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Mon, December 18
The Catchup
I didn't even get to report on the show last week because I've been so darn busy. It was SUPERB. We had so many people in the audience that the girl at the entry way had to turn over ten people away. Unfortunately, they turned away good friends of mine who I wished had a chance to see such a good Inner Monologues. I'm not sure what to do next with this show. I am sure there are other venues in New York, but this one is really nice looking, and they don't make me charge people to come to the show, nor do they impose a 2 drink minimum. Jessica Delfino, after doing her back by popular demand hit song, "My Pu--y is Magic", said I should take it to Madison Square Garden...Okay, I'm not that big, but still. :) Wouldn't that be fun?
Bridge was our first monologuer in Inner Monologues: Wanted. She told a story about a guy who was a bit TOO well endowed (her piece was called, "Wanted: Less Inches). Justin's piece was hilarious. He really knew how to draw a story out, and make people hang on his every word. Susanna's story was beautiful. Dan Levin told an awesome story about how much he loves Strawberry Shortcake. Dave W. had a guitarist accompany him as he made some interesting sounds with yogurt and read us a list of what he wants for Christmas. Emily complained about being so short that even petite sizes are too big for her (her piece was called, "Wanted: More Inches." Julie told a hilarious story about a horrible wedding she went to where she was the only person not invited with an "and guest" on her invitation. I told the story about how my coworkers discovered my personals ad in Time Out New York, and worse--discovered the fact that I hate horses.
Today I went to the acupuncturist for the second time. I don't know if it will cure my headaches, but it sure is a rush. Today the doctor and the nurse conversed in Chinese making very disapproving sounds over my back. "You very tense," the nurse told me. "Not good. Your chi, it's too much." My chi was so bad, they had to take these glass cups, and suction it out. It left these odd purple circles on my back. It looks like I either was abducted by aliens, or that J has a very peculiar way of giving hickies. Too bad I have to wear a bathing suit on Friday...The Mexicans will just think I'm the deformed American girl on the beach.
Jen's on her way. We're going to watch "The Devil Wears Prada", which was part of my gift bag from Friday's holiday party...You can never get too much of a good thing.
Posted by lexzog at Mon, December 18 | Comments (1)
Sat, December 9
My Show: This Wednesday
Posted by lexzog at Sat, December 9 | Comments (0)
Parka Test
This past week, I decided to conduct "The Parka Test." The Parka Test is a test of whether or not men will still holler at a woman (er, me, in this case) if she is bundled up in a parka from neck to feet and is wearing any combination of the following: the hood of the parka jacket, a large fur hat that makes one look like an old Russian man, and gloves that give hands gorilla-like appearance. Here are the results:
Tuesday at Coffee Kiosk--Wearing Regular Pea Coat Jacket (no parka and no hats or gloves): Coffee guy handed me coffee and said, "Have a nice day, Beautiful." Conclusion: Men think I'm pretty.
Wednesday at Coffee Kiosk--Wearing parka with parka hood on top of it: Same coffee guy handed me coffee and said, "Here you go, Miss." Conclusion: Parka=Homely.
Thursday--walking past Duane Reade on 3rd Ave--Wearing Parka with big Russian hatt and gorrilla gloves: Three men unloading boxes of Pantene said "hssssssss" and "that ass!" and "p p p p (indiscriminate sound)". Conclusion: Some men have a thing for gorillas. Or old Russian men.
Friday--walking into Union Square Subway--Wearing parka, Russian hat, parka hat over that, and gorilla gloves: Guy who hands out AM New York said, "Have a nice day, Sexy." Conclusion: This man must have x-ray vision. Clearly negates Tuesday's hypothesis.
Overall conclusion: There is no reason for me to dress in anything less than a (lightweight) burka when the warm weather comes around again, because apparently it does not matter what you're wearing on the outside. Men simply like to imagine a world where everyone looks beautiful, sexy, and has a great ass, under their State Puff Marshmallow Man parka.
P.S. (And this is totally unrelated). My boyfriend has taken to calling me "Poopie" as a term of endearment. Is this Okay?
Posted by lexzog at Sat, December 9 | Comments (1)