...Celebrity Tally

Beginning this week, I am going to keep a running tally of celebrity encounters I have from now on because they are totally at random and come out of left field. It would be one thing if I expected to find myself in these situations, but that is never the case. This will only include face-to-face meetings for the fact that my indirect contact with celebs is not nearly as exciting. I mean, would you care that we've engaged some celebs to send out eblasts? I thought not.



Today's celebrity encounter is brought to you by the year 1995, when I was a wee sophomore in high school and totally obsessed with ER on NBC. Dr. Mark Greene's first love affair on the show with Dr. Susan Lewis was the top priority on my schedule in between Advanced Algebra and Honors Chemistry homework assignments (nerd alert!).


This afternoon, I had a lovely meeting with the good Doctor Greene regarding some video shoots. In the cab over to the meeting, my co-workers and I were running through the list of people we'd be meeting with, including video producer Anthony Edwards. We joked that it would be funny if it were the famous Anthony Edwards, but seriously doubted he didn't have anything better to do than meet with us! Imagine our surprise when we're introduced to "Tony" Edwards and it's actually Dr. Mark Greene. Well, we were all surprised except for one of my co-workers, who had absolutely no idea who he was until we left the meeting and we told him so.

Please note that I am only referring to Mr. Edwards as Dr. Greene because I cannot think of anything else more relevant about him. What about Top Gun, you ask???? Yeah, I'm not a big fan of movies with major traumatic death scenes, and the loss of Goose still scares me to this day. Thus, we shall celebrate my celeb encounter with the one and only Dr. Mark Green.


Celebs: 1 and counting...


Maverick, OUT!

...War of the iPods

It started as just another Saturday night, but the weather was the warmest we've had since last summer. So perhaps my claws were poised at the ready? Anyway, I was decked out in one of my newest Yumi Kim dresses, which deserves a moment of reflection: Yumi Kim is my fave designer in the city, whom I can actually afford. Her prints are AH-Mah-Zing! and I never fail to get compliments when I wear them. And most dresses have an added bonus: pockets! Plus, they're pockets that do not create weird seams or saddlebag action on your hips. Flawless!

Anyway, back to the story--it was a balmy spring evening in the city, which can lead to crazy times. We headed over to my friend Nick's 36th floor fancy apartment in Chelsea for an evening of drinking games, gorgeous skyline views of the city, and dancing to one of my famous iPod mixes, custom-built for the party. Ping pong balls were flailing about, landing in the odd solo cup with a splash, folks were shaking their booties on the dance floor, and plenty of mixed drinks were being poured in the kitchen. So, the scene is set for a fun party...

Midway through Kanye's "Stronger," the music is abruptly swapped out for some sort of Paul Simon "The Sound of Silence"-esque party-killing anthem. The mood of the place immediately changed and the fevor that was building throughout the evening started to plummet back to stone-cold sobriety. Now what's fun about that? I inquired after whom (yep, whom) had removed my iPod, and some Ugly Beyotch comes running at me saying that she was told she could play her iPod and that I was not to touch her device. Ok, crazy.

I let the music go for a bit longer, but then it really was killing the mood. I wasn't the only one to notice, so I went up to Psycho Snatch and asked her if I could put my iPod back on the speaker. I said that everyone wanted to dance, and when my iPod was on, they were. She snapped back something about how my music sucked and that no one was dancing when it was on. She was so disrespectful in her approach, which always sets me off. Who pissed in her beer?? And then I lost it. I was held back from punching that Whore square in her ugly mug. And my anthem for the night? "I'm gonna kill a bitch!"

I was vindicated in my hatred of her by my friend Rich, who arrived at the party and immediately frowned upon the music. He thought he could slip his iPod into the dock unnoticed, but then Ugly Mug comes charging across the room shouting at him to take it out. At this point I knew I had to remove myself from the situation, or else I would have cut that bitch. But, the thought of an impending lawsuit for battery deterred me from acting upon my impulses. I was wearing a designer dress, after all.

The moral of the story? Snatches are never a welcome addition to a party. And buy a Yumi Kim dress this summer--you can thank me later.

...Subtext

A quick Quote Book Masterpiece Theatre for your Tuesday afternoon reading pleasure:

After watching a marathon of Teen Cribs on MTV because we were too hungover to function, the Boz, Lucy and I were mesmerized by the fancy houses of random tweens across the U.S. One house had a secret room that was a small theatre for the kids to perform things. Lucy only heard the audio of this moment and thought it was a sex room. Later that evening, Lucy saw a mysterious staircase in a bar and said, "Is there a tiny, dirty performance space in there?" (Probably funnier if you were there, but I had to give Lucy her blog debut.)

In reference to Lucy's ex-boyfriend, who after getting scared to propose and breaking up with her 6 weeks later said that he wants to get married, she texted him a response: "Hindsight is sophmoric."

No explanation needed: "Loose morals are the Subtext of 2009."

I was exclaiming one night that we were having a perfect NYC moment, watching a random bartender we met the night before performing with his bluegrass band next door to where we just got our zombie makeup done for a birthday party. I was saying how much I loved everything, to which The Boz replied in a deep voice, "I enjoy passion," and then she took a slow, long sip of her bucket 'o wine.

Someone was complaining about how much they ate the other night, to which a friend of mine replied, "How much did you eat? Are you still attractive?" (fair question!)

Going to see Flight of the Conchords at Radio City Music Hall tonight, and I can't wait. If you haven't seen their show before and you enjoy the humor of this blog, I have a feeling you'll love it.

...Whale

As the saying goes, "April showers bring May flowers," I would like to suggest an alternate:

"The crappy, rainy weather of Manhattan in March and April (despite it officially being spring) brings me to my largest weight ever."

I am not saying I am fat. Just saying that I feel fat, like a giant, bloated whale, and I have no motivation to improve this condition while the weather is in the 40s and raining. But, I write here to cleanse myself of my bad habits (i.e. Grandpa Baby), so here is the motto for April:

"April came in like a Whale, but went out like a svelte, toned, attractive gazelle."

Whenever weather gets gross, I will be repeating this motto in the hopes that I don't gorge on chicken fingers and beer and then wonder why none of my pants fit.

Think spring, and maybe it will happen. Or just cover your ears when you hear the sound of seams spliting down your rear end...

...End of Things

Well, kids, I did it. I kicked Grandpa Baby to the curb. This was LONG overdue, but I didn't feel the mandate to totally end it until yesterday after a long day of riding a party bus around Manhattan, having a wonderful time, and feeling empowered by Coronas and rum. No better than Berger's "post-it" break up note to Carrie on Sex and the City, I did it all via drunken text messages...the point being that I am one classy broad. The transcript of the texts are as follows:

Me: "Whatcha up to? We're on the Lower East Side post bus and not too hammered." (Editor's note: we were VERY hammered, so I guess that was a lie to coerce him to hang out? Hmm...)

Grandpa Baby: "Watching the bball games with friends and then going to my friend's bday party." (Editor's note: he had planned to meet up with me, so this is what set me off.)

Me: "That's cool. Want to meet up or no? If you have plans that's okay. Let me know." (Editor's note: my drunken rationale was to play it cool, but be direct. It only lasted for so long...)

GB: "Probably be hard to do given all that's happening." (Editor's note: WTF?!?!?!)

Me: "That's fine. I get what's happening, so if you ever want to hang out again, I'm not into it." (Editor's note: the rationale to play it cool has just flown out the window.)

GB: "Hahaha. Ok. Have fun tonight." (Editor's note: I wasn't being funny, so why is he LAUGHING????)

Me (going in for the kill): "Not kidding. It's weird that we haven't hung out in ages. It shouldn't be so difficult, and I'm done with this." (Editor's note: well played, if I do say so myself.)

GB: "Wow, ok. I get it. I have been lame and apologize. But you're right. Still, have a fun night tonight." (Editor's note: men who grovel are very unattractive. And also, he should stop telling me to have a fun night.)

Me (sending the nail in the coffin): "I get it too. Given all that's happened, I'm cool. Talk to you never." (Editor's note: did I actually say "talk to you never"? Yes, I sure did. And he never wrote anything back.)

Thus concludes Text Breakup of a Faux Relationship Masterpiece Theatre. Goodbye and good luck, Grandpa Baby.