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Wed, December 15
Cherry Pie
My dad decided to make cherry pie from scratch the other day, cherry pitter and all. My sister and her friend were bored, so they watched as he pitted each cherry and told them the steps one must take to bake the perfect pie.
Ashley was restless.
So dad sayd, "You know Ash, it is very important that you learn how to bake a cherry pie, because one day when you're older, the mother of the guy you are dating will ask about her son, "But can she bake a cherry pie?
He was referencing an old folksong called "Billy Boy" .
My sister, obviously unaware of my dad's esoteric joke, looked at him like he was from Mars, (because sometimes, us kids do consider that a strong possibility), and said:
"No she won't dad. She'll ask him, "IS SHE JEWISH?"
---------------------------------------------------
Can she make a cherry pie,
Billy Boy, Billy Boy?
Can she make a cherry pie,
Charming Billy?
She can make a cherry pie,
Quick as a cat can wink an eye,
She's a young thing
And cannot leave her mother.
This is the link to the whole song, if you want to have it in your head all day..and night:
http://www.grandfolkies.com/billy1.htm
Posted by lexzog at Wed, December 15 | Comments (1)
Tue, December 14
Can't We Just Be Friends?
I was second on the waiting list for spin class tonight. I figured, hey, it’s Monday, I am sure people were just overzealous in their post-weekend eating fest plans, and merely AIMED to make it to a killer Monday spin class.
I was wrong. The class was packed, and it was only ten minutes before the start of class.
It didn’t take long for the instructor, already on his bike, to notice me waiting outside.
“She’s in”, he said, in his Irish? British? Australian? accent.
The guy with the clip board (yes, they actually use a clip board) looked at the instructor, and then at me like, “hey, I don’t make the rules. And neither does HE.”
Then the instructor jumped off the bike, and locked me in a one-armed bear hug… “This one is IN, and that’s final.”
He was bigger than the clipboard guy.
Feeling confident that I might just make the class, I went to get water. Two minutes later, the spin instructor was there, to refill his bottle.
“Alexis, hand me your towel so I can save you a seat. And it will be right up in front.”
“Great idea! Oh thanks!” I said. “That’ll be excellent—that way, I can’t slack off!”
Happy oh happy me…I got into the class.
The instructor did his usual head turned down, eyebrows raised stare, right at me, every few minutes, to make sure I was peddling my ass off.
Yes, I did eventually have to take off my t-shirt because there is no ventilation and the room is so small…but sports bras are standards in spin classes.
At the end of class, he made his usual joke: “So are you gonna take the next class?” (He teaches ANOTHER spin class, directly after this one.
My face was red, I still hadn’t caught my breath, but I managed to exhale and speak at the same time, breathlessly, “Are you KIDDING? I’d just about collapse onto the handlebars…No, no, I’m going to do some stretching, maybe a few—“
He interrupted me (note: insert dreamy accent here): “We should get a drink some time after class.”
“Well, if you mean a drink as in a date….No. I have a boyfriend.” (I was quick on that one. Usually I try not to assume someone is asking me on a date, for some reason, I think to myself each time, “Hm. Maybe this guy means a ‘friendly’ drink?” But not this time. Ohhhhh no. Experience has made me wiser.)
So I had to say, “Of course we can get a drink some time, anyway…. Oh by the way, I’m leaving the country for three weeks. Going to Mexico with my BOYRFRIEND.”
You know, this keeps on happening to me at gyms. I befriend an instructor, a personal trainer, a manager…it makes me happy to have friends in a place I go to three to four times a week. It feels like community. But each time I THINK I have made a new friend, or just found a nice trainer who feels like spending an hour showing me new and wonderful ways to sculpt my legs and abs, or an instructor who has taken a special liking to me because I push myself and really love his class…it always turns out like This: An awkward moment when I get asked out on a date.
And now…what to do? I love this class! I like this teacher (not in THAT way, obviously). And I already am avoiding my Tues. spin class because of the scary skeevy married guy who hit on me a few weeks ago…I’ve completely avoided my old gym on the upper west (except for sneaking in the back way to take dance classes), because all the trainers there eventually asked me on a date.
Did I miss something?
Last year, when my romantic life sucked (well, it was busy, but the quality of the romantic prospects was poor), should I have walked around with red, sweaty face and dingy old sports bra and t-shirt? Would things have improved faster then?
Sheesh.
Anyways…More updates, cuz this blog is looooong overdue. Last Wednesday, J played Dodge ball with me, Shannon, Laurie, Lenore and three other guys. We were the ONLY team with girls on it.
The “Championships” were much, much smaller than the last time. Last time we had maybe 20 or more teams, playing in a ginormous gym, and the games lasted until 11:30. This time, we played in a tiny elementary school gym, with six other teams. We were the biggest losers…Really. Each time, the guys on our team would get out first, because they actually RAN to the ball. The girls just tried to stay in the game as long as they could without getting hit. And every time the girls had a ball, we would throw it to the other side, with hardly any spin or aim…Just to DO SOMETHING with it. (We did have one really amazing player though, who beat down quite a few boys).
This time though, the boys were not as mean…at the last event, the girls got pummeled with balls. Last time, the guys could care less that we weighed half as much as they, and you know, had BOOBS. This time, I stood across from this one guy who had the ball, and he would consider throwing it at me, and then his eyes would look troubled, and then he’d smile and throw the ball to someone else on the team.
He couldn’t hit a girl…
Friday night, J and his friends, and my friends Jen and Michelle (Michelle from the readings, not table-dancin’ Michele)…all went uptown baby, uptown baby, to this new barbeque restaurant called “Dinosaur” (130th and Broadway?). It originally started in Syracuse, and now we have our very own ribs and cole slaw place, in the Big Apple.
It was like being in suburbia: The hostess had a microphone that called out tables. They must have imported all their waitresses from Syracuse, or Texas, or wherever else people are friendlier than NYC, because the waitresses were all chipper and TGIF-like, “Hey! So what can I get ya for your apps? Wings? Artichoke dip?”
I’m used to servers who lazily come by the table, assume you must have intensely researched the menu already and impatiently wait for your order.
I personally ate seven slowly cooked, sinfully bbq saucy ribs…and “salt potatoes”…and corn bread…and slaw.
We all went home later, swearing to never eat again.
But the next day I met friends at Pain Quotidian, where I never can say no to nutella and French bread.
I spent the rest of Saturday looking for a wedding dress to wear to a fancy one that J was invited to when we get back from Mex.
Tried to get a bargain at Filene’s, but only walked away feeling very low in self-esteem after catching every flaw I know I have and a few I hadn’t even IMAGINED, in their dressing rooms’ awful, bright lighting and mirrors that (I pray) add ten pounds.
Of course I ended up buying a super expensive dress by BCBG at Bloomies, after seeing myself in the dimly lit, (hopefully) accurate (if not slimming) mirror of their dressing rooms.
But it’s OK. Until now, I have never owned an elegant cocktail dress.
I love those words: Cocktail Dress.
Imagine if they called them “Drink Dresses.”
And then, what does that mean–are we only supposed to wear them during cocktails, and change into something else for dinner? Is there a dessert dress too? Come to think of it, there should be a fixed price, three course dress…by BCBG of course.
Went to J’s mom’s holiday party on Saturday night. I thought I’d just stop by for a quiet drink, and then J and I (who were already dog tired from our separate day’s activities) would head home to sleep.
But these folks put us, and the friends who J invited, to shame! They were belly dancing to Shakira, mixing martinis, downing rum and cokes, slipping on the newly renovated kitchen floor, doing the shimmy and the shake. The women were slimmer than I could ever hope to be, and wearing LEATHER PANTS and crop tops. The men were…mostly shlubby looking…but they danced. That’s a plus.
The party was rockin’ until 2:30 in the morning. Ashamed at how low-energy we were for being in our early to mid-twenties…we hung our heads and went home.
Sunday…Brunch with J, mom, and dad at “Redeye Grill.” (We can’t afford it, but it is so darn yummy.) It was exactly what I wanted…A chance to catch up with my parents and also for J to get to talk to them without distractions (i.e. my brother, sister, etc.) As mom says, “he fits right into our family.” At least she didn’t say that to him (mom, you score!) I just hope he didn’t think too much of the,
“I’d like to meet your mom, J. I really would. Not in a “serious way.” Just in a “friendly” way. You know.”
Posted by lexzog at Tue, December 14 | Comments (0)
Tue, December 7
Inner Monologues II:Bedtime Stories
I didn't think the last show could be topped...But this was maybe, oh, ten times even better! Apocalypse was PACKED. We couldn't squeeze another body inside. The crowd was a great mix--it seemed as if every performer had friends there, and their friends friends too. I was especially grateful to see how many of MY friends braved the elements and showed up on a Monday night. Highschool friends that I haven't seen in ages! Random people from work!
J's friends came too..That was surprising. He says it's because people want to go to "cool things that their friends or people they know are doing, because so few people actually DO things" (besides work).
And best of all....Dad came (even though he was sick with a cold all day). Justin stopped by too, but only to see my piece.
The order of events was perfect: As usual, Buttercup started things off. I like putting her first because her confidence is infectious. She is so self-assured, she makes everyone stop mingling and whispering, and commands attention. Her pieces also tend to be racy, and set the tone for the night--this was going to be truthful telling.
Next, Emily went. Her fishnet stockings and off the shoulder shirt were also attention getting, but what caught my attention was how well she edited her piece and took my comments into account. She was so cute up there. "What? Do I look like a ho?!"
After Emily, Jonathan: I was happy that he chose a piece that revealed his more vulnerable side--the one that existed before he turned "bad". It was sad, and so honest. He's very good at story telling, and I give him credit--he did it on little to no sleep in three days.
We had an intermission after that, which was a great idea. Everyone mingled and got drinks. The bartenders were happy.
Next, was Michelle. That girl is HILARIOUS. Her piece this time was just as memorable as "Fat Mat" (which she did at the Stand Up NY event with me back in Sept.) I knew her story would be a gem from the first time I read it, in email form, when she hadn't even thought it would be material for a show.
Then...Me. I didn't want to go at the end, and leave everyone on a sad note. It was odd, making the switch into "character" for the piece. On stage, my dad says, that I look like myself doing an imitation of my sister doing an imitation of our cat Sabrina (coquettish, coy, all that). I think I did as good a job as last week (at "First Thursdays"), because I felt the piece just as strongly...all the emotions that were involved in recreating that weird time, during that weird relationship. It was fun to do the little acting parts too...And then at the end I had to switch back to "Hostess Lex" mode, and that's when it struck me, how "into" the reading I was.
I made Shannon and Leslie cry!
After me, was Fearless Dater. I was so happy with the way she edited it--it seemed much more rounded and thought out. She got a lot of laughs, and does an excellent job of characterizing things, (her "different kind of dance floor guys" was classic- "the butt bumper," "the hoverer", etc.
I'd like to post these pieces, but want to make sure its OK with everyone first.
And finally, the coup de gras: Brian. He could (or does) do this kind of thing for a living. I'd like to try to emulate his style--in that, he doesn't read how he writes, but reads how he talks. Which would be more suitable for "Spoken Word"...But then again, I don't know if my "writing style" would come through that way.
Every girl in the audience was wondering who this guy was, and how I found him...He said he'd do the next show as long as there are always pretty girls in the audience. So I think its a win-win situation.
I think I saw Lindsay grab one of the flyers for her "Alexis's Publicity" collection.
Oh, and a few drunk men stumbled into the event during the readings! One, kind of zombie-walked over to the bar, while someone was on stage reading, and loudly asked for a Rheingold. He then put on a Viking hat, after intermission. God knows..
I just love doing this event so much. The whole process of it. Although it gives me huge headaches at the time, I couldn't be happier than when I am editing someone's work, and then to see how they incorporate those edits and make it their own makes me so happy. Does "swell with joy" sound too cheezy? Because that's what organizing and putting on this show makes me do.
And I think it reaffirms that all the crappy stuff at work is worth it, because one day, I'll really be doing this for a living (editing).
I met the author of "Whittington" today--the book that when I first interviewed for this job, I had to pretend it was a recently acquired manuscript and write a letter to the author. When I wrote the letter and gave it to my (now) boss, she called me that morning, and told me I had the job.
Meeting Alan was like meeting a celebrity--without any of the let down. He was so kind, and warm, and easy to talk to. The kind of man you'd imagine sitting by a roaring fire, with his dog next to him, as he pores over a very used and very often read book...In fact, he is also a traveling used books salesman.
Oh, and today, a woman whose manuscript I kindly rejected (thank goodness) called me to ask if I was related to a Dr. B-r-d...Turns out my grandfather delivered her son, 38 years ago! What a small world it is...
I'm off to J's...Watching 21 Grams hopefully. Or falling asleep to it (so exhausted.)
Oh, and here's my piece:
Download file
Here is Michelle Sanders' piece:
Download file
And Jonathan's: (requires Quicktime Player)
Download file
Posted by lexzog at Tue, December 7 | Comments (2)
Sun, December 5
When Doves Cry (again!)
No, I didn't go to another Prince concert, but I'm reusing a previous blog entry title, because I went to a beautiful, wonderful bar/lounge for Erica's birthday last night called, "The Dove" (on Thompson between Bleeker and West 3rd).
As J described it, its "a Victoria's Secret, if Victoria's Secret owned a bar." Deep burgundy wall papering, an old fashioned oil painting of a dove (of course), comfy Victorian looking couches, porcelain tea cups with cheese crackers, and every drink is served on a lacy doily.
How ladylike!
Even though we got there at ten, there was a surprisingly good crowd of people there already. We lucked out and got to sit in a cozy nook by the window (decorated with mistletoe and the like), which was up on a platform, making us feel like very important ladies at tea.
Except, we were drinking martinis. I had an amazing martini called the "Honey Dove", which consisted of cognac, honey, and soy milk. On second thought, it did taste like tea! They had other concoctions too, like the "Flying Grasshopper" which was green and tasted exactly like mint chip chocolate ice cream, and a "Violette" which had a suspicious description that included words like "floral potion" and "perfume". Maybe next time..
After two Honey Doves, I felt a bit queasy from the milk/alcohol combo (ha! My first drink at Columbia U. was a white Russian. Still Marisa's (my college roomate) favorite).
I recommend what my roomate Katherine had, which was the Tart Cherry martini or something like that. Sweet but not overpowering.
At one point in the evening, one of Erica's friends was on top of one of our seats by the window, looking for her jacket under the enormous pile of coats that had accumulated. I didn't realize this, so I sat right down on the seat, where my left ass cheek was greeted by an extremely pointy STILETTO HEEL.
And for the rest of the night, Becs kept slapping my butt "because it's so slappable!", but each time she forgot that I had just sat on a stiletto and ow....that really hurt.
Friday night, J and I ended up not seeing "Bad Education", because he was late getting to my apartment and by the time we got to "Petrosino" on Houston and waited there, we realized no restaurant except a fast food one, would be fast enough to make us in time for a 10:15 movie. I ended up canceling our tickets (lets hope Moviefone reimburses me!) and we had a nice, relaxing dinner there. What I really liked about the place was that they gave each person their own bowl of tomato sauce (warm) to dip the table bread into, instead of the usual butter or oil thing. And the dessert! We had a nutella ricotta cheesecake that was beyond words.
Zach tried to help us watch one of his thousands of DVD's, on my computer, when we got home, but J was snoring on my bed by the time I downloaded "21 Grams." Another night.
The next day, Saturday, we woke up and went to brunch at "General Store" where we scored free dessert from the nice maitre d'/ waiter, who felt bad for "rushing us out of our table." We didn't even feel rushed, but who could say no to warm chocolate brownie with homemade ice cream? Then I worked for hours at DTUT on preparing for the show and securing my credit cards while I'm away, while he worked on a brief.
Damn. I'm starving right now. Ate dinner at five because I was famished after African Dance and walking all over Soho looking for Chuck Taylor's in 2-tone green and pink. Anybody seen those around? Not one Urban Outfitters has any left.
And I'm freaking out over what to pack for Mexico. Dreams of wearing one skirt and one top, with no makeup and no beauty products are slowly being dashed as I find myself making lists of what to buy before I go:
-a new clear mascara (since my current one looks a bit muddy from mixing with other makeup
-a new regular mascara (in case I decide to not take the au natural route and want to glam it up at night)
-more underwear (even though I wear the same five favorite pairs and wash them on a daily basis, I find the need to have a great supply "just in case"
-Mini biolage conditioner...in case my half-filled conditioner runs out.
This is just a tiny sampling of my real list of "things to buy."
Of the moment concerns/crisis:
-Should I get my highlights redone? They've grown out since September, but then again Sophie, my coworked says that my hair "always looks like it has roots" (nice). If I don't ge them done then I'm looking at like, five more weeks of brown hair growing in by the time I get back. J says who cares, as probably will you, but my mom and good friends say never to go on vacation looking like shit cuz you'll hate all the pictures.
-Should I bring my Prescriptives concealer that I've had for almost a year but seems to still have stuff in it, but who knows--the tube could just be filled with air air, and if I bring that, and it runs out--gasp! How will I hide a blemish?
-I just bought a NEW one...Should I bring that one, even though J warned me that "all your makeup will go bad because its so hot there" (which I think is just a ploy so that I don't bring any)
-Which hair product to bring? Hm...the current one I am using, or a special leave in conditioner so I can leave my real conditioner at home?
DO YOU SEEEEE HOW INSANE I AM?
I remember before leaving for sleepaway camp, I would fill entire notebooks with lists...Wouldn't you know it, I wouldn't even have to refer to the lists as I was packing because I had already memorized the entire page and could refer to it by mental image alone! (Thankfully, this power of mine worked when it came to final exams too, so that by the time I'd made pages of notes in preparation for a final, I'd hardly have to refer to them again because the act of writing them and thinking about them was enough to sear a photographic image of that page in my head. This memory capability only lasts for a week or so, which explains why I remember nothing from my A.P. United States history class.)
So why do I bother?
I think I make lists when I am super stressed. Which I am because...My show is tomorrow night! I am so excited, but really hope everyone leaves the show thinking, "That was a good way to spend a Monday night." Its hard though, most of my friends don't live in this neighborhood and its a Monday, blah blah.
Dad is coming to the show, which I am so psyched about. I wish mom would come to, but "Ashley can't stay up past ten, she's cranky all the next day." And god forbid we find a babysitter.
For someone so involved in every other aspect of my life ("What'd you eat for dinner? Are you alone in your apartment? How's J? Is he still the best? etc. etc."), I would think she'd want to make an effort to see what I have been working so hard on for the past few months...
Posted by lexzog at Sun, December 5 | Comments (0)
Fri, December 3
First Thursday!
So maybe having rehearsal for "Inner Monologues" last night at Coffee Shop in Union Square wasn't the best idea...Not only was it a "scene", but as the evening wore on, the music got louder and louder, and worse--turned into TECHNO. I should have known, but it seemed like a good idea at the time, since it was close to many subways and also took reservations. Oh well. All in all, I am sooooo excited for Monday. I am so proud of my writers.
At ten, I shot out of the restaurant and took a cab with Badman to St. Mark's place for "First Thursdays", which is a showcase for new talent, in an informal setting. It was much less organized than my shindigs, and more varied (musicians, stand-up acts, random stuff, spoken word) but it worked. I mean, the organizers didn't even know what people would be doing until they did it. The crowd was definitely nerdy/cool/hipster. Lots of cool Australian people :)
I really liked this one set by a girl named Chandra (of a band named "Chandraplexi") where she sang lyrics like, "I like stamps! I like stamps! Let's go have fun with frieeennnds." So cute and silly.
So by the time I went on, all the equipment had been cleared out by the bands who had performed earlier. No microphone. But the acoustics in this beautiful loft were perfect. It was perfectly quiet, and my voice, even during the parts when I had to whisper, sounded clear. Something about performing in front of complete strangers, as opposed to all my friends (at my event), and standing in the middle of this big space...I really felt what I was reading. It came out exactly how I hope it does on Monday at Apocalypse Lounge.
And when I was finished, there was a pause, and then lots of clapping. Girls came up to me to tell me how much they felt my piece, and how "every girl in the audience knew EXACTLY what you were talking about."
So if you want to see why I'm tooting my own horn, come to my show on Monday:
(open link)
Download file
Today I had to go to NYU to be initiated into a research study, as one of the guinea pigs. While waiting for my prescription, I was so tired from this week that I drifted off to sleep. I awoke to some random man staring at me:
"You look so beautiful sleeping. If I could, I woulda taken a pictah."
Creepy?
Later, at a deli, I was stuck behind this really slow guy but couldn't see what he really looked like because of my big hoodie and my hair was all in my face. If I had paid attention, I would have realized I was stuck behind a crazy drunkard. I was trying to wait for him to move so I could squeeze past him and reach for a Poland Spring, when he turned around, looked at me like I was going to mug him, and said really nastily, "WHAT?!:
Then the cashier told me that I was in the "wrong neighborhood". Wrong neighborhood? Second avenue and 27th? What, did he think I was from Tennessee, sightseeing?
On my way home, I stopped off at Andromeda in St. Mark's place to get a new nose stud. My old one just looked...old. The same scary looking dude who pierced me a year ago changed it, and I've come to appreciate his expert way of sticking contraptions up my nose, taking a foreign object out of it and then putting in a new one in a matter of seconds with NO PAIN WHATSOEVER!
J's here....Off to see "Bad Educations."
Posted by lexzog at Fri, December 3 | Comments (2)