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

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

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?

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!

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

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

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

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.