently. And I think the reason for this should be fairly obvious to all of my regular readers. Clearly I am now well-balanced, emotionally stable, and no longer in need of psychological aid.


Ahem.


Anyone buy that?
Yeah, I didn't think so.

The hard truth is that sometimes it's just scary for ME to show up and face ME. I am one of those people who believes that everyone could use a little therapy. I mean can you think of any problems in the world that could be made worse by discussing them?
One of the reasons why I like Obama so much is that he (gasp!) said that he would be willing to meet with the leaders of North Korea and Iran. I love that conservatives were upset by this! Because we all know that the easiest way to solve a problem is to not talk about it. HELLO!

So I go to therapy, when I actually go, to check in with myself.
And to tell you the truth that's been really tough for me to do lately.

I have a friend, another actor who said to me recently, "I've always been really good at being funny, but not so good at being me." A better epithet for my tombstone I have yet to find.

Good actors are great liars, wonderful storytellers, and terrible realists.

I could give you Nina from The Seagull one minute: broken, lost, proud, tormented. And then a minute later Nora from A Doll's House: anxious, doting, awakened, defiant. But ask me to play Frances...and that's when I start to run into problems.

Sanford Meisner said, "Acting is the ability to live truthfully under imaginary circumstances."
This has always been my favorite definition of what I do for a living. If there is no truth on stage or on screen then there is no art. Nothing is more painful to me than bad acting...NOTHING! I can't even get enjoyment out of watching good old-fashioned American porn! I can't get past the wooden line readings delivered by the failed models and aspiring graduates. The Detective (Well CLEARLY, since he's wearing a trench coat and a fedora!) blankly staring at the bimbo femme fatale, and uttering some monotone drivel like, "I may...have to...initiate...a...DEEP...investigation...into...this case...sweetheart."

Horror show people.

I've gotten more turned on watching NOVA.

What real actors do, or what we hope to do if we are getting it right, is to make the audience feel that there is no acting going on at all. That what you are seeing is happening in this moment and only in this moment. "Aye there's the rub!"

When you watch The Godfather you shouldn't be spending your time thinking about Marlon Brando, and whether or not he stuffed his cheeks with cotton to look that way. If Brando did his job (And man did he ever!) you are fully immersed in the world of Don Corleone. Brando is gone and all you can think about is whether the Don is going to send Luca Brazzi to sleep with the fishes. The actor disappears and all you are left with is the character, and the circumstances that surround him in the world that has been created.

When you bring truth to what is in reality fiction you can create entire worlds of possibility. Suddenly we can be in 19th century Russia on a country estate, or just as easily in a Norwegian Parlor with Torvald and Nora. Or we can be excruciatingly bored watching incompetent performers stumble their way through time and space.

It drives me insane when I hear some idiot like Nicole Richie say that they have suddenly decided to pursue acting; As if it were just some lark you could take up one day like needlepoint, or in Nicole's case, motherhood.

I have always been an actor. It is what I knew that I was going to do even before I was aware that I had any talent. I am very fortunate in that way; that I always knew what I was meant to do.

The problem for me friends came when I had to stop acting. I know that might sound ridiculous to some of you, and I want to assure you all that I have not been diagnosed with a multiple personality disorder...yet. But when you spend your life pretending to be other people, it's not always so easy to figure out who you are.

And that is why I will continue to see my therapist. So I can get to the bottom of Frances. I think however that I may need to start showing up for all of my appointments from now on. Because as of late, I feel like there might be a lot left inside of me yet to discover.

My Hometown

Many of you have written to me and told me how much you enjoy reading my blog.
And I thank all of you for stopping by and reading and leaving your comments.

Many have also remarked that I am "funny" and or "very funny".
To them I say, "Why yes, yes I am. Thank you so much for noticing."
But I wasn't born funny. I was born blotchy, jaundiced and bald.
Actually I suppose that is sort of funny.
I was NOT a cute baby kids.
My poor dear mother taped ribbons to the side of my head until I was four.
"SHE is a GIRL!" was a phrase repeatedly yelled to strangers who were prone to remark on my "handsomeness."
But anyway, I digress.

The "funny" didn't begin to flourish in me until some years later when the other kids at school chose me as their token object of ridicule.
In retrospect I suppose I was a fairly obvious choice.

I grew up in Haddonfield, New Jersey, a suburb of Philadelphia but also a place that seemed to exist beneath a glass dome of protection/isolation. Haddonfield was one of those lily white places where people have sprinklers on their lawns and indifference in their hearts.

Our town had a historic society which was run by terrifying blue-haired women who could make Catholic nuns tremble in fear.
These women had D.A.R. cards and they were not afraid to use them.
In school everyone's mother drove a Range Rover and all the kids had their initials monogrammed onto their L.L. Bean backpacks.
The girls of my era wore penny loafers, and then keds, and then docksiders with boat knots, and then whatever Lisa Madden switched it too the next week.
Their sweaters were from J. Crew.
They went on ski vacations to Killington.
Their mother's wore slacks and turtlenecks.
Their father's had affairs with other mothers and played golf.
My father's favorite hobbies were listening to NPR and napping,
often at the same time.

I was different.
My family was different.
None of us really ever fit in with the "Townies" as we called them.

I can recall my mother one year sending me to a "Holiday Cookie Exchange Party" with a box of Entenmann's Chocolate Chip Cookies that we grabbed at the 7-11 on the way.
"No recipe card needed!" I joked to Kelly's mother attempting to lighten the dark look that glared down on me from atop her Rudolph Christmas sweater.
It was neither the first, nor the last disappointed head shake I was to receive from a Haddonfield Soccer mom.

My home town is only six miles from Camden, New Jersey, which was named the most dangerous city in the nation in both 2004 and 2005.
Camden is one of, if not the worst ghetto in the country, and standing in the middle of Haddonfield's downtown colonial shopping district you would never, ever know that you were that close to so much suffering.

These people shopped at Talbot's.
They stenciled pineapple borders on their living room walls.
They were on the mailing list for the J. Peterman Catalog.
They voted for Reagan...twice.
The place was pure fucking evil, and needless to say I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there.

So my backpack had no monogram, my sweaters were not from J.Crew, and no one saw my family in Stone Harbor during the summer.
My backpack came from Clover damn it and I was proud of it.
This may be impossible for some of you younger folks out there to imagine, but there was a time when there used to exist other stores aside from Wal-Mart, K-Mart and Target.
And Clover was one of these stores.
You could buy shoes, a Trapper Keeper, a Gem and the Holograms lunch box, and even get an Icee and a soft pretzel on your way out the door.
We didn't have Starbucks.
We didn't want Starbucks.
We had Icee's and they came in two flavors, blue and red and if you didn't like it well then you were just un-American.

So me and my Clover shoes and Strawbridges' sweaters became the kid that got tortured in junior high.
And that's how I eventually got "funny".
When the teasing first started happening I responded by hiding in the library during lunch time, and eating my ham and cheese sandwich among the racks of National Geographic and Highlights.
Then eventually, slowly, I started to figure things out.
I had a weapon that I could use to fend off these cretins.
I was funny.
I was pretty god damned funny!
Every class needs a funny kid, right?
And if I could be the "funny girl" then maybe the other kids wouldn't put gum in my hair and call me "Butterball". (I still hate those Turkeys.)
Instead of fighting back or trying to befriend these morons I would make them laugh.
The fools! Laugh I say! Bwa Ha ha ha ha ha!!!

So that's what I did.
And wouldn't you know it...it freaking worked.
It's kind of difficult to keep mocking a girl when she's laying out killer material to a packed crowd by the monkey bars.
And since most of the children were too stupid, or just not drunk enough yet to heckle me, I managed to survive junior high with a shred of self-respect still intact.

And I don't care who knows it, I still miss Clover.
Icees are awesome.
And monogrammed backpacks are for losers.
So there.

Oh How the Mighty Have Fallen and Thank God

Today I am posting a picture of me to begin our happy little blog entry. There I am on the left looking pensive and possibly mentally challenged.
Have you ever felt like a sheep?
How about a jerk?
Have you ever felt like a Class A jerk?
Well it's actually official for me now gang.
I ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, am a huge, bona fide jerk.

I got confirmation of that last night from my Higher Power.
Or perhaps God just wanted me to snap out of the sorry state that I have been sulking in for the past two months. No matter, last night served as quite the wake up call for me, and I will be eternally grateful for the experience. So allow me to clue you in on the story.

After my last vicious blog post where I mercilessly tore into the woman (formerly known as MICHELLE) who is now dating my ex-boyfriend I received some phone calls.
And I received some texts,
and a couple of emails.
And all of these correspondences came from Michelle herself.

Allow me at this moment to take a time out here to post a picture of myself as a baby. This way you all can get a clearer idea of who you you are dealing with today.
Okay everyone got that image in their head?
Terrific let's move on shall we?

I know what you are thinking, and believe me I thought it too.
Why would I want to talk to this hateful person michelle?
Didn't she ruin my life?
Didn't she wreck my relationship and tear my family apart?
Isn't she some sort of evil cross between a bigfoot and a warlock?
I was disgusted, and angry and upset. I cried, and I cried, and then I cried some more.
And then I received the pictures that she sent me of her and my ex kissing.

And then I ran to the bathroom and threw up my dinner.

It's been a really rough couple of months guys.

I immediately texted the ex looking for support, for backup, "Do you know what she's doing? Can you make her leave me alone? Why would I want to talk to her? She is sending me pictures of the two of you? I took that photo of her down! Will you make her stop?!"

She texted me back from his phone and told me that not only did he know exactly what she was doing but that he had given her his phone with which to call me.
Then he sent me an email saying that I deserved whatever treatment I received now and that all the memories he had of us were ruined and we would no longer speak.

Then I ran to the bathroom and threw up again.

And that's when I determined that I might need some help.

I deleted the pictures from my email, and I sat down on my couch and I began to pray.
I am not a Christian.
But I do believe in a higher power.
And so I asked for guidance from that power.
What should I do?
Please help me God.
Tell me what path you want me to take.
Please help me to not have these feelings anymore.
Please take this pain away.
Please let me heal from all of this.
And then I reached for the phone.

I called the Ex's number knowing that she would answer.
And she did.
It was michelle.
And she had a voice.
She was real.
She was a human being not the monster that I had painted in my mind.
At first it was difficult.
She was angry, hurt, upset.
I was defensive, bitter, and betrayed.
We bickered back and forth.
She kept saying that I didn't know her.
How dare I write such horrible things about someone I didn't know.
I accused her of being a tramp and of breaking up a two year relationship.
We went back and forth like this for a while, talking over each other and getting nowhere.

And then something miraculous happened.
I don't know how or when but suddenly something in the tone of our conversation shifted.
And all at once I felt horribly, unabashedly ashamed.

Who had I become?
Was this the kind of person who I wanted to be?
The type of woman who slanders and abases people just to bolster their own shallow sense of self worth?

I remembered my favorite all time quote by Ghandi,
"We must BE the change we wish to see in the world."

Did I want to be a person who encouraged cruelty and maliciousness?
Someone who fed off of the humiliation and defamation of others?
Or did I long to strive for something greater?
Didn't I want to be a person who others admired,
not because of my looks, or my talents, or any of the superficial facets of my life,
but because of my character...because of my integrity?
Didn't I believe in the power of that quote?
And if I did, then what kind of "change" was I now displaying to the world?

We ended up talking for almost an hour.
I took down all of the blog posts that referenced her in any sort of cruel manner.
She wasn't a horrible woman.
And she certainly wasn't my enemy.
My relationship ended because it was time for it to end.
And my fear of being alone, of being lonely, is what kept me clinging to a partnership which hadn't been working for a long time.

Michelle wasn't the bogeyman.
She wasn't a "possessed witch haunting the black air." (that reference is for you Michelle:)
She didn't "steal" anything from me.
In fact she was kind.
She was understanding.
She was empathetic.
Her heart had been broken years before in a much more traumatic fashion.
And she understood my pain.
She never intended to be the cause of any of it.
She knew that my vitriol was a mere manifestation of my anger at my own failures.
Michelle didn't ruin my relationship.
My ex and I did that all on our own.
And my anger towards him, and towards myself, had nothing to do with her.

Wow.

It's been an exhausting emotional twenty-four hours kids.
Since our talk last night Michelle and I have exchanged several emails and IM's.
I warned her about some "Ex issues" that she might want to look out for.

(Incidentally we got along so well that I think the Ex might regret pairing us together. I am a wealth of Ex inside information, and you know how two Italian girls like to talk!)

She helped to talk me down last night when I was reliving all of the initial pain of our breakup. It's a lot easier to believe that your lover left you for a monster than it is to find out that he left you for a great and benevolent woman.
So last night I had to feel all of that pain again, and I found that I could hardly breathe because of it.
And Michelle helped me.
She calmed me.
She understood.
Even after I had called her terrible names like a twelve year-old.
She understood.
And she forgave me.
That's the kind of person who I want to be;
Forgiving, loving, understanding and kind.
We both fell in love with the same man.
And I don't pretend that everything is going to be easy from here on out.
But I do know that I feel a little better about myself and about the place I occupy in the world today.

And on that note, I would like to leave you all with my senior class portrait.
(A fairly accurate likeness depicted on the right.)
Thanks everyone for sticking by this mean witch even during the rougher days.
Have a happy Tuesday everybody!
And GO OBAMA!!!