Look out world: Back to blogging is MY SIS

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
all.

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.
Whatever.

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.

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.

WHEN YOU SNAP

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,

"...it 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.

SOMETIMES WHERE I REALLY BELONG

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.

SOMETIMES WHERE I DON'T REALLY BELONG

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.