Saturday, February 28, 2004


More Than Donuts had a momentary scare today
when she saw that the Brooklyn Cyclones were
seeking 'on-field talent' on Craigslist. This seemed
slightly lame somehow for one of my most favorite
teams. Luckily it was only an ad to fill mascot
positions and not players. I considered applying
to be the Brooklyn Cyclone's next mascot

-One must agree to work all 38 home games
from June to September (bye bye Hamptons


-One must submit a 'video' (what kind exactly?)
Me dressed in a hot dog suit chasing a distant
cousin around a family BBQ?


E and I decided to go to the Bronx Zoo today.
It was the first sunny warmish day in a while.
As we struggled our way past hundreds of
strollers, dropped toys, mittens lost, crying
kids starving or desperately thirsty for juice
boxes...I couldn't help but ask the question,
"Is the ratio of kids to adults in the world far
greater or are we seeing some kind of gross
misrepresentation here?"

Friday, February 27, 2004


One time I worked for a boss that actually
sent an email to the staff that read word
for word,

"Dear Staff-
Please note that Europe has a different time
zone then America. Please keep this in mind
should you call us for any reason while we
are on vacation."

I know because I wrote it down in a notebook
praying for the day I could write it on my blog
finally free from working for such patronizing

Wednesday, February 25, 2004


Today I've had the lyrics to Patience by
Guns N' Roses playing in my head all day
and when it finally stopped I picked up
99 Bottles of Beer On The Wall. Ack.

Tuesday, February 24, 2004


go for pedicures...

you have tea...

you meet up with other two best friends for drinks...

you eat sushi...

you play the clash while eating a cake shaped like a british

You share a mostly silent cab home over the bridge. But you do
talk about the time when you two first moved to Brooklyn right
out of college. How one of you -the one with the Georgia
license drove the moving van spray painted 'Die Nazi Scum'
across the bridge while the other clutched the map, leaned
out the window and yelled, "You're all clear friend. Go for it!"

Friday, February 20, 2004

45 Rich People's Coats = $7 in Tips
It’s Okay To Smile

Last night I worked another party as coat
check girl. This time it was in the private
residence of the uptown, east side family
-the Blumenthals. As a kid, the closest thing
my parents had to coat check was my childhood
bed where inevitably I’d be forced to sleep on
someone’s denim jacket leaving an imprint on
my face until the drunk adults called it a night
and I could finally crawl into the comfort of my
own sheets.

It was the first time I worked with this particular
catering company renown for their high quality
of service. While most companies I’ve worked for
catered bar mitzvahs or retirement parties, these
guys were responsible for openings at the Met.

The staff was a nice but a serious bunch. Instead
of the idle chit chat I was used to like, “When did
you get back from Lion King?” people instead
walked around and did what they were told.

The captain was smart and focused. He wore
an expensive suit and a silver skull ring which
I found odd but intriguing. His language was
way out of my usual catering league. At times,
I felt like I was on a cop show with all the
mysterious lingo:

“I’d like everyone to nest their bread, ok people?”

“For guests that are Veg or Veag, there is an alt
to the main although I’d like you to refrain from
the solids if possible and rely only captain’s signal
since I’d like to sweep those out pre-mackeral."

And finally,

“Has everyone been rolled? I’d like everyone
rolled please.” (lint brush)

After all the details were discussed I approached
the captain about coat check. The team seemed
charged up with their long list of responsibilities
and I was eager to hear what I needed to do to
get set up.

The captain handed me a sheet with my name
on it. It was only three lines long. It read,
“6:15pm-coat check in place. 11:15-guests
retrieve coats. It’s okay to smile.”

Coat check turned out to be a glorified extension
of Mrs. Blumenthal’s storage closet and sadly
located on the lobby floor to their penthouse-
two floors below the party. It was a cold room
with a nasty breeze that made the metal hangers
clink on the rack like wind chimes. To make it
worse, my bag with snacks, my phone and any
reading material was locked upstairs although
I did end up finding an old New Yorker under
a box on the floor. To top it off, the closet
was directly below the kitchen where all night
I caught waves of roast lamb with rosemary,
rutabaga puree and warm chocolate bread

Out of 45 guests there were 15 minks. Cinzia
Rocca. Clement Ribeiros. Burberry. Hartnell of
London. At the end of the night out of 45 coats
I received two tips-a $5 tip from one man and
$2 from another. By the time the last couple
(#333 and #332) came to get their jackets,
my eyes were blood shot tired and my fingers
frozen to the bone.

I overheard their convo:

“Did you enjoy my toast? Was I a fool?”
“Yes I did enjoy it darling. You were stunning!”
“Really? But I have such a terrible smile.”

Friday, February 13, 2004

Internet Friends-They Are Who You
Think They Are

More and more these days those in my social circles
are meeting in person for the first time people they
know only from the internet. It sounds spooky right?
It is and it's not. These are not dating web sites in
which we all know one another from. We 'know' one
another from blogs, fotologs and frankly...our love
for kittens. Ok. Not kittens.

Take for example our new once 'internet only' friend
and now our 'real life in person' friend V+. Recently
V+ was in NYC on biz and met a bunch of us for
drinks. It was very nice to meet him and we were
all relieved to find out he was not a spooky old man
with an ant farm collection but rather just...V+
the guy we 'know' from his internet writing and

V+ was also on his corporate company dime
and was kind enough to buy us many rounds
of drinks. While we may feel like we know V+
now let's hope his employer isn't questioning
the man they hired-this very same man-V+
that according to his petty cash receipts drank
79 drinks in one night on a biz trip to NYC
and took a stretch white limo home.

Friday, February 06, 2004

Look out world: Back to blogging is MY SIS

Wednesday, February 04, 2004

My So Called Strange Life

My life works in very STRANGE STRANGE ways.
A friend knowing I'm always looking to earn a
little extra cash forwarded me info on a last
minute casting call today for a DOVE commerical
with the need for a girl between 25-45 with long
dark hair-no models no actors. Um. Ok. I called
over before I went to be sure it wasn't a joke or
that I needed a resume of commerical experience
or god forbid a headshot. This is New York after

I arrived at the studio. When I first walked in a
guy at the front desk looked me up and down
and said, "Here for the casting?" I scanned the
room. It was full of dark haired girls between
the ages of 25-45 brushing their hair, putting
on lipstick and comparing other gigs. I filled
out some paperwork and he took a Polaroid
of me which he stapled to my form before it
was even developed. Damn I wish I had a copy.

After I handed in my 'paperwork' I waited on a
bench among the other girls. I smiled at them
but they ignored me so I decided to play bitchy
model back. I read my paper. I ate a bagel. If
I had cigarettes I would have smoked them.

A small man entered the room and called out
names one by one. I was actually fourth on
the list so it went faster than I thought. When
I walked into the room I was asked to stand
on a piece of red tape on the carpet while the
man asked me basic questions while filming.
Where I grew up. What do I do for a living,
etc. Since this is for a hair commercial he
asked me to toss my hair from side to side.
Toss. Toss. This is totally wierd. Toss. Toss.
I can't believe I am here doing this right now.
Toss. Toss.

When we were done he said,"Great! Thanks
so much. You really are perfect for this. We'll
know in the next day or so." Door shuts.

While I'm sure he says that to all the Dove
girls it still was another day in my surreal
life. It really was.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

Ain't No Chips Ahoy

The other night we thought it would be a
fantastic idea to buy some Chinese durian
cookies from Chinatown. Mmmmm. Durian.
One of us heard that durian was an unusual
fruit but a good one and plus the packaging
was just so great. (Not as cute as Panda
Land cookies but still...) Well...have you
smelled durian? Anyone? When the package
was opened, a smell emerged that to our
ignorant American noses was a cross
between a toddler's soiled diaper and
burning hair or plastic. We wanted to
like durian. We really did.

The End.

Monday, February 02, 2004


I've been meaning to blog about a recent Public Lives
piece I read in the New York Times about a woman
named Sherrie L. Maricle who is my new idol.

For years Sherrie dreamed of being a jazz drummer.
She was very talented but was constantly put down
and discouraged by various people not to follow her
dream. For years she settled on being a paid wedding
band drummer until the day she recalls the exact
moment that she snapped,

" was the song "The Bride Cuts the Cake," played
to the tune of "The Farmer in the Dell," that broke her.
At one wedding she had to pound it out for 15 minutes
until she threw her sticks down in disgust and walked
to the bar.

"I thought, Why am I doing this?" she said. "I told my
boyfriend I could not play music like this anymore."

You go girl.


In a cabin in Maine with no phone or TV,
great books, a fire, my man, friends, cozy
blankets and just enough cash to buy that
night's dinner.


In an overpriced cafe, schmoozing with clients,
worried I have lint on my black coat, carrying
the perfect purple bag and new boots and
picking up dry cleaning.

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