Frances Has Issues

Blogger Bites

2011-08-05T21:17:00.003-04:00

This blogger design is really starting to tick me off. I am having trouble posting videos and links and all of the fun internet garbage that I know you have come to expect from me. So I am moving on over to Tumblr. If you have enjoyed these ravings then please come visit me at http://franceshasissues.tumblr.com/ If you have not enjoyed this then let's never speak of it again.

Michele Bachmann Blows Way More Than Carbon Dioxide

2011-07-14T21:20:00.003-04:00

So I am through with dating. That's it. Done, over, hasta la vista jack offs. After my most recent evening with a man who, in what I can only assume was a misguided attempt at affection, grabbed my right breast and squeezed it like an air traffic controller palming a stress ball, I have decided to take a much needed break from the dating world. So here I am back to doing what I do best. Complaining. You're welcome.

Tops on my list of complaints this week: Rep Michele Bachmann of Minnesota, or as I like to call her, Lake Wobegon Barbie. Sweet merciful Christ this woman sucks out loud. When Sarah Palin came along I thought that we had reached Defcon 5 on our scale of criminally stupid cheerleaders masquerading as public officials. But Michele Bachmann makes Sarah Palin look like Stephen fucking Hawking. Don't believe me? Check out this little wisdom McNugget that Bachmann recently bestowed upon us:

"Carbon Dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn't even one study that can be produced that shows that Carbon Dioxide is a harmful gas."

I'll give you a moment to let that one seep in. Much in the same way that excess Carbon Dioxide could seep into your bloodstream and kill you. Here's another personal favorite:

"Normalization (of gayness) through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is take a picture of 'The Lion King' for instance, and a teacher might say, 'Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?' The message is: I am better at what I do. Because I am gay."

Okay, first off I think it's rude to just out Sir Tim Rice like that. And secondly, for serious? So part of the gay agenda is to convince children that butt sex will make them better musicians? Michele's logic train seems to have stalled while boarding passengers at the station. If gay sex made you better at your chosen profession than Clay Aiken would be the next Sinatra. This woman needs to seriously get a grip. I just pray that when she does it doesn't grab a hold of the American public.

Dating in NYC or It Puts the Lotion in the Basket

2011-06-29T21:28:00.005-04:00

I have a great life. I have a beautiful apartment, a blessed career, supportive friends and family, and a dog with the bladder control of an Iron Man triathlete. What I don't have is a good old fashioned boyfriend. You know, the kind that holds your hand during scary movies, and dances with you at your friend's weddings, and makes you chicken soup when you are sick. I haven't had one of those in ages. And the last one that I had was a vegetarian who made me Annie's No Chicken Noodle Soup when I had a cold, which if you ask me is just total fucking bullshit, and quite frankly a warning sign that I should have heeded. But that was ages ago now and lately I am finding dating to be a bit of a chore. And I already have a lot of chores.

The problem is that when you work six days a week in the theatre it's tough to find the time to get the laundry done, let alone embark on a meaningful relationship with another human being. (As a sidebar if anyone wants to swing by Park Slope and drop my laundry off at the Fluff and Fold that would be tremendous.) So I find myself turning where many a jaded time pressed woman in her thirties has turned. I am fully immersed in the world of online dating, and let me tell you kids, it is not a pleasant affair. It's like shopping for a weeks' worth of groceries at the Duane Reade. I am seeking sustenance and all I am finding are Easy Mac and Mini Ritz. And I do mean "Mini" here people. It's not pretty out there.

Now look, I don't mean to imply that I am such a great catch, but I think that I am better than Duane Reade level snack foods. I may not be Whole Foods, but I am at the very least Trader Joe's, maybe even Fairway on my better days. And yet this is what I am being offered in the online world. Allow me to offer you a few choice quotes from some of my more eloquent suitors.

This is from LovePa a charming gentleman from Long Island City who had this to offer:

"About myself ,There lot to say about me but there is never enough to say about your self,but I am a very nice guy,quite I dont know what else say ,may be later on."

Well said LovePa. I think that sums things up nicely for me.

Sometimes I just look at the profile pictures to get a sense of people. Here is one of my recent favorites.Not bad, right? If you look closely you can see the woman he keeps in the pit in his basement reflected in his glasses.

Way up at the top of my enemies list is this 28 year old Rhodes scholar from Jersey City who made his openness and availability abundantly clear when he said,

"i dont discriminate ever anyone n everyone feel free to bother the shit outta me on here.. suckas... omg this shit has spell check? geez."

If only his fellow site members had been so observant. Under the category heading of Favorite Books he has listed "not so much on the readin.." Gee, you don't say.

And thus the journey continues. I will keep on keeping on in the hopes that someday my love will ease my sniffles by bringing me a box of tissues and a bowl of soup. And as God is my witness if there is tempeh in that soup there will be fucking hell to pay.

So That Happened

2011-06-25T20:38:00.005-04:00

Hey guys and gals! Remember that time that I made that big to do about relaunching my blog back in 2010? Yeah, me neither. Let's move past that shall we? Here we are half way through 2011 and I have been extremely busy not doing any writing. In the interim I have managed to kill several plants, eat my weight in Trader Joe's Honey Wheat Pretzels, and get myself into a new Broadway show. So you know, I've accomplished at least one more item on my bucket list, plus I got into another Broadway show. It's been a good year.

So here I am happily ensconced in my dressing room at The Music Box Theatre for the next couple of months. It's been lovely up until ten minutes ago when I was bitten in the ovary by a horse. Let me back up. I wandered down the stairs onto 45th street during the intermission to do my nightly wave across the street to Chris Rock. (We have a thing going. In my mind. It's complicated.) So there I am doing my best casual lean against the street lamp when a mounted NYPD officer wanders up with her beautiful brown mare. She ties him to the post next to me. I think nothing of it. That is until the horse casually leans in and takes a bite out of my uterus.

"Excuse me mam! Could you please not touch the horse!"
"Um, I didn't. It just bit me."
"Well can you not STAND there?"
"Uh, I work here. Sorry I..."

At this point I waver as I come to realize the searing pain coursing through my midsection. Naturally she is all apologies and offers to find me first aid.

HA! Just kidding. She basically gives me a look that reads, "Idiot standing in the way of my psychotic horsie's mouth," and then ignores me as she moves on to trading riot stories with her fellow mounted GED candidates.

So that was a whole heap of fun. I stumbled into my stage manager's office and very dramatically retrieved an ice pack for myself from the freezer. I can now cross "Get bitten by horse" off of the bucket list so really that's two whole things that I have accomplished so far this year. All that plus my imaginary relationship with Chris Rock and this might turn out to be my most productive year to date. Doubtless I will be seeing this image in my dreams for the next several weeks. Yeah. Horses are total assholes.

A New Year and a Resolution to Make No Resolutions

2010-12-18T23:09:00.000-05:00

I am not doing this again. It is not happening. I absolutely refuse to make another New Year's resolution. Every fucking year I make these inane pledges to myself and every fucking year I bail on them faster than Eddie Murphy bailed on Scary Spice.

Every January 1, I promise to:
A) Lose 10, 20, 147 pounds, (whatever the magic number is that year.)

B) Land that one BIG job. The be-all end-all buy my parents a house in Florida so I can stop visiting them in New Jersey job.

C) Develop a lasting meaningful relationship with Prince Charming, and begin construction on the nursery wing of the castle.
and

D) Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week.

By President's Day it is likely that the neighbors have found me chest deep in bakery boxes with a complexion whiter than Cindy McCain's vagina. It's not a pretty picture folks. And it's not happening this year.

The solution to my no resolution resolution is this. I am going to completely commit myself to what I do best. I am going to make with the funny. Stand-up, blogging, xtranormal movie making, shouting on the subway, I am going to hit the laugh track on all fronts. There are a few of you out there, most of whom are direct blood relations, but a few of you still who have told me time and time again that you like my stuff and that you want to see more of it. Unfortunately these last couple of years I have been really busy smoking weed, consuming carbohydrates and watching Bravo. The Real Housewives franchise alone has been a major commitment of both time and energy. But I digress.

I am putting down the remote and the rolling papers and I am going to focus on me. Me, me, me. It is after all what we artistic types do best. So stay tuned for more humorous observations and witty anecdotes. 2011 is going to rock!

Live Blogging the Oscars 2010

2010-03-07T19:01:00.000-05:00

I'm back bitches! Pour yourself something potent and bang a goddamn gong because Frances has finally returned to bring meaning to your shallow hopeless lives. Woohoo! It is SO your lucky day.

Live Blogging the Oscars 2010

2010-03-07T18:47:00.000-05:00

The Oscars 2010

There's No Place Like Home!

2009-02-26T20:20:00.000-05:00

I am proposing a new holiday.
As a child of the 80's I was raised on sitcoms and Crystal Pepsi, and one of the great TV shows of the era was 227. It wasn't well written nor for that matter was it filled with great actors. What it did have however was a kick ass theme song sung by Marla Gibbs, and the total awesomeness that is Jackée Harry as Sandra Clark. I tuned in just to watch Jackée say, "Maaary," every week. My friend Steven and I have a tradition of singing the entire 227 theme song beginning to end whenever we pass a house with the address number. It never gets old.
Tomorrow is 2/27. In honor of the day I suggest you wear your sassiest ensemble complete with football sized shoulder pads, and giant 80's earrings, and spend the day talking smack on the stoop with the neighbors. I also recommend singing the theme song at every conceivable opportunity and using the phrase, "Maaary," to express everything from glee to disdain.
Happy 227 everyone!!!

The First Month of Club $405

2009-02-26T17:46:00.000-05:00

Unemployment is one sick, twisted bitch. On the one hand you get to do all of those things that you couldn't do as a decent productive member of society, like watch The Real Housewives of Orange County for seven hours straight while color coding your pantry, or re-organize your bookshelves by author's year of death. On the downside you can quite quickly drive yourself halfway to the turnip farm by doing nothing but said repetitive, obsessive tasks. A man needs an ambition, a goal, a purpose other than assuring that kidney beans are stored alongside pinto so as not to disrupt the flow of mauve.

Being an actor is all about ups and downs. The work is there and then suddenly it's not. One day you are eating bagels sent from Sutton Foster, and the next you are counting quarters to scrounge up an egg and cheese from the deli. I had an extremely fortunate run where I did not have to ask anyone if they wanted fries or salad with their burger for three years. As a performer in New York that's pretty much as good as it gets.

I asked a friend the other night about his catering gig, and if it was decent, and if so could he get me in, and he gave me this incredulous look as if I had just asked him if he could score me smack. "But you were on Broadway?" He said looking at me with the pity usually reserved for those sleeping at the Port Authority Sbarro.

Oh sweet lord and baby Jesus.
Seriously kids?
Is this how it is going to be from now on?
If tragedy of all tragedies I somehow never work on Broadway again am I going to be looked on as that woman who once had something grand, and then never rose above it? A South Jersey Blanche DuBois past her glory, long since forgotten by those who once adored her?
Oh please.
It may be summer stock in Branson but I will get another gig. How many people luck into a show that wins eight Tony awards? It's kind of an impossible act to follow. I will wait tables if I have to. Buddah knows I have done it before. I will eat Ramen noodles, and forego my daily espresso. I will once again live like the starving artist I once was as opposed to the Broadway actress I got to be. And hopefully someday soon I will get the chance to play the Great White Way again. Because in all honesty people Ramen noodles are just shit.

2009-02-22T22:41:00.001-05:00

2009 Oscars Live

Montage Number 74!

2009-02-22T22:17:00.000-05:00

SO BORED...I've lost count of montages. This one is supposed to wake me up I guess because it is all actioney. Things are exploding and it sounds like Brett Michaels or someone who rocks equally hard is singing. Speaking of Brett I hope y'all are watching Rock of Love Bus on VH1 because I am loving every lice infested moment of it. DJ Lady tribe alone was worth tuning in for. If you don't know who I am talking about youtube NOW.
Will Smith is constantly finding new and innovative ways to bore me. Like now for instance...still boring. How does he do it? Such charisma!

Best Supporting Actor

2009-02-22T22:07:00.000-05:00

WALKEN!!! YES! Let's get this party started! I don't know what is going on with his hair but it's Christopher fucking Walken and he rules so it doesn't matter. Ok the black knit cap on Phillip Seymour Hoffman really makes him look like a pretentious fop. Who let him do that? Josh Brolin is so awesome. Could Diane Lane be more beautiful? The answer is no. Oh god the Heath Ledger family shot is so sad. This is going to be rough. How very sad.

Beyonce, Hugh, Zach, Vanessa, My Eyes!

2009-02-22T22:02:00.000-05:00

I would post about the salute to the movie musical with Beyonce.
I really would.
Unfortunately I just put a crowbar through my TV and dug my eyes out with my thumbs.
So I'll get back to you.
Burn in hell Baz Luhrmann

Montage Number 3!

2009-02-22T21:27:00.000-05:00

Which appears to be a montage consisting of random moments from movies throughout the year. Fascinating. And Twilight boy couldn't shave his faux-goat for the fucking Oscars? Seriously? So now it is 9:30pm Eastern and we are nowhere near the halfway point. AWESOME. Ben Stiller is wearing a Joaquin beard which makes me instantly happy. Plus Natalie Portman's dress is the color of Chicklets. Bonus!
Oh good...another dry Englishman delivering an acceptance speech.
It's like watching a mustard stain slowly dehydrate.
Coleman's Mustard.

BRIT BRIT BRIT BRIT

2009-02-22T21:19:00.000-05:00

AAAAHHHH!! TOO MANY BRITISH!! This isn't the BAFTAS people Jesus. Look I love the Brits. LOVE. I'm one of the biggest Anglophiles out there. I want to move to London and drink tea and make out with football hooligans I really truly do. But can't these guys cut loose a little? These speeches are death. I've heard curling commentary that was more interesting than these Oscar speeches and that's played with brooms. WITH BROOMS PEOPLE!!! This is why the Oscars need drinks at the seats. I'm thinking these blokes would be a lot livelier a few pints in.

Tilda

2009-02-22T21:15:00.000-05:00

I'm not making it up dude. She's like the Sahara.

Montage Number 2!

2009-02-22T21:05:00.000-05:00

An animation montage of the animated movies of 2008? Uh...ok. Honestly producers this shit isn't long enough? What's next a montage of best explosions of the year?
Thanking the high school drama teacher?...Yeah I am sooooo not doing that. My drama teacher was a grade A hose beast who told me I wasn't a good enough actress to be the lead in the musical. Well who's laughing now Mrs. Lavecchia?! HA! (That's me. I'm laughing.)
"Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto," from the Japanese winner of Animated Short Subject. Best acceptance speech line thus far.

Screenplay

2009-02-22T20:53:00.000-05:00

Oh how I love Tina Fey and Steve Martin! And a Scientology dig? They may have just made my evening worthwhile. Where is the Tom Cruise money shot when you need it? Although not sure if Cruisazy and the lil missus made it to the big show tonight. Milk was a wonderful film so I am happy to see it win for Original Screenplay. Wow. What a fantastic speech. I am speechless. Just awesome. How inspiring for all of those struggling for acceptance and equality.
Slumdog I've got nothing. I know, I know I've heard it's great. But God the Brits are dry. Jump up and down! Get excited! Go crazy! It's the Oscars for God's sake. Step on Spielberg's head and throw a Sally Field like crying fit! Sweet lord this is going to be a long night.

Best Supporting Actress

2009-02-22T20:40:00.000-05:00

Meryl Streep=Steroids.
He's not the first to say it. Won't be the last.
And now the Kodak theater crew guys can't figure out how to open a curtain for the first of 14 montages of the evening. Should be a quick broadcast kids. No one has work tomorrow right? Ok love me some Tilda Swinton but here is the thing. When you are pale as ass in January perhaps "Beiger than Beige" is not your best choice for a color. She looks like a sand dune.
I actually like the leopard on Whoopi. It's her and she is working it. Goldie Hawn's dress starts at her sternum...her 65 year old sternum.
Penelope Cruz!
No surprise there. She looks lovely which is sort of like saying that headcheese is disgusting...it just always is. You figure she is one of those women who just wakes up with birds flitting around her bed waiting to bring her slippers and a robe. She probably sings to them in Spanish than brushes her hair 100 times.

Opening Number

2009-02-22T20:31:00.000-05:00

It's opening number time kids!
We're in Hugh Jackman's capable hands but Bruce Villanch...I like the homemade sets idea. Very nice. Anne Hathaway with the high note ladies and gentlemen!
Ok Hugh needs to keep his shit together.
Stop cracking up Hugh.
Yes, I am the only person in the world who did not see The Dark Knight. And I lied before, I saw Milk. I'm 1 movie for 53. Ok the techno/Dieter dance for "I didn't see The Reader" was hilarious.

Live Blogging the Oscars from a Completely Unimformed Perspective!!!

2009-02-22T20:22:00.000-05:00

I have seen none of these movies.
None.
Zip.
Zilch.
Nada.
But I shall blog anyway because I must.
I can't tell you who deserves to win, but I will anyway. I can't tell you who the nominees are because I'm not Entertainment Weekly. I suggest you hit up their site if you are interested. I will however fill you with witty blurbs and obnoxious commentary about who looks like a rubber plant and who is dating their nanny. So tune in if you are so inclined! I will try to keep up with the whip fast pace of the broadcast! And we're off!

Mommy's Little Man

2009-01-09T19:46:00.000-05:00

Almost a year ago to this day exactly the cozy little Brooklyn unit I had created crumbled faster than an alcoholic's resolve at Oktoberfest. I was dumped hard, and I was dumped fast, and left behind with me was the puppy I had added to the clan two months prior; the puppy I had named Jasper.

As I stumbled through the early stages of grief Jasper was there to comfort me in my darkest periods of woe, and by "woe" I mean sing-sobbing Alanis's Jagged Little Pill album, professionally eating carbohydrates, and possibly devoting a blog to slandering my Ex, and his new "cunt-tacular" girlfriend...but then again my memory of that period is a little hazy. Jasper became the innocent, canine victim of this total meltdown I was managing to inflict on myself. I was lonely, and depressed, and bursting with gluten. So I made poor, sweet Jasper, "my man."

"Mommy's little man."

Yes, I am aware of how fucking creepy that sounds.

I realized I definitely had a problem when I was watching The Dog Whisperer. Caesar was doing his initial consultation, and he always asks the same question. What's the first thing that you do when you wake up in the morning? Is it go for a walk? Is it give a treat? Is it give praise?

Twenty minute make out session.
Sometimes we go longer, but it's always twenty minutes minimum.

I'm not really sure what Caesar would do with that information, but I'm pretty sure he would take away my dog. Look I'm not saying there is tongue. Although, yes there is definitely at least some tongue involved. We enjoy the stretch, the leisurely slow rise. Sometimes we talk about the day ahead. Some mornings it's just cuddling.

Yes, I am entirely guilty of anthropomorphizing my dog. (For all of you youngsters out there who have yet to take the SAT's you are going to need to know that one.) Yes, I have taken full advantage of his fluffy love over the past year, and shall likely continue to do so. Yes, I talk to him as if he understands me even in public on the street which P.S. has proved an AWESOME way to attract the opposite sex. Nothing reels in the men like a lady chatting up a dog in a cable-knit. So Jasper doesn't respond to me verbally, so what? He gives me plenty of love, and he is always happy to see me despite my worst moods, and neediest hours. Plus I have a fairly good idea of what Jasper would say if he could. This week I think these are the phrases that would have topped his list:

*Is that really what you're planning on wearing?
*I just think you've had enough that's all.
*You seriously still haven't done the laundry?
*It's not the color I would have chosen, but they're not my walls.
*Wait...are you eating chicken?
*So then explain the Rick Warren pick if he's your great messiah of change? Where's your messiah now, eh?

Healing the Masses

2008-10-23T23:49:00.000-04:00

So there has been great demand out there calling for something hilarious to cut the bitter pill we have all been forced to swallow today. So here is my feeble attempt kids.
Yes this blows.
Yes we are all upset.
We won't get to see Gerard and Blake jump around in their little Prussian pantsuits anymore. Emma's haunting "Blue Wind" will only live in our memories.
And most importantly I will not be getting paid.
But let's try to keep things in perspective here and look on the bright side. We have three more months of fun, frolic and abortions left to go at the Eugene O'Neill. There are lots of shows left to perform, maybe even a few where a certain actress may feel under the weather and a certain other actress may have to step in and play the role as she has to do from time to time...ahem...My point is that no one has died (except Moritz, and Wendla BUNCHES of times) so there is no need to torture your parents with excessive sobbing. I promise you that life will go on. This show will always hold a special place in your heart just like Kirk Cameron will always be a super hottie to me even though now he is a crazy fundamentalist born again freak show. (Seriously Google Kirk Cameron. It's some scary fucking shit.)
You'll have new passions. You'll sing new songs. Some of you will discover new things like daylight and human contact. Whole worlds are going to open up for you now.
There will be other shows for you to love. There will be other bands that you cherish. Some actors you will always remember (like me) and some you will forget (Drew Tyler what?). But someday in the future the pain will ease. Look I KNOWS me some pain kids. I had my heart handed to me still beating and bleeding in the beginning of this year as many of you loyal readers know. Pain is not something that you can just kill with two Tylenol PM and three shots of bourbon. After six or seven attempts I figured that out. It takes time. It sucks, it sucks, it sucks, and it takes time. Bourbon helps a little. My best advice? Enjoy the show. Cherish this time. Be grateful that we all got to share in something really magical. And don't eat any foods that are artificially orange colored. God never intended for Cheetos to happen. It's just one of man's many failings.

2008-10-07T22:40:00.001-04:00

Thanks for following along guys.
Hope you are all now very drunk.
I need to analyze to death this thing along with all of the talking heads.
Until next time friends!

2008-10-07T22:25:00.001-04:00

Terry served in the Navy.
The question is on Israel.
Florida is on the line.
The elderly Jews are leaning into the TV.
The second holocaust talk is grating. I'm sorry but it is.
Africans are being raped and killed en masse as we speak and we could give a fuck because they don't have espresso bars and museums in the Congo.
YES! Barack advocates talking to people!
Even our enemies! Even people we don't like!
What a novel fucking concept!
Most of us learned this idea in kindergarten.
Aw...Michelle is pretty.
I hope they don't show Cindy up that close.
Her wonk Vicodin eyes give me nightmares.

2008-10-07T22:08:00.000-04:00

Pakistan...touchy subject.
McCain has decided to talk about TEDDY ROOSEVELT?
Yeah that completely doesn't make you look as old as Montgomery Burns John.
McCain is completely flat lining on CNN's Uncommitted Ohio Voters Meter.
Again Barack comes out with "Bomb, Bomb, Bomb Iran" which is a nice hit to land.
Uh oh.
McCain is sucking down the water like his wooden dentures have dried out.
Grandpa is looking tired.
Oh boy a Putin question!
McCain says no Cold War part II.
Why exactly does Barack need to apologize for being wrong about the surge when he was RIGHT ABOUT NOT FUCKING GOING INTO IRAQ!!!
McCain is wishy washy on whether Russia is evil or not because he wants their oil.
That's sweet.

2008-10-07T21:57:00.001-04:00

Amen Barack! Making healthcare sound sweet and easy. That's how it should be.
You can tell the people in the audience are average Americans because they look fat and miserable.
I'm thinking about moving to Sweden.
They have healthcare there.
P.S. Where did they find all of these black people willing to go on TV and say that they haven't decided yet if they are going to vote for the first black president? I would be afraid to go home again for fear that my friends would all be hiding in my house waiting to kick the shit out of me.
But that's probably just because I have really good friends.
Diminished respect is what Obama is talking about and again linking Bush and McCain together.
Their foreign policy turned our country into a nation of distrust, and led directly to the world's inaction in Darfur. Other nations would not support our efforts because they no longer listen to us or see us as responsible leaders.

2008-10-07T21:48:00.000-04:00

"That one!" McCain pointed at Obama and said "That one."
I didn't like it.
Lindsey asking about healthcare as a commodity.
What is McCain doing in the background? Some sort of hand signal to someone off camera.
He sort of cupped his hand around his chest.
Maybe he has heartburn?
Oh sweet Lord please don't be dying.
I don't trust America not to be stupid enough to put Palin into office on a wave of sympathy.
No one excluded for pre-existing conditions in Obama's healthcare proposal.
Here's the thing.
My father is seven years younger than McCain, and he looks about 25 years younger.
Plus he wears much less makeup.
Hanoi Hilton time is hard time.
This guy DOES not have 8 years. I don't think he has 4. Call me a pessimist.

2008-10-07T21:40:00.000-04:00

McCain's idea to fix Medicare=A table full of smart people.
Okay.
Ingrid asking about the environment! And McCain doesn't know her name!
"Thank you...uh.."
Joe Lieberman is McCain's tough partner on the environment!?
Okay look if you're burning Eminem cd's or looking for a good matzoh meal than Lieberman is your man, but environmental legislation? Are you kidding me?
McCain voted 23 times against alternative fuels Obama points out.
DRILL! drink
Brokaw is getting downright testy about timekeeping.

2008-10-07T21:33:00.000-04:00

Tom Brokaw looks like he needs a drink.
Too bad he's not playing with us.
Ugh. Again with the McCain and the "he wants to raise taxes" rant.
McCain said "Obama has a secret,"
and Obama leaned in with a smile on his face like
"Really? I have a secret mother fucker? What's my secret?"
9:39 BROKAW THROWS DOWN!!!
Seriously the rules of this debate are 31 pages long.
That what he means when he says, "No you can't respond." Because your people are asshole and have driven us all insane.
95% of you will get a tax cut on Obama's plan.
Did everyone get that?

2008-10-07T21:28:00.000-04:00

Fiorra in Chicago asks a good question.
War bonds? Nylon stockings? What do we have to do?
EARMARKS!!! drink
McCain ONLY wants to spend on defense. So no education? No healthcare?
A spending freeze on everything else?
McCain is rolling with the rhetoric.
Uh oh...Obama is going all 9/11 on us...careful...don't pull a Rudi...
Ok we're safe.
DRILL! drink
Nice! Save energy in your homes! Personal responsibility! I like it!
Volunteering! The Peace Corps! Obama brings hope to the masses!
Let's hold hands and sing!

2008-10-07T21:21:00.000-04:00

EARMARKS! drink
EARMARKS! drink
DRILL! drink
Healthcare, Energy, and Social Security...which first and McCain says...All of em!
Hey that's what Sarah said when Katie asked her what kind of magazines she reads.
TERRORIST! drink
Ooo this is a good question! Brokaw loves to party!
Barack...Energy first. Amen. Bad for national security and bad for our economy. 15 billion over ten years to free us from our dependence on foreign oil.
Healthcare two and EDUCATION three so that Oliver can learn how to read a sentence.
EARMARKS! drink

2008-10-07T21:15:00.000-04:00

Fannie May was a candy store in my home town.
They sold delicious chocolates.
If I had known they were going to ruin our country I would have shopped elsewhere.
McCain is left handed. I just noticed.
I don't know if that means anything but his tie is creepy.
And he's not wearing a tie pin so who's unpatriotic now? Huh?
I really wish that for the next debate they both came out dressed as giant flag pins so everyone could just shut the fuck up about it already.
BUSH! Thanks for mentioning Captain Disaster Obama!
HELLO! McCain has been a consistent REFORMER! Another one left out of the drinking game.
Damn you guys are sober.

2008-10-07T21:10:00.000-04:00

Ok Obama needs to STOP saying McCain is right about anything.
Even if McCain says, "Pudding is good,"
Obama needs to come back with, "No. Pudding is shit. It's poison."
Okay my first problem with the question from Oliver is that grammatically it was a nightmare.
Could we teach children to read and speak properly?
Could a candidate talk about that please?
I like Obama's tie. Violet...almost periwinkle.
FOX news will probably call him gay tomorrow.

Part One...

2008-10-07T20:59:00.000-04:00

McCain talking about energy independence?
WHAT?
That was his opening line. There's a new tactic.
Holy God. McCain's makeup looks like it was put on by a mortician.
What did they use spackle?
Wow. McCain is looking at Obama this time. That's a nice change of pace. He definitely seems more at home in this format. This is where he is supposed to thrive and you can tell he likes to work the room like this.
DAMN IT! I forgot to put CRONY(ISM) on the drinking list.
Sorry guys.

The Town Hall Debate Pre Show

2008-10-07T19:30:00.000-04:00

Tonight is the town hall style debate between our two presidential candidates Old Man McSame and Barack "Hope of the Universe" Obama. This is throwdown time for McCain. His campaign has taken a truly ugly turn this past week attempting to smear Obama by linking him with William Ayers with whom Obama served on a Chicago board of educational reform in the mid 1990's. Ayers was the infamous leader of the radical leftist group The Weather Underground which terrorized the nation with bombings and violent protests in the 1960's and 70's. Criminal charges against him were dropped in 1980, and he currently holds the title of Distinguished Professor at the University of Illinois at Chicago. According to the Associated Press, they are not close: “No evidence shows they were “pals” or even close when they worked on community boards years ago …” The acts Ayers perpetrated, which Obama publicly denounced, were committed 40 years ago...when Obama was 8. This is a truly desperate hail mary attempt by the McCain campaign to hurl mud at Obama any which way that they can and I wouldn't be surprised if it didn't splash back their way.

It's like this. I did a show once with Michael C.Hall. I was an understudy, he played the lead. We ran for a few months. We talked as work associates backstage. We never went out for drinks or hung around outside of work (although man would I have liked to. WOOF!) When the show ended our association ended. Nice working with you, all the best. He now plays a serial killer on a show called Dexter. According to the GOP logic I fully support and endorse serial killers. My best friends are serial killers, and I won't be happy until serial killers kill you, your children, and everyone you love. All because I did a play with Michael C. Hall.

I'm beginning to think the GOP are magik. Not magic like magicians, but magik like witches and fairies and elves! They made John Kerry a purple heart recieving war hero look like a draft dodging coward compared to...well, a draft dodging coward. They can make Sarah Palin see Russia from her house! Now she can name all the tzars by heart and in order! They can even turn an eight year old Barack Obama into a terrorist! That is some kool-aid they are drinking over at Karl Rove's house. Which brings me to the most important part of tonight's debate. The drinking game! Here are the rules kids. Good luck!

MAVERICK take a shot
FREEDOM take a shot
HOPE take a shot
TERROR/ take a shot
TERRORIST(S)
GREED take a shot
SPENDING take a shot
EARMARKS take a shot
DRILL take a shot

That should get everyone completely destroyed by my count.
Let the games begin!

2008-10-02T23:35:00.000-04:00

Well I think Biden pretty much nailed it.
He was cordial, confident and charming.
Unlike old man McSame he never seemed smug or condescending to the lesser experienced Palin. He was bold in his declarations and clear in his statements.
Palin was a carefully presented package of the same rhetoric and talking points.
We've had eight years of talking points.
Bush's disapproval rating is now at 70%. That's the lowest of any president in American history, lower than Hoover during the Great Depression, lower even than Nixon during the height of the Watergate scandal. I would ask what more could Bush do to fuck up the country before he leaves office but frankly I am terrified of what he could come up with. At the very least I am sure he will manage to get drunk, piss in the Rose garden and set it on fire.
Biden did his job tonight and did it well. Sarah Palin was a woman clearly out of her league. Two more Presidential debates to go. 32 days left...

2008-10-02T22:16:00.000-04:00

Quoting Reagan...
Nausea increasing...
Urge to kill rising...
10:22 MAVERICK!!!!!!10:23 MAVERICK!!!!
Holy god people are going to be wasted!
And finally Biden is going to call them on this Maverick bullshit!
Nice. Biden just nailed her to the ground. 10:25
10 to 1 Palin has no idea who Judge Bork is.

2008-10-02T22:03:00.000-04:00

Oh dear me! It's just so obvious that I'm an outsider! I'm just a silly little girl from Alaska! What do I know about you big Washington boys and your big silly politics? Americans want a straight talker and I'm not a politician!
When she plays coy I feel like I may never stop vomiting.
Gwen just asked the most terrifying question of the night.
What would happen if McCain kicked it and left us with President Moose Panties.
"MAVERICKS!" Take 2 shots!
She just said "doggone it".
Seriously...please help me.
She's sending shout out's.
The woman is sending shout out's.
She thinks she's on TRL.

2008-10-02T21:53:00.000-04:00

9:56 MAVERICK! EVERYONE DRINKS!
Did she honestly just say that John McCain is KNOWN for reaching across partisan lines?
Um...like this past week?
When he was known for flying to Washington and fucking everything up for both parties?
"We're securing democracy and building schools in Afghanistan!"
I would give up next weeks paycheck if Gwen Ifill just stopped everything right there and said, "Governor Palin would you please spell Afghanistan?"
10:00 you can hear Biden audibly sighing into the microphone. The man has been a senator for three decades and he is reduced to debating a beauty queen.
We're sighing for you Joe.

2008-10-02T21:46:00.000-04:00

Oh sweet Lord this poor woman.
She's talking about Israel now.
She was talking with Katie Couric about her lesbian friend.
I wonder when we get to meet her Jewish friend.
Are there any Jews in Alaska?
Do you think they gave Palin a knish when she came to NYC and prayed that she would learn through osmosis? "Here Sarah eat this. Now listen to this recording of 'Fiddler on the Roof'".
"Diplomacy is hard work by serious people." Sarah Palin October 2, 2008
Wow.
Take note kids.
That's sure to grace the pages of future history texts for generations to come.

2008-10-02T21:36:00.000-04:00

I think it's so sweet that Palin is going to let dying gay people visit their partners.
She is such a sweet lipsticked pittbull!
"um..."
I'm hearing a lot of "um's" and I am LOVING it.

2008-10-02T21:23:00.000-04:00

And here come the platitudes!
"Putting government back on the side of the American people."
What does the even mean?
"John McCain's call for reform?" I think Biden's head might explode.
"Drill baby Drill"
I want to hit her in the mouth.

2008-10-02T21:17:00.000-04:00

Gwen Ifill is ON her shit!
No Lehrer capitulation here.
Sarah Palin smiles and grins like she is explaining the goods for sale at the PTA bake sale.
YES!!!
BIDEN!!!!
Landed "the ultimate bridge to nowhere" at 9:21 and there is your soundbite!

2008-10-02T21:06:00.000-04:00

9:09 "maverick" Everybody take a shot!
She just said "darn right." We can't have a Vice President who says "darn right."
Ned Flanders would make a shitty Vice President.
9:13 "darn right" AGAIN.
Just picture it.
"Darn right we are cheesed off!"
That's going to get right to the heart of the terrorists.

2008-10-02T21:04:00.000-04:00

"Can I call you Joe?"
Oh Lord.
I need to be drinking.
9:05 first mention of "soccer" and first use of "betcha"

Live Blogging the VP Debate the Pre-Show

2008-10-02T20:11:00.000-04:00

Honestly I'm terrified.
I have seriously been a nervous wreck all day.
If Biden fucks this up tonight I may just have to drive to Delaware and light the whole damned state on fire. These last few weeks of watching McCain implode have been so tremendously fulfilling. Each new morning has been like Easter, and I have eagerly raced to my laptop each day to see what chocolately egg Grandpa McSame has left for me in the night.
The Couric interviews have been especially delicious.
Discovering that Sarah Palin enjoys reading "all of them" when asked to name some specific sources of media which she references on a regular basis was a moment that I truly cherished.
So tonight all Biden has to do is not be smug, not be condescending, and allow her to trip all over herself. Then Obama can be president and we can go about fixing the disaster that this past eight years has wreaked on the world entire.

Match.com...the saga continues...

2008-08-06T21:39:00.000-04:00

HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD AND ALL THE SAINTS AND BUDDHA TOO. I didn't realize there were so many sad, insane, terrifying men out there with internet access and $39.95 a month to blow. I was only going to post one of these Match.com posts. I thought that one solid round of tearing down the poor lonely men who were unfortunate enough to initiate contact with me was plenty good enough. But like rats in a rainstorm the Craizins seriously came out to play this past week. And open book that I am, I felt like I just could not in good conscience keep you loyal readers from revelling in the horror that is my attempt at a love life. So keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle kids. This is going to get real ugly real fast.

First on the list we have UCTAZZ.
TAZZ is 45 but creepily enough is only interested in dating women between 18-35. He is 6'6", lives in Shit-Nowhere Virginia, is currently separated, and is quite clearly a serial killer. Actually I was kind of shocked at how little effort TAZZ put into hiding this from the female population. All the signs are there plain as day. Do you see the doll collection in the background? Obviously used to lure children into his gingerbread house. The guy even has a terrarium for God's sake with two lizards who seem quite healthy from their daily diet of lettuce and prom queen blood. I can practically hear the moths flying around his house.
He seems almost proud of his obvious predilection for wearing the skins of his previous dates. Right from the get we have TAZZ's terrifying header which reads,

"HI, DO YOU WONT TO CUDDLE"

No.
No I don't "WONT TO CUDDLE".
Not ever.
Not, ever, ever, ever.
Not even a little bit.

In TAZZ's "About Me and Who I am Looking For" section he really lays it all out on the line to separate the bitches from the hos.

"I LIKE TO WORK ON CARS SO THEY WOULD HAVE TO BE OK WITH THAT. IM GOING TO OPEN MY OWN PLACE SOON, SO THEY NEED TO KNOW THAT UP FRONT."

BITCHES DID Y'ALL HEAR WHAT TAZZ JUST SAID? Ain't nobody gonna get in the way of my dreams! I'm gonna build cars in my own damn shop, and I ain't gonna answer to nobody, nowhere, no time, no more! And I sure in hell ain't gonna listen to no goddamn woman! Now get me another beer bitch!

TAZZ goes on to talk about the many fascinating aspects of his personality. His favorite color: blue, favorite genre of music: rock, and favorite place to shop: Walmart. Quite frankly TAZZ and I have so much in common that I was surprised he didn't track me down sooner. I also enjoy the color blue.

TAZZ included a close up of his body art in case you had any doubt left that a date with him would end in your slow and violent death. Oddly enough TAZZ did not include any photos of the basement pit where he plans to house his new bride. I guess some surprises are best saved for the honeymoon.

Next on our list of eligible bachelors we have KENROUTE6969.
Oh my god!
"6969"!
I totally get it! That is so naughty! Wow what subtlety, what nuance! What a saucy little devil KEN is!
Why didn't he just make his screen name,
"MELIKEADAORAL2" or "BALLS4URFACE"? Clearly KEN is setting his aim high.

He follows the same profile logic as our friend TAZZ above. The theory being that if you PUT EVERYTHING IN CAPITAL LETTERS PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE YOU ARE SINCERE AND WON'T CARE THAT YOU READ AT A FOURTH GRADE LEVEL AND SPELL THE WORD "SWIM" WITH 2 M'S. I don't know how well this idea works but it is quite a popular strategy on Match. As if font size were the big problem here. Yeah, that must be what's keeping all the ladies from emailing.

KEN describes himself as a "SEXY CHOLATE (I think that is supposed to say Chocolate) BALD BROTHER. ABOUT 5'9" ABOUT 200LBS. IN MARTIAL ARTS 3RD DEGREE BROWN BELT. LOVE TO COOK ,LIKE WORKOUT.GOOD SEX, EXCELLENT KISSER WITH SOFT LIPS, LIKE SEXY FEETS LOVE TO SUCK ON TOES."

Anyone still keeping their lunch down out there?
Yeah, me neither.
KEN lists his last book read as, "IT BEEN SO LONG I CANT TELL U."
Oh please KEN...please...do tell.

Bachelor number three is the 5o year old Raouf who hails from Alexandria, Egypt and describes himself as "about 47 years old." You have to have sympathy for a man too stupid to realize that entering one's birthday into their profile automatically calculates one's age. Raouf then proceeds to lie in his description and tell the world he is "about 47".
And how the hell would you be "about 47" anyway? What your mother laid you on a bed of reeds and set you floating down the Nile about 47 years ago? Perhaps the hieroglyphics on the papyrus were too faint to decipher.

Raouf further describes himself as, "i'm a pharoooo aren't i?"
And everyone all together now...No.

Raouf also says that he is a volleyball champion in his country.
This is indeed excellent news for our Olympic team in Beijing.
I'm thinking we take Egypt in straight sets.

LEXUS007CAKE is just the kind of profile that makes me weep for the current state of our educational system.

"HONESTY LOVING CARING HAVE SENSE OF HUMOR SOMEONE WHO APPERICATE WHO U ARE BUT NOT U HAVE AND SOMEONE WHO COMPLET MY OTHER SIDE AND SOMEONE WHO HAVE THE NEEDS AND QULATIES AND WHO HAVE A GOOD HEAD ON THEIR SHOULDER"

He lists his last book read as SEX CHRONICLE 2 and I don't know about you readers but I found it far inferior to the tour de force that was SEX CHRONICLE 1. I really hope that volume 3 improves on the series.

Well this has been enlightening and unbelievably depressing. I'm off to take a bath with my friend Mr. Toaster. Until next time kids.

Match.com...and so it begins...

2008-07-30T19:30:00.000-04:00

This is Shaharyan.
He is one of the many nice men who have written to me since last week when I joined Match.com.
Shaharyan is 44 years old, the divorced father of more than 3 children, and he lives in Kuwait.
In his own words Shaharyan is,

"LOOKING FOR NICE LADY SHARE MY LIFE AND LOVE AND I AM SEXY MAN AND KNOW HOW I CARE LADY AND I LIKE TO BE WITH MY NICE LADY ALL MY LIFE IN NICE LIFE ."

The title of Shaharyan's post reads,

"LIKE TO HAVE NICE LAY IN MY LIFE."

Wouldn't we all my friend? Wouldn't we all?

This is Rock Guy.
Doesn't he look sweet?
Rock Guy sent me a wink on Match because he was smitten with my profile.
I was so flattered! What a mensch!
So I checked out his page and indeed he looked like a really nice guy.
Rock Guy is a musician, a gemini, a vegetarian, and a witch.
Yup, that's right...a witch.
You know like brooms and cauldrons and I live in my Mom's Garage and D&D rocks?
Rock Guy ends his post by saying, "Freaky Chicks Welcome! LOL!"
Somehow I don't think attracting freaks is going to be a problem.

Radiogeek611 is 47 years old but he is only seeking women between the ages of 25 and 40.
I mean come on!
The guy has way too much to offer to give it away to some old hag of 45!
Radiogeek611 had two pictures that were both so appealing that I really couldn't decide which one to post.
So here I am presenting you with both in the hopes that you can help me to narrow this field down a little bit.
God, I feel like The Bachelorette at the Rose Ceremony!
How ever do I choose?!

And this brings me to my absolute favorite prospect thus far.
This is Hotcake555 and if you take one glance at his passport picture here I am sure that you will agree no other screen name could have done this man justice.
Hotcake555 is 54 years old, still married, has 3 children, and lives in Western Australia.
No worries though mates.
Hotcake makes almost $25,000 a year!
That seems like more than enough dough to buy the kids some tetanus shots, and fly new mommy to the outback in style!

Can I take a moment here to ask you guys some serious questions?
Is there some sort of growth protruding out the back of my head that none of you have alerted me to as of yet?
Do I have a persistent odor of street meat that lingers around my being?
If you put me in a tent in the town square, do you think people would pay a nickel to stare at me and point me with sticks?

Yes I have joined Match.com.
Yes things have gotten that bad, thanks for asking.
The last guy I met in a bar turned out to be an Orthodox Jewish father of four who "wasn't quite divorced yet."
Here's the deal kids.
I have all of my teeth.
I don't have leprosy.
There are no kids in my house, just the world's greatest dog.
Oh, and I'm a kick ass Broadway actress who just happens to be sexy, funny, smart, and modest.
Should this really be so difficult?
I am not renewing my passport just so I can go on a first date.
Fortunately Radiogeek611 lives in Maryland.
Hope springs eternal.
I'll keep you posted.

Just a Broadway Baby

2008-07-21T01:08:00.001-04:00

My show is undergoing a major overhaul. Beginning Monday the entire original cast except for myself and two others will be gone. It's weird but also really exciting. I am looking forward to seeing the show infused with some fresh blood, and I am really happy for all of my old castmates who doubtless have wonderful career milestones ahead of them.

It's strange this world that I live in. When I was a child I always dreamt of performing on Broadway. The first Broadway show I ever went to see was Gypsy starring the amazing Tyne Daly. I was completely hooked. I became obsessed with all things Broadway, and in particular the show Aspects of Love by Andrew Lloyd Weber. I would sneak my Walkman into class and hide it under my clothes, spending the entire biology period lost in the "View of the Pyrenees."

I had it all planned out. I was going to move to New York and room with my best friend ala Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey in Beaches. (P.S. If you have never seen Beaches then we are not friends.) We would eat Chinese food out of takeout containers, and drink coffee from those blue Greek coffee cups. Then on one of my many Broadway auditions I would meet Michael Ball and he would instantly fall madly in love with me. We would marry by the boathouse in Central Park, and then Michael would serenade me with "Love Changes Everything" while rowing me across the lake. So at least trust me on this point ladies and gentlemen... I can empathize with your John Groff fantasies. I have been there.

My life didn't turn out exactly as I planned. Starbucks pretty much killed the NY coffee cup of the 80's, and I am fairly certain that Michael Ball LOVES Beaches if you know what I am saying. Still I made it to Broadway. I do wish that I got to perform more often. Being an understudy is sort of like winning the silver at the Olympics. Yeah, you made it to the big race and you did pretty well, but no one is putting you on a box of Wheaties anytime soon. Jesus I am showing my age here. Do they even make Wheaties anymore? Whatever, you get the idea. But no complaints. I am well aware of how many actors would leap at the chance to trade places with me, and I am exceedingly thankful for the job that I have. So keep your headshots at home kids. I'm not going anywhere yet.

I never wanted to become an actor so that I could be famous. Back when I was a kid before everyone could go online and compare signature collages of their favorite celebs, only die hard theatre geeks really knew who these people were. Geeks like me. That picture above is Times Square in 1989 the year that Gypsy with Tyne Daly opened on Broadway and the occasion of my very first trip to the Big Apple. That one below is Times Square now almost twenty years later. Broadway theatre was taken back from the criminals and the degenerates and turned into the degenerate criminal enterprise that it is today.
I kid! I kid! Don't fire me!
Not all of it is degenerate, although the ticket prices are what many would call "criminal".
But with Broadway firmly ensconced as a huge moneymaking industry the art of the stage took a backseat to putting butts in the seats.

Look I'm not naive. The theatre is an industry just like any other. It's a capitalist enterprise. But where it once seemed that parts on the stage were given to those actors who were the most deserving, or perhaps the most accommodating if we are to believe the tales of the "casting couches", now it seems that any one with even the faintest whiff of name recognition is given the advantage bar none, and talent or merit be damned. Hence we have arrived in the present era where exists the bus ad I passed today advertising,
"Spamalot now featuring Steven Collins from Seventh Heaven and Drew Lachey from Dancing With the Stars!"

"Good gravy Helen! Real celebrities from the picture tube! Well that makes it a must-see!"

Pandering to the lowest common denominator has become business as usual for Broadway. Steven Collins and Drew Lachey may well be excellent choices for Spamalot. I don't know them or their abilities, and I do not mean them any disrespect professionally. But the attempt to bolster ticket sales by parading out every Tom, Joe and Jane who ever scrubbed in on an episode of Grey's has gotten a little ridiculous. It feels like we are just minutes away from these marquees,

"The Flavor of Love girls as the Merry Mistresses of Murderers Row!"

"Supernanny is the original Mary Poppins!"

"The third runner up from The Bachelor is TEVYE!"

I fear for the future of the American theatre my friends.

Who's Hungry?

2008-07-17T15:18:00.001-04:00

Well crap.
Crap, crap, crap.
I wish I could give you all some really amazing excuse for my absence from these pages.
It would be awesome if I could say that I was sold into white slavery in Chinatown, or that I was hit over the head and woke up in Guantanamo.
Plus that would make for some really juicy blog material.
But the truth is that I have no such yarn to weave friends. I've just been lazy about sharing my fantastic adventures with the free world and for that I do apologize. I will make a concerted effort to rant here more often.
I went on an amazing retreat over my birthday in June, and after that I sort of felt the need to keep on retreating. I spent time with friends, hung out with my dog, and with myself, and just did a lot of letting go and a lot of just "being". It's harder to do than it sounds, trust me. But I guess it was time away that I needed because these days I feel really beautiful and truly, truly blessed.
And now on to fun the business at hand for today!
I thought that as a welcome back exercise I would do a little examination of some of the products for sale out there on the grocery store shelves that Americans are consuming as "food". Please take notice of the quotes around that last word. They are essential for your understanding of what I am about to present to you.
When I go home to my parents house in New Jersey they shop at a store called Wegman's. It's a MAMMOTH supermarket chain that contains everything that you could ever want to eat, and everything that you should never eat if you ever intend to collect on your 401 K.
Look I am no dietary saint. I could stand to lose say half an eight year old's body weight give or take, and lord knows that I have given into the lure of the Entenmann's more than once in my lifetime (see sidebar). However I do make a conscious effort to consume whole foods on a daily basis. Basically if a packaged food contains any ingredients that I can't spell, pronounce, or pick out of a lineup, then I am not eating it.
However I am continually fascinated at what your average American will eat when the dinner bell sounds. I'm not even going to get into the fast food industry here. Any person who would intentionally consume something like say the Hardee's "Monster Biscuit" which contains three strips of bacon, four slices of ham, a sausage patty, and...wait for it...51 grams of fat, clearly has no interest in seeing their children graduate from grade school. So today I just want to look at a couple of items that really stuck out for me on my list visit to your average suburban grocery store.
Let the fun begin!

Let's talk breakfast!
-Who wants eggs?
-Oh yum! I love eggs thanks.
-Great! How about some bacon?
-Well sure why not?
-Some cheese on that maybe?
-Well, I really shouldn't but what the heck!
-Terrific! Let me just get out the toaster.
-Oh toast too, wow thanks. I'll have whole wheat.
-No, no, I need the toaster to cook the eggs and the bacon.
-Wait...what?
-I need to toast the eggs, the bacon, and the cheese.
-Wait...what? Hold on a second I'm confused.

As well you should be!
The Pillsbury dough boy has once again made all of our breakfast dreams come true by placing eggs, bacon and cheese in one handy pastry wrapped package!
I don't know about you but I am so tired of eating all of my foods separately on a plate, and with utensils. Who has time for that nonsense? I am a busy woman, and I want my food combined into one congealed paste and forever entombed in a pocket of dough.
I want to be able to hold my breakfast in one hand, drive my car with the other, and scream at my ungrateful children all at the same time, and now thanks to that charming little dough boy I truly can have the American dream.
My favorite part of this particular package incidentally is in the upper right hand corner where it boasts "Made with REAL eggs and bacon!" No doubt about it folks! Those are real chicken embryos flecked with genuine slaughterhouse scrapings. Yum! Can't you just taste the freedom our forefathers fought for?

Keeping in line with our breakfast theme allow me to introduce you to these delectable nibbles. Smucker's Uncrustables and Kraft's newest taste sensation Bagel-fuls. My first thought here is that our children are barely literate as it is. Uncrustables and Bagel-fuls are not words. These are pieces of words that have been forced together shotgun wedding style by ad executives on a lot of cocaine. Can we please all put a halt to this madness now before I have to go to my gynecologist and request a "Papa-Smearo." I'm sorry but it's fucking stupid.

Now let's talk bagels shall we? I am a New Yorker and therefore a lover of all things bagel. So I know all to well the absolute drudgery of having to slice open a bagel, toast it and THEN smear it with cream cheese all by my lonesome, miserable self. Frankly this is the 21st century, and it's just bullshit people. Where are we Russia? I want my bagel in tube form, and I want it pre-pumped full of delicious dairy goodness! The good news is that these also come in the cinnamon and chive variety. If anyone has eaten one of these and lived please let me know.

As for the Uncrustables I believe we have been over this already. If I have to de-crust my own PB&J then the terrorists have already won.

Now that we are done raping the toaster I have a quick question for you. Who out there hates their kids? Want to give them a jump start on adult-onset diabetes?
Or maybe you are just sick of shopping for kids clothes, and you figure it would be easier if you could all just wear Lane Bryant sizes.
Well man have I got the stuff for you!
Check out that appealing package! It just screams nutrition doesn't it?
I am old enough to remember when Lunchables (again, not a word) first came on the market. It took much begging and pleading for my mother to buy me a package of these bad boys, and this was before they had such appealing varieties as "Pizza" or Jesus help us "Nachos".
There was no Capri-Sun that came with, no Starburst included for "dessert", just an incredibly sad stack of meat and cheese by-product covered by a thin veneer of hopelessness. Now if I had been able to partake of something as enticing as say, "Pepperoni Flavored Sausage" I am certain that my lunchtime could have been a far less morose occurrence.
Seriously, if you intentionally feed your child this product you should either be sent to jail, or be force fed a vintage Lunchables from 1986. I think my parents may still have one in the back of their fridge.

And on a final note, could someone please tell me where the "Cool Cotton Candy" trees grow? That's not a folk song, I'm really asking the question. You see way back in the 1980's when I was a tot yogurt came in flavors such as strawberry, blueberry, lemon...you know, actual fruit like items. But this alas I suppose is GoGurt (again, not an actual word assholes) and it is a far, far cry from my beloved yogurt of yore.
First off it comes in a tube!
What great fun!
When I was a child if you attempted to squeeze your yogurt container straight into your mouth they made you spend your afternoons in the green rug room with the boy who ate hair, and the girl who started fires. But today we are encouraging such short-bus like behavior by actually marketing products which encourage a complete lack of social graces in our children. Look I'm not expecting everyone to behave like they just came out of Miss Porter's here gang, but the kids who suck down this garbage make the boy who ate hair look like a goddamn Rhodes Scholar.

Well that's all for this visit. I hope you have enjoyed this little journey down the supermarket aisle with me. Please, at your next meal take some time to remember those who have no GoGurt, those who will never know the joy of a Bagel-ful, and those who God willing will never, ever have to endure a meal time consisting of something called a Lunchable. Until next time y'all. Happy eating!

OMG you guys! The Hills finale totally blew!

2008-05-12T23:15:00.000-04:00

Yes that's right. I'm admitting it.
I watch The Hills.
We all have our demons to wrestle with folks.
And watching these vapid, vacant eyed walking trust funds attempt to portray the "reality" of their incredibly dull existences is one of my guiltiest and most shameful pleasures.
This past week was the season finale and man oh man was it so totally worth the wait! I mean absolutely nothing happened, literally nothing! I don't even know how the MTV producers managed to capture "nothing" on video. They're fucking geniuses! Man those night classes at the New York Film Academy really paid off!
What a completely uneventful waste of film this entire series has been. These girls, all a scant five years away from their first botox injection, are so completely and utterly boring that the producers can't even seem to manufacture enough fake drama to make them even slightly interesting.
"OMG you guys! Lo and L.C. are like B.F.F.'s and Audrina is feeling totally on the outs. This is like so completely intense right now! What will happen? OMG!"
That was the big dramatic climax of the finale.
So when Lauren (aka L.C.) went to Audrina's part of the house to confront her about their troubled friendship she knocked on the door and Audrina was...
wait for it...
wait for it...
READING.
Look deep into these eyes kids.
You can almost hear the canaries twittering about in her wee little skull can't you?
This is not a woman who reads.
This is a woman who categorizes Cosmo as literature.
How much "reality" am I supposed to swallow here MTV?
Unless that paperback was from the Gossip Girl series there is no way in hell that book belongs to that bimbo.
Ok, I'm being a little hard on poor Audrina here. Truly she is probably the least offensive element of the entire series. And I am not expecting to watch this show and see actual "reality" on display. I mean calling The Hills a documentary program is like hanging a cross in a strip club and calling it a church. It just doesn't cut it.
But frankly that's what makes this travesty of a program that much more appalling. I mean if there are people scripting this trash, then what genius producer decided that the best way for Heidi to end the season was to blow off her boss, fuck up her career, and reunite with Spencer the world's most malignant scrotum cyst? Is this the example that we are now setting for America's young women MTV?
Call me old fashioned but back when I was a teen society had these quaint little concepts called "dignity" and "self-respect" that it tried to force feed us through health class film strips and feminine hygiene commercials. It was sweet really, and some of it actually seeped into our consciousness.
Now I'm not expecting MTV to do what is right for today's youth. After all it is entertainment not education. BUT COME ON PRODUCERS! You couldn't for the sake of all of the young girls out there have Heidi tell Spencer to go fuck himself, and go back to her job with her head held high? She REALLY needed to give up everything that was important to her for a guy? For a guy who is as big of an ass hat as Spencer at that? Thanks MTV for setting back America's feminist movement a solid thirty years. You guys rock.
And on a related topic, if I have to hear that fucking song "Don't Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me" one more time I swear to you I am going to personally hunt down every single last one of the Pussycat Dolls and titty slap them right across their implants. How about releasing a song called "Don't Cha Wish You Had Enough Dignity and Self-Respect to Not Pursue a Man in a Committed Relationship...Don't Cha?" Ok maybe the hook isn't quite as catchy but I think the message is much more appropriate.
Ok I'm done ranting.
More later.
I am going to go ask Jane Fonda and Gloria Steinem to forgive us our trespasses.
Goddess have mercy on us all!

More Fun with Facebook Dating

2008-05-10T19:25:00.000-04:00

Oh how sad and infrequent my blogging has become! I had a request today at the stage door to return to my ranting and raving as soon as I could summon the angst. So here I am dear readers back with yet another installment of the misadventures of my existence.

Let me begin by saying that my experiments in Facebook dating have gone forward and have not all been tragic. I have been burned before my friends. I'm not out there looking for "Mr. Right" or even for "Mr. Right Now". I am just casually seeking new friends, new acquaintances, and new people to buy me dinner. So though I have been dismayed in the past (the man from Qatar who wrote me on a Sunday morning at 11:13 AM to ask if I wanted to "meet on Union Square at noon to have some Sunday bunch" springs to mind) I dove back into the Facebook swamp to see if I could pull a frog prince out from amongst the horny toads.

I went out recently on a date with a guy who I met through some monstrously awful application called "Are you Interested?" So because of this my expectations were pretty low. Incidentally I am being stalked on this same application daily by a man who appears to be some sort of pixelated cowboy, and who is doubtless a serial killer. I'm not kidding. This is his profile picture.

He keeps sending me gifts of cartoon bottles of wine. You ever try to get drunk on cartoon wine? It's almost impossible.

What's that you say readers?
You would like to see some of the other "hotties" who have expressed an interest in little old me? Why sure! Please enjoy this cavalcade of actual photos I have received from suitors the world over!

According to this man's profile he is both married, and a minister.
Soooooo my type.

Trying not to be offended here.

I don't even know what this thing is.

I really wish I were kidding.

So anyway, back to the date with the guy I actually agreed to go out with only after insisting on seeing several different photos from various heights and angles. He works in finance. He has a career where he sits in an office, and wears suits with cuff links and buys and sells and invests in stuff. Hey guys, want to know every single thing that I know about money? It's green. That's it.

On a side note while looking for fun images to spruce up this entry I Googled "men in suits" and guess what came up? PORN! This only confirms my theory that you can Google pretty much anything in the world and still wind up with porn. Seriously, go try it. Google "Creamy Nougat"...BOOM! Picture of naked fat ladies! Why? Google doesn't answer these questions and Google doesn't have to answer these questions. There are some mysteries in this world that we are just not meant to uncover my friends.

Anyway, Mr. Finance and I did have a nice time but there will be no details here kids because I fear that he may read the blog and Lord knows nothing but bad could come of that. Suffice it to say we might see each other again.

So I have been doing some dating, catching up on my reading, hanging out with my dog, and riding my bike in the park. All in all the Spring is treating me rather well. But I mean come on people! Is it possible for it to get any worse after the Winter that I just had? Never mind, I take that back. Let me not tempt fate here. I don't want New York to get washed away in a Tsunami tomorrow just because I said that "it couldn't get any worse." Let's just say everything is exactly how it is supposed to be at this precise moment. Fair? Brilliant, moving on then.

But speaking of New York getting destroyed I am so OVER watching all of these movies where I have to see my hometown get obliterated in this ridiculously expensive CGI style. I don't need this shit Hollywood thank you very much! Those of us who were here for 9/11 don't care to relive it via spider dropping Godzilla monsters or people munching mutant dogs.

This past week I sat through both Cloverfield AND I am Legend and were it not for my career, and my mortal fear of mediocrity I swear to you I would have moved back in with my parents in New Jersey. Nobody ever annihilates Jersey in the movies. I mean seriously what's there to ruin? "Oh my God! They blew up Arby's! NOOOOOOOO!" Not quite the same dramatic impact as seeing the Brooklyn bridge crumble into the Hudson...twice...in two separate movies...in one freaking week! I mean Jesus screenwriters can't you guys conference call each other or something please? The people of New York are tired of being blue screened to bits in all of your sick cinematic terror fantasies. Take out Cleveland for once! At least that one would be a surprise.

Alright that's all I've got for this session. I will be back with more to bitch about soon I am sure. No worries kids. I can always find something to take issue with. Until then...peace!

Gods and Demons

2008-04-20T14:04:00.001-04:00

I have a problem. It's a serious problem, and I can't hide it from you guys anymore. I have cowered in the closet for too long, sneaking around corners, and exchanging bills for my fix wherever I could get it. I think it is time now that I come clean, really and truly clean, and just lay it all out there for the world to judge. The shame has been eating me alive. The guilt, the evasions, the lies, I just can't go on living like this anymore. And I don't want to disappoint those that love me by pretending that I am "fine" any longer. So I am here today to confess my transgressions, and to pray that some of you out there will be able to empathize with my weakness.
The sad, sorry truth is...

I have a sugar problem.

We're way beyond just Entenmann's here people.

The Sri Lankan guy at the Rock Center Dunkin' Donuts knows my name...my full name.
It's not good.
He smiles at me as he slowly, SLOWLY pours my coffee. This man knows all of my filthy secrets.

"JUST GIVE ME THE DONUTS MAN! I HAVE TO GO TO WORK!"

It's not pretty. I'm not proud of who I have become. I'm a monster, a sugar addict who is likely to fly off into a fit of rage at even the slightest provocation.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE OUT OF CHOCOLATE FROSTED? THIS IS DUNKIN' FUCKING DONUTS! THAT'S LIKE THE MOST POPULAR VARIETY! YOU DON'T JUST RUN OUT OF THEM! IF THERE ARE NONE LEFT THEN I GUESS IT'S TIME TO MAKE THE FUCKING DONUTS!!!"

Oh the shame! The humiliation my addiction has wrought. The looks I receive from the mothers standing between me and terrified children in Maclaren strollers, the brokers in suits still riding their coke binges from the previous night who glare at me like I'm a mildew stain on a shower curtain, even the homeless lady with the twelve plastic bags from Conway seems to look at me and say, "Wow. She is a fucking mess."

I've tried to go without. I've attempted to throw this monkey off of my back in the past. I once went three whole days without eating any sugar. By the end of that third night I was maybe six hours away from spending the rest of my days gluing houses out of popsicle sticks, and eagerly anticipating "Taco Night".

Here's the thing guys. On the whole I actually try to eat pretty well, and I think that I lead a fairly healthy lifestyle. I am still working on the smoking thing (Thank you so much for that recurring demon Mr. Ex-boyfriend) but other than that damage I do pretty well. Other than the occasional Dunkin' Donut sugar catastrophe, I buy my groceries at Westerly, Whole Foods, or the health food store near my house in Brooklyn. I cook at home as often as I can, and when I do I use almost exclusively organic ingredients.

I go to the Farmers Market on the weekends, and I even joined the local CSA in my neighborhood so that I will be able to get organic produce fresh from the farm all summer long. If you guys don't know what a CSA is it stands for "Community Supported Agriculture." Basically you pay a flat fee to the farmer for the season, and every week they bring a basket of organic produce straight from the farm to a spot in your hood where you can go and pick it up. It's a really great bargain and a wonderful way to get the freshest food, and support local farmers at the same time. My farm is called "Hearty Roots Community Farm" in Tivoli, New York so every other week this summer I will know exactly where and how my food was grown.

Now if I could just break the sugar bitch who lives inside of me...all would be right as rain.

And now on a totally unrelated topic, please do the following things.
Think of the following as homework for your heart.

PLEASE watch and sing along to the beautiful Julie Taymor film Across the Universe. I didn't think it was possible for me to love John Lennon anymore than I already did. This film made me fall all over again. Lennon was a prophet and his words ring true now more than ever.

PLEASE go to see the wonderful, amazing piece of Broadway theatre called Passing Strange. It is so innovative, so unique, and it features a tremendously talented cast of actors and musicians who pour their hearts into their performances. It is truly a must see for anyone who loves music or theatre.

And finally check out the book Conversations with God by Neale Donald Walsch. There are three volumes to the series. I am only through the first book and it has completely changed the way I view each and every day of my life. Trust me. Just give it ten pages next time you are at the Barnes and Noble, and I am certain you will want to take it home with you.

That's all I've got kids.
More fun to come.

Long Time No Blog

2008-04-17T21:30:00.000-04:00

I don't want to talk about it.
Seriously guys,
I don't EVEN want to talk about it.

Let me just say this. It has NOT been pretty. This month long absence, I'm not going to really get into it. I can't. It's really just too insane, and quite frankly I don't think anyone would believe me if I actually put it into writing. Let me just say that I got hit hard by a really unbalanced person, and it threw my game off big time.

Usually I am better at shielding myself against this kind of spiritual intrusion. I like to think that I am a fairly good judge of character, or at least I thought I was up until quite recently. But someone slipped under my radar, and long story short I ended up trusting a person who I shouldn't have, and paying dearly for it in the end.

It's been a rough month. Hell I don't have to tell you regular readers, it's been a rough year. But I am healing once again. The Spring is here in New York City, and everything looks new and fresh again. And like the blossoms on the trees I feel new life flowing within me, and I am ready once again to begin a new chapter in my life.

I can't even begin to tell you how many blog entries I have started and abandoned over these past few weeks. I think I just needed to spend some time inside of myself if that makes sense. As much as I love blathering on for all of the world to endure on these pages, I think I needed to just shut up for a while.

Shutting up...now there's a tough concept for me to latch on to. I have always been a talker. Words such as "lively", "spirited" and "outgoing" were liberally sprinkled throughout my childhood report cards. These words of course served as extremely polite euphemisms for "hyperactive", "obnoxious" and "annoying". I was one of those kids; bossy, loud, selfish and prone to telling ridiculous lies. I also cursed like a sailor with scurvy. I'm talking from about age eight to pretty much the present day. I still have trouble carrying on a conversation with my parents without the word "fuck" slipping out at one point or another. What can I tell you? I'm from New Jersey.

So being quiet has never been my strong suit. This has of course served me very well in my career. There's not a huge market out there for mute actors. In fact I think Marlee Matlin has booked every single role written for a deaf woman in the past 25 years. Seriously how old is she, like 70? Regardless, talking is my bread and butter. Mercury is my ruling planet according to my horoscope and it is the planet of communication. I am a Gemini and a Virgo ascendant which is also ruled by Mercury, so I am twice ruled by the planet of communication. What does this mean? It means astrology is a load of horse shit. And yet, I still keep on talking.

So this summer I am planning on going on a silent retreat upstate. It is a meditation retreat where you practice the Buddhist contemplative practice of remaining in silence for days so as to still your mind and come into present awareness. It scares the crap out of me. But I am going to give it a shot.

Okay, my show is almost done and my dog is waiting to be rescued from daycare. So I guess that's it for this very exciting post. I will try to liven the next one up a bit for you guys.

Maybe I'll talk about "The Hills", and what a complete and utter douche nozzle that Spencer guy is. Seriously? I really need to not watch MTV ever. It just fills me with sadness and resentment and makes me think terrible thoughts. Like the thought of that Spencer guy getting beaten to death with a bat on Hollywood Boulevard, see I would totally DVR that. (Sigh.) These are the thoughts that MTV puts in my head. I remember when they used to show videos on that there music channel. Yes, I am really THAT old. (Sigh.) And don't get me started on VH1. I mean Brett Michaels? You want to compete to date Brett Michaels? Why not just take a trip to the Port Authority Bus Terminal in a skirt and no panties and cop a squat on all of the benches? Maybe lick the floor at the Au Bon Pain while you're at it.
Oops.
I probably shouldn't wish for someone to be beaten to death on national television, AND talk about Buddhist principals and my new found insights in the same post...
Shit...
I'll work on that for next time.
It's all a work in progress guys.

The Scene Across the Street

2008-03-24T21:33:00.000-04:00

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

2008-03-22T01:52:00.000-04:00

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

2008-03-19T21:11:00.001-04:00

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

2008-03-13T13:26:00.000-04:00

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

2008-03-09T01:20:00.001-05:00

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

2008-03-07T20:43:00.000-05:00

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

2008-03-06T19:57:00.000-05:00

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

2008-03-03T23:12:00.001-05:00

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!!!

MEN!

2008-02-28T16:05:00.000-05:00

Oh dear Lord, how I have neglected you my poor loyal readers!
I am so sorry for my long absence and will do my best to insure that I never leave you again for such an interminable spell.
You may have thought that after my last post I fell into some sort of depression induced coma. But fear not gentle friends!
The truth is that I have just been extremely busy with rehearsals,
organizing my sweet new bachelorette pad,
and dating.

You read that correctly kids.
I Frances,
of the awful Ex and the endless breakup,
have actually been on several dates this week.
I KNOW!
I'm kind of excited about it too.

I don't want to freak you ladies out too much.
But word on the street is that there are MEN out there!
Not boys mind you, but MEN, real men with actual careers, and genuine social skills, and minimal mommy complexes!
And some of these rare specimens have expressed a personal interest in little old me.
Who'd have thunk?

I stayed with the Ex for so long in such a bad going-nowhere relationship that I think I had forgotten that it could be any other way.
I was thrilled this week to discover that not all first dates end with the man crying and asking you if you have any money.
A few of them apparently save some of that juice for round two.

But the good news that I am hear to share with you women of the world is that there are indeed MEN out there!
Bang the gongs and sound the trumpets people!
I feel like one of the great explorers sighting land after endless months of abysmal sailing. Amen and thank you Jebus!

But I am sorry readers you will find no filthy details of this weeks' escapades here.
Yes, you guessed it.
I am using my blog to pimp myself out.
Okay, well not really.
But let's just say that the blog itself has decided to solicit prospective suitors for me completely on its own volition.
It's out of control. I just can't stop it folks.
What can I tell you?
Some guys dig a lady with something to say.
And dear God no, this is NOT an open invitation.
Please don't send me your photo and ideal date description.
We are not Match.com here people.
However some of the readers out there have enjoyed my work,
and I have enjoyed their attempts to woo me with promises of gifts and candy,
and thus we have begun friendly, tentative relations.
So hooray, yet another benefit to my self-obsessed lifestyle!

So other than the romantic liasons I have been working on my apartment here in Brooklyn.
My Ex had a lot of crap. Most of it stored in these giant horrible brown Rubbermaid tubs.
Not my speed gang.
So now that this place is free of his stuff it is shaping up into a really lovely home!
Jasper is the little dog that I kept as my companion and I could not ask for a sweeter pup to come home to. He is a six month old Cavapoo, which is one of those fancy hybrid dogs. In this case it's a cross between a poodle and a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.
That pretty much means that he is so cute that he makes people stupid.
But we are settling in nicely here,
and next week I plan to begin the painting process.
Lilac Bathroom...very girly.
More soon friends.
I promise.

A Serious Sunday

2008-02-23T19:35:00.000-05:00

Growing up I figured out very early in the game that I had strong steadfast opinions, and I wanted everyone around me to hear them whether they wanted to or not.
On the playground, no one could defend Roe vs. Wade quite as vehemently as I could.
Needless to say I frightened many, many children and was not welcome at birthday parties.
But still I made sure that my message was heard loud and clear.
It was my body, and my choice, and nap time be damned no one was going to be the boss of me!

I have come to realize that people with such grand delusions of self-importance often grow up to write blogs.

So now it's second grade all over again.
But instead of screaming at you about how Reagonomics are going to spell economic disaster for our nation's financial stability, and then driving the point home by throwing my carton of chocolate milk at you, I am here communicating my rants in a more civilized, grown-up fashion.

And I hope that one day Bill Gates will announce that we now have the technology to throw virtual chocolate milk.

That will be cool.

But until then this is how I feel kids. This is my blog, and these are my opinions, and if you don't like it well then you can just go to someone else's blog and play with them.

So there.

I friends, am something of a political junkie. I wouldn't say that I am obsessive or anything but I do follow party politics with more than a fair degree of attention.
So take this as a fair warning gang.
These are tough times, and I like a lot of other Americans am "pissed off and not going to take it anymore."
So buckle up y'all.
Because this bitch is about to get a whole lot uglier.

In the 2008 election, like every other self-righteous liberal out there, my candidate of choice is Obama.
He's my guy,
my big cuddly Bama-Bear.
He's been my candidate from day one and not only because I enjoy shouting, "Go-Bama! Go-Bama!" And not just because if John McCain wins this Stepford Cyborg on the left becomes our First Lady.
But because I truly believe that the man has the guts and the goods to rescue our nation from the aftermath of eight years of President Bombs-a-lot and his Ministry of Mass Incompetence. And I don't think I need to tell you all ladies and gentlemen that as a country we are desperately in need of some serious help.

We are collectively in what I believe might be referred to as "a Dilly of a Pickle", or in another manner of speaking, we are what our British forefathers might have termed, "Royally Fucked." I understand Thomas Jefferson had quite the potty mouth.
To illustrate what I mean here let's check out this chart from the Pew Research Center's Global Attitudes Project.

If you are having trouble understanding what this graphic means, allow me to put it in layman's terms for you.

Everybody hates us...especially Turkey,
and especially Spain.

I am oversimplifying of course but not by much.
Take a look at these numbers people!
The majority of Europe, the very soil from which our country first sprung it's roots, our allies for generations, our ancestors, our friends...
they think we blow.
They think we blow hard.
Check out this excellent essay from Sidney Blumenthal detailing Bush's disastrous trip to Europe last summer. It's not pretty. http://www.salon.com/opinion/blumenthal/2007/06/14/bush_foreign_policy/

Can we blame the rest of the world for their frustration?
Let's get nostalgic for a moment and take a little look back at all of the glorious triumphs that President Bible Jockey and his band of Death Eaters have brought us in the past seven years.

Well first there was 9/11.
And what a way to start a Presidency!
Now I am in no way saying that this administration bears the sole responsibility for the horrors that befell us that Tuesday morning in 2001.
What I am saying however is that I believe the aftermath of these events could have been handled with less, oh I don't know, complete and total incompetence.

So off we went to war in Afghanistan! And rightly so. Let's go get Osama!
That bitch burned my city!
And I like many others wanted to see him justly punished for the horrors he wrought on us all.

But wait...um, ok he's not here...wait did you check that cave?
You did?
Well look again.
No, no the other cave.
Well check behind that rock over there.
No that one! Is that him?
Oh wait...that's a camel.
Hold on here's somebody.
Who the hell are you?
Mohammed? Mohammed what?
Hmm...sounds suspicious and vaguely foreign...better throw you into an island prison in Cuba without due cause or any right to an attorney...ever.
That will teach you not to speak English in your own country!

Hey! I have an idea. Let's go to Iraq!
I hear they have, um...weapons...big kinds...like giant Super Soakers that can melt your face and stuff.
And that guy Hussein, weren't we supposed to get him in that last war?
Yeah the one your dad started.
Woo boy did he mess that one up!
But now I hear that he is in this secret James Bond lair making bombs from plutonium that he bought from Nigeria.
How do I know?
Don't ask me stupid questions.
It's un-patriotic.
And you take off those sunglasses when you are speaking to the President!
Oh you're blind?
Ouch.
That's my bad y'all. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifwBRRg1s5w

Oh hey we found Saddam! Cool we found him...in a ditch...hiding...without any bombs.
Well we got him so that's what counts right?
Now off to the gallows!
And here's yet another great idea.
He's a Sunni right.
So get this...let's have a bunch of Shiite guards do the deed, and they can mock him the whole time just to really infuriate the Sunni population. Then they can turn him into a martyred hero! http://www.nytimes.com/2007/01/06/world/middleeast/06arabs.html?_r=1&oref=slogin Man our administration rocks!

Oh and um, apparently the city of New Orleans is under water now.
Sorry about that, that's totally our bad.
That picture above was taken in America folks.
It's not pretty, but it's the truth.
I apologize if you came here looking for some lighthearted reading, but they aren't all going to be happy posts guys.
Sometimes I just have to speak my mind.
So forgive me for taking the soapbox so early on this beautiful Sunday morning.
But I do this because I believe in what this country is supposed to stand for.
I believe in justice, in liberty, in true Democracy.
And this morning I have a little bit of hope for us all, that there may be brighter, clearer days ahead where America can once again stand as an example to other Nations.
Where I can be proud once again of the decisions we make and the rights we choose to defend.

And I look forward with great anticipation to the day when I can once again travel abroad with my head held high,
and not have to tell people
that I am from Toronto.
Have a blessed Sunday everyone.
Peace.

Hell is a 90's Love Ballad

2008-02-22T14:19:00.000-05:00

I am having a problem here kids.
It's not at all funny.
It's a serious issue for which I feel there should be Telethons held and Run/Walks scheduled.
I can barely leave the house.
I am afraid to be seen in public lest I let slip a symptom and then become an instant pariah of anyone within earshot.
You see...I can't get the classic 1990's Wilson Phillips song "Hold On" OUT OF MY FREAKING HEAD!

I have tried everything. Ice packs, coffee, repeatedly smashing my forehead against my kitchen wall.
Nothing.
All I hear is, "If you HOOOOLD on for one more DAAY, things will go your WAAAY. Hold on for one more day!"
I don't know what demon, what vengeful warlock has infected me with this plight today.

But I swear to you I awoke this morning and it was like I was trapped in my junior high gymnasium, and Lisa Madden was cuter than me, and Eric Hager didn't want to dance with me, and "It Takes Two" was so totally going to be next on the playlist. (That DJ Ruled.)
But ever since this morning a continuous loop of Carnie Wilson smashing a sledgehammer right through the great musical legacy of The Beach Boys has been haunting me non-stop. I mean their genius father wrote "God Only Knows." He released the legendary album "Pet Sounds."
How do they sleep at night?
I really don't think I should leave the house today.
I mean is this some sort of messed up motivational device sent up from my unconscious?
If so my unconscious self doesn't know JACK about me.
I mean WILSON PHILLIPS?
My psyche is going to communicate messages of encouragement to me through WILSON fucking PHILLIPS?
I mean Christ the Beatles recorded over 200 songs, you couldn't throw one of those into my head?
I would have even taken "Hang On Sloopy" over that dribble any day.
Sigh, I'm working it out kids.
It will be okay.
Eventually I know that the seizure inducing harmonies of the three beach ladies will be replaced by some car driving by blasting something else to remind me how much I hated my adolescence.
I don't care who you are. Age ten to thirteen is ugly.
Okay maybe if you're Lisa Madden it's not that bad but for everyone else these are ROUGH years.
And for those of you who weren't around back then let me just tell you that the music of the late 80's and early 90's did none of us any favors.
I mean Warrant, Whitesnake, Motley Crue, Poison, they released love ballads for gods' sake!
There is a reason Axl Rose went crazy and let some surgeon play Mr. Potato Head with his face. He couldn't stand to look at himself after subjecting us all to the 9 minute version of "November Rain."
Still it could be worse.
I could be 12 today and have all my music dictated to me from some corporate board room in Orlando, Florida.
"We will take Billy Ray Cyrus' daughter, and we will put her in sequined booty shorts, and we will synthesize her voice to a level so deafening that even Avril Lavigne's ears will bleed, and they will beg their parents, and they will shell out millions of dollars, and they will never know us, but WE WILL BE GODS!"
...I may have been too hard on Motley Crue and the boys.
I'm going to go put on "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" and pray for mercy for us all.
Peace Guys.

"Drunken Children Tell the Ugliest Lies"

2008-02-21T01:27:00.000-05:00

I have 20/20 vision.
Very exciting stuff I know.
I tell you this because the truth is I always wanted to be the type of woman who wore glasses. I'm not crazy.
I've never prayed to God for a detached retina.
What I am saying is that I always wanted to be that woman.
You know her.
Maybe you have seen her at the Whitney,
or toting a canvas bag full of fruit and bread on the train.
She's incredibly well-read, dazzling at cocktail parties, always wearing jewelery that a friend brought back from Sri Lanka, and smells of tea tree oil, jasmine, and leather bound books.
The kind of woman who keeps her hair long in her fifties and throws the whole gray frizzy lot of it up into an effortless heap with a pair of chopsticks.
I love that lady, and I always thought that the key to someday becoming her began with the glasses.
"Let's drink chrysanthemum tea and discuss Anne Sexton and then I will tell you about hitchhiking through Morocco and the bandits who almost stole my llama."
Damn.
I have to get some glasses.
As a child I envied the kids who got to wear them.
Every year I would try and throw the eye exam.
"E, G, A, D, next line, uh, B, X, Q? um R, next line, sailboat? turtle, crescent moon, 7."
Never worked once.
Our school nurse, I believe her last name may have been Ratched, may have been one hundred and eleven but she was sharp as a bear trap.
Granted I may have given her just cause to doubt my many ailments.
I hated school and was constantly looking for a reason to flee and catch a bus to New York City where I was certain my millionaire husband would be waiting on his yacht ready to sail me around the world with violinists, caviar, and fine champagne.
I watched entirely too many episodes of Fantasy Island and The Love Boat as a child.
I may never fully recover a sense of reality.
Anyway I had a habit of crying wolf back in those childhood days, and given any moment of boredom or mediocrity I would ask to leave class, head to the infirmary and say something along the lines of "I have a terrible ache in my stomach and my scalp won't stop itching. I think I have polio."
I used to try and throw the hearing test too.
I don't know what I thought I would get out of this one.
Really cool hearing aids that all the other kids would envy?
I don't know.
All I remember is that the nurse would put these giant suction cup headphones over your ears. You know the kind?
The ones that the Williamsburg kids wear on the train to let you know that they have been listening to Modest Mouse since '96 and are therefore THAT much better than you are.
So the nurse would play these beeps in your ear and you had to raise your hand to tell her if you heard the sound in the left ear, the right ear, or not at all.
Every year I went Helen Keller deaf after twenty seconds.
And still...no cool hearing aids to show off in September.
I would stand lopsided for the scoliosis exam just begging for a back brace.
I would touch the head of every dirty kid in class just praying for the popsicle stick to leave my head hopping with lice.
And still...healthy as a freaking horse.
So why did I do all of this stuff as a kid.
A desperate plea for attention?
A longing to be different?
A yearning to make friends with the elderly?
It may have been a combination of all three.
But today I thank my higher power that I can see the stars, that I can hear the wind through the trees, and that I don't have to wash my hair with charcoal.
Still though, I may pick up some fake glasses.
And then maybe someday I could be that lady I have always dreamed of.

Going Underground

2008-02-19T19:42:00.000-05:00

It's getting ugly out here guys.
Truly.
We are through the looking glass people!
So this is the new plan.
I'm going incognito!
I have updated the blog to hide any evidence of how gorgeous I am,
and more importantly where I can be found within shooting distance.
So those of you who happen to know my name and where I work...
let's just keep that on the DL shall we?
I had to erase some comments that referenced anything too identifying so sorry about that.
And for all of you new readers out there, all you need to know is that my name is Frances and now I look like this.
Are we all clear? Excellent! Let's move on then shall we!
My dear Betty Lou left for her new home last night.
There were lots of tears both from me and the Ex but I know that this is going to be the best thing for all of us.
It was sweet actually and the two of us (me and the Ex not me and the dog) actually shared some sweet words that we hadn't heard from each other in a long time.
There were long kisses and tearful hugs, and I am not ashamed to say that we lay atop our old bed and talked about the dreams we had both once shared.
It was a little "Lifetime Movie of the Week" but it served a nice purpose for me in that I now feel that I have some closure.
I also know that he is going to miss me maybe even more than I will miss him.
He said he would always love me.
It was actually sort of beautiful.
If he wasn't the jackass who cheated on me it would have been even lovelier but, it is what it is.
Okay y'all that's all I have tonight.
Act II is upon me and I have to start packing up here at my
COMPLETELY ANONYMOUS LOCATION!
I hope everyone has a lovely night here in Branson, Missouri
and I will see you all down by the Keno Parlor!
Peace Y'all!

My Last Night with my First Baby

2008-02-17T19:10:00.001-05:00

This is Betty Lou. This photo was taken the day that my ex-boyfriend and I brought her home. We adopted her from a rescue organization when she was only 12 weeks old. The Ex didn't want her but I talked him into it, and after just a few days we were both head over heels in love. Betty Lou takes up a huge place in my poorly damaged heart. And sadly tonight is the last night that I will get to feel her curled up with me under the covers while we both sleep.

She is leaving tomorrow to go live with the Ex and his new "girl" friend. My heart is broken, smashed, shattered. I can't even think about tomorrow without bursting into tears. But I work on Broadway. The Ex has a 9 to 5. He has all weekend to play with her and let her run in the park. And he truly adores her. He loves her more than anyone else in the world. And even after all of the pain that he has caused he, I could never keep them apart. I know he will take wonderful care of her. And he has promised me that I can see her whenever I want. But it's not the same, you know? She is going to live somewhere else, with a new "woman" and I won't have her around to lick my tears when I cry or to keep my feet warm at night. Boy this year just keeps on getting better and better! And that friends is once again why I have decided to start it all over.
Look at that face! She is so precious to me. This has to be one of the hardest aspects of break-ups. When you live together in New York it's like you are married, you know? You share everything, the rent, the bills, the groceries, and of course the dogs. We have two dogs and I never ever thought that I would see the day when we would have to separate them. Truly, naively in retrospect I suppose, I never thought that he and me would part. You have to understand folks that I had every intention of marrying this man. We were discussing engagement rings on January 1. We talked about kids just a few days later. And then just a few days after that the bottom fell out on me. My whole future, my whole world, gone. Never saw it coming kids, but there it is.
So sadly I must say goodbye to my girl as well as my boyfriend this year. The three of us did have many wonderful times together, and I will treasure those memories forever. Trips to the mountains where Betty would haul logs up the side of the hill all afternoon, and then curl up next to us by the fireplace at night. She loves to swim and we would take her to the dog beach in Prospect Park and watch her do laps with branches in her mouth, swallowing giant gulps of lake water all the way through. Betty Lou is very special to me, my first baby really. And I can't lie folks, it kills me that she is going to go live with a "woman" that I don't even know.
Still...I know that Betty Lou knows who her Mommy is and she is not going to be replaced by this other person no matter how many liver treats she slips her. I know that my Betty Lou loves me to pieces. And I also know that life without her Dad has been really hard on her. So this is for the best I suppose. Hopefully she will eventually adjust to her new home, and be able to come and visit me and her buddy Jasper in a few weeks time when I think I can handle it. Until then I will hold my Jasper at night and try really, really hard to keep it together. Pray for me guys. I need your support. Thanks for all of the love. And thank you Betty Lou for being my one and only first baby girl. Mommy loves you...always. Mommy will love you...always.

Peace Declared! Throngs fill the Streets!

2008-02-17T13:20:00.000-05:00

Okay guys.
I'm done.
Really, truly, done.
Enough with the bashing, the hate, the name calling.
It was fun while it lasted.
But I don't want to reduce myself to this level.
I have decided that I must be the bigger person here.
And also I am afraid that this girl might be an NRA member.
I don't want anyone pulling a John Wilkes Booth on me from the balcony of the theatre.
I mean seriously...I have a lot to live for folks.
So I am NO LONGER going to waste any of this precious blog space writing about the Ex and all of the ugliness that has been trailing me this year.
Instead I have decided to start 2008 all over again.
It's been a rough few months kids.
And I need a do-over.
So ready everyone...
3,2,1,
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Let us all find peace and joy laughter and love!
Let us put aside our old grievances and look towards a brighter tomorrow.
I don't want to fight dirty.
In fact, I don't want to fight at all.
So join me friends as we embark on this new journey towards acceptance, understanding, forgiveness and peace.
And let's all thank our higher power whoever or whatever that may be that we are all here, all alive, all healthy and all able to enjoy this new day and the many promises that it may hold for us all.
Woo Hoo!
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
Peace!

Cupid Can Suck It

2008-02-14T23:37:00.000-05:00

Hello readers! Did you miss me? Of course you did. Sorry it's been so long since I wrote but I have been busy fighting off gentlemen callers with roses and chocolates all day, and man am i spent!
Hey do you guys know the really great thing about Valentine's Day?
If you answered "nothing" you are exactly correct!
Valentine's Day bites.
Straight up bites.
Here's a fun fact kids.
Did you know that Valentine's Day actually commemorates the hanging of St. Valentine? Indeed.
And what better way to celebrate the martyrdom of a saint then a stale Whitman's Sampler am I right folks?
Like I need another freaking reminder that I am not in a relationship?
Thanks Hallmark!
Maybe tomorrow you could cut me with all of your unsold cards and then douse me in lighter fluid.
Good times.
So basically today was spent sobbing and pelting people with those candy hearts that taste like chalk.
If you were anywhere near midtown today and you got hit with one of those it was probably me.
Sorry.
However I see now that it is 12:05 AM and that means it is officially no longer Valentine's Day!
In fact it is 364 days until we have to deal with the next freaking Valentine's Day!
Hallelujah!
Later gang!

blogging like nobody's business

2008-02-10T20:05:00.000-05:00

Hello loyal readers and welcome back! It is another day here in New York City and things are really starting to look up. For starters it has actually been cold these past couple of days...in February...in New York City...I know, right? Crazy! It even snowed a bit today! Man that Al Gore sure is a big whiny cry-baby huh? I mean polar bears, who needs 'em? What have polar bears ever done for me? Nothing that's what. When was the last time a polar bear offered you a seat on the subway? Never right? I say if they want to live they will adapt just like Darwin said. Go ahead polar bears grow some flippers or something. You can do it! But in all seriousness it is nice to finally not feel like I should be sipping something out of a coconut shell in what is supposed to be the middle of winter. Jack Frost welcome I say!

The other night at the stage door a fan brought me Entenmann's Chocolate Doughnuts. This brings me to an important point that I should have mentioned earlier. Gifts are always welcome and appreciated and will quite likely get you a mention in the BEST BLOG EVER. Just something to keep in mind readers. You should also remember that cash always counts as a gift. Homemade cards are not gifts. They are litter. Please keep this in mind as well.

So the Writer's strike is over and thank you Jebus television and movies are coming back! I don't know about you but this has been a brutal couple of months for me. To not be able to come home and drown my sorrows in a new episode of "The Office" or "30 Rock" just added insult to injury. As a writer, I was of course on the side of my peeps in the Guild, and I was thrilled that the producers were unable to break the union. But holy God that was a long three months!

I actually started watching PBS out of sheer entertainment deprivation. And just so we all know for future reference, there is nothing whatsoever entertaining about PBS. I mean Christ, maybe if they jazzed up some of their existing programs they wouldn't have to beg me for money every month. For the last time I DON'T WANT A TOTE BAG! Oh but it's only a $75 pledge! Well why didn't you say so? Does it advertise the fact that I am a complete loser who sits home alone at night with a bag of mini Twix trying to pick out the fakes on Antique Roadshow? IT DOES!? And all for only $75? Well sign me up PBS! I mean seriously, to the programming executives out there, give Elmo syphilis on a "very special episode" and I guarantee you the viewers will descend on Sesame Street like ticks on a Muppet. Then maybe you can let Ken Burns finally get some sleep.

And on a completely unrelated subject, happy, happy day my Barnes and Noble UPS delivery just arrived! Want to hear what I ordered? Yeah...it's kind of pathetic actually. What's even sadder is that I was too embarrassed to purchase these titles in the store, hence the on-line shipment of shame. I got 1) "How To Mend Your Broken Heart and Overcome Emotional Pain at the End of a Relationship" and 2) How to Heal a Broken Heart in 30 Days a Day by Day Guide to Saying Good-Bye and Getting on With Your Life." So I guess what I am trying to say with these titles is "Party at my Place! Good Times Ahead! Woo Hoo!"

Yeah...did I mention that it has been a rough couple of months? The Self-Help section, Sweet Jebus, no one EVER wants to be caught browsing in the self-help section. Nothing says, "I'm half a box of Mallomars away from taking a bath with a toaster oven," quite like hanging out in the Self-Help section of the bookstore. I mean Dr. Phil titles live there for crying out loud! I mean look, I know I'm not an Olsen twin (although we do have the same birthday, true story), and I don't pretend that there are cameramen stalking me following my every move, but still, I can't be seen anywhere near a Dr. Phil title. My poor parents are still living, and I think I have put them through enough pain without the added shame of their beloved daughter caught in the vicinity of "Love Smart" or "Self Matters" by Dr. Phil McGraw-some.

So dear readers, I am off to dig deep into the depths of these titles. Hopefully I will emerge a better, stronger, more confident woman. Or at least one with twenty-eight fewer dollars to her name and two paperbacks stained with mini Twix prints. Whatevs gang. I will keep you all posted.