Again!

Another Harvard Sailing Team video up on Dot Comedy! Now we have two videos up on their home page, which is pretty great.

(Btw, there are more videos on our myspace page, if you like videos.)

Nice.

NBC Universal has a comedy website called Dot Comedy. After several face to face meetings and what I'm sure were many phone calls and emails, they wanted to purchase some of Harvard Sailing Team's videos. This was awesome news because we love making videos and we love when that equals fame and fortune. The first video they bought is up on their site now. And I'm in it. That's me, above, doing some serious acting with my main bitch Clayton. Pretty neato. :)

But!

I didn't want sugar in the iced coffee mister! I said no sugar, not yes sugar. And I certainly can't go back down there to ask you for new coffee! Who will answer the phones? Ohhhh...I really can't drink it with the sugar in it. I really want to, trust me, but I really can't. Every sip feels like it's >sip< rotting >sip< my >sip< insides. Dramatic? Perhaps. But if you don't like sugar drinks you just don't. Who wants this iced coffee? I'm sure it's delicious.

Health Watch

Am I srsly eating (and enjoying) a hummus sandwich from Pret? I srsly am. It's pretty good. I did go pick some cheese from some sandwiches we had at work on Friday out of fridge and stick it on my plate, but cheese, veggies, hummus, and grainy bread for lunch sounds like I'm a healthy rabbit.

I could really use it after this weekend's Eat 2007 Festiganza.

That's not a real festival. That's just a made up festival that I celebrated this weekend without telling anyone else that there was a festival going on.

On Friday night, before we saw our friends in Too Much Light Makes The Baby Go Blind (which was good and interesting) we went to FriendHouse, which we love. We ate a fuckin boatload. And to think, he almost ordered an additional entree to compliment the 7 other plates of food we'd requested, but thought better of it at the last minute. Phew.

Then, Saturday, I surprised him by navigating us to this amazing Italian place I mentioned yesterday. And we ates and we dranks and then we saw a movie during which we also ates and dranks.

Yesterday I decided I was never eating again, after which I had tapas and sangria with Daniel in Astoria. And snacks later. And some of Friday's leftovers after that. And then an ice cream novelty. I'm not pregnant, I just play one on tv.

Ridiculous.

But delicious.

So today I must be nutritious. And drink diet colas. And tomorrow I must exercise.

True Crime Sunday

My birthday is one month from today. Yessssss.

My mom's birthday was yesterday. She turned 46. She turned 19 on October 6, 1980, and had a baby a month and a day later. Can you imagine? She's awesome. I sent her flowers. Her hubby took her to see The Producers. I love my mom.

Kevin's dad's birthday was also yesterday. Kevin is visiting his parents today. Birthdays are for celebrating.

My cat has some sort of psychological problem, I think. He has an obsession with a blue bouncy ball. And he cries and moans if you won't play with the ball with him. (He fetches it. Obsessively.) And he cries and moans and bites people in the middle of the night. He's been keeping Kevin awake for hours. I woke up in the middle of the night last night and Kevin was sitting up on the side of the bed, looking really defeated. I got the sense I'd woken up in the middle of a desperate moment in his life. The whole thing is pretty stressful, but thinking about it right now makes me laugh. Anyway, I have to take the damn cat to the vet.

I'm doing nothing today. I'm getting a mani/pedi, I'll go workout later even though I rillyrilly don't wanna. And I'll hang out with Daniel later tonight.

I slept IN today. Sleep tonight is a long way away.

My friend Steve and I are doing a two person improv show this Friday evening. Maybe I'm nervous, maybe I'm not. Who knows.

I saw Michael Clayton last night. I really liked that movie. I really liked it a lot. We also had dinner at a place called Celeste on 84th and Amsterdam. It was small, loud, and we had to wait 25 minutes to get a table, but the food was so so delicious and it was so cheap! It was a recommendation of Chris and Rebecca's. And while we were there, Rebe's roommate and best friend Sonya showed up with her parents who're visiting from Miami! We barely got to say hello, the place is so bustling. While we were waiting outside for our table, I overheard a bunch of people who walked by with their friends say something like, "This place is amazing," or "This is Celeste, it's supposed to be incredible." It was. I had a lot of fun. And wine.

I also lost my wallet last night. This happens once every two months. It's just how it is.

a little late and irate

(Hey! My blog was a year old last month and I didn't even realize it! Okay. At 12noon today I'm throwing myself a Blog Birthday Party. I'll celebrate by surfing the internet.)

Isn't it cliche to bitch about the transit problem in New York? Tough. This might be the most cliche thing you've read all week. Leave this website now if you can't handle the obviousness of it all.

FUCK YOU, MTA. Seriously. FUCK youuuuu. I actually hate you. I'm talking actual hate. And I'm not the only one, ya hear? At one point this morning, during my hairy, ugly commute (a commute who's only consistency all week long, whether I'm coming from Brooklyn or Queens, has been its close resemblance to every horror film I've ever seen) I glanced around me at the sweaty New Yorkers becoming more miserably acquainted by the second with platform they'd been damned to wait on all morning long, at the train passengers sitting on the stalled-and-definitely-not-leaving-the-station-any-time-soon train for what would probably end up being another ten (FUCK YOU, MTA!) minutes, at the people people everywhere who just want to get to work you awful transit system - we just want to get to OUR JOBS - and I noticed that at least a quarter of the people were visibly shaking their heads in silent, defeated disgust. It's a common sight to see a disgruntled straphanger shaking their head in silent, defeated disgust. And that, my dear transit authority, means YOUR SYSTEM ISN'T WORKING SO WELL.

When I can generously estimate that 25% of the people who use your system are unhappy with it, you need to rethink your business model. If you were a real business, an actual business that ran and functioned the way capitalism dictates that most american businesses function, you'd have been run into the ground by now. But we don't have a choice, we citizens of this fair city. Do we. And you take advantage of that like we're a school girl in ripped prom dress who's had too many wine coolers. You suck. You suuuuck. YOU SUCK. I actually fantasize about physically harming your employees. That's no good. That doesn't a peaceful city make. You create a rage and an anger in all of us that just doesn't need to exist. Because we're pissed off enough having to pay upwards of $12 for a sandwich and bottle of water.

In 2006, the US Census estimated that there are approximately 8 million people in New York City. That's a lot. So I'm gonna do some layman's math right now, just for shits. Let's say 1 million of those people use the subway per day. I'm sure it's more like 3 million, but I want to be really generous with my estimation. So if 1 million of them ride the subway ONCE a day (it's probably more like twice, but again, I'm trying to you paint you in the best possible light, MTA) that's $2 million PER DAY in your pocket. That's $10 MILLON PER WEEK IF WE DON'T COUNT SATURDAY AND SUNDAY. THAT'S $40 MILLION PER MONTH. ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU CAN'T PUT, OH, TWO MORE TRAINS ON THE TRACKS DURING MY MORNING COMMUTE FOR $40 MILLION A MONTH? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? ARE YOU USING ACTUAL PAPER DOLLAR BILLS TO FILTER THE COFFEE IN YOUR OFFICE KITCHEN OR POT THE PLANT AT THE RECEPTION DESK OR PAPER THE WALLS OF YOUR CONFERENCE ROOM?

FUCK. YOU.

And naturally, the real solution is for me to leave my house 15 minutes earlier each morning. I feel rather indignant about that - I shouldn't HAVE to - but fine. Just because I can conceivably get somewhere on time in 30 minutes doesn't mean that the MTA WANTS TO MAKE ITSELF USEFUL FOR THINGS LIKE EFFICIENT TRANSIT. Good thing they do other helpful things like have nice stations and functioning speaker systems in their - wait a minute. So I suppose I must choose to begin to account for their delinquency by cutting into my precious morning minutes and leaving earlier. That does not seem worth $2 a ride to me.

Phew. I feel a centimeter better. If you read that whole thing, you win.

In other less irate news, I'm thrilled it's Friday. I need to catch up on some sleep. Had a nice chat with the ol' bf last night, but we were up pretty late. He's a gem though, that guy. I'm pretty crazy about him.

Tonight: A show I've been meaning to see. Tomorrow: The beach! Sunday: We rest.

gotta be fo me

I have no idea who still reads this thing. Even when I send the boyfriend the link to share with him one thing or another, I'm pretty sure he only skims through to see if his name is in the entry. He's like that. Maybe I'll start calling him Rick in these entries so that he never finds his name when he skims through. I would delight in that in a mean way. I'm like that.

Kidding, Rick. Love.

Being back in an environment that suits my headspace has been really soft and comfortable and feels like getting into bed after a long day of swimming and running around the park. I'm now able to be productive in personal ways that are hugely important to me and I don't feel like I'm suffocating under the weight of anyone else's insanity. That's also hugely important. I don't take so well to insanity. I'm also enjoying my life outside the work place a lot more than I was befo. It's important for a lot of reasons including things like friends and lovers.

Along with this blessing of freedom comes the curse of freedom. You who struggle with that dichotomy know what I mean. Luckily, I'm older, wiser, more patient, less angry and generally more capable than I was when I used to have the freedom of this job, so I anticipate that I will wear it better than I did before.

I've been reading a lot of blogs lately. New blogs, old blogs. It's an oh-so-favorite pastime. I love getting hooked on some unsuspecting stranger's, oh, say, May 2004 entries and reading until my eyes cross. I'm captivated by getting 'a sense' of a person. I realized this about myself last night when I began asking my friend Steve P. question after question about his father and his parents and what they're like and how they relate to him and to one another. I could ask anyone anything all day long. I thrive off asking people questions and listening to their answers and discovering that I have more questions based on what they've said. I'm curious. It's my nature. I oft (too oft) fantasize about officially conducting an interview series so that I'd feel a little less creepy about stopping Interesting Person X on the street and asking them at least ten questions about where they're going, what they're doing there, why they're making that face, if they know they're making that face, and how many siblings they have.

So the blog phenomenon (can it be called a phenomenon? i say no.) is right up my alley. I don't get to learn things on my terms necessarily, which is its own wonderful struggle, but I do get to absorb a great great deal of information about a person's experience as a human on this planet. And I can glean even more information about them based on what they haven't chosen to share. It's drool-inspiring. And if we're all lucky, they've got photos too!

But it also gives me a strange inferiority thing, the over-reading of blogs. Makes me sit and ponder whether or not I'm doing enough creatively with my own writing. Makes me wonder whether or not I actually have anything interesting to contribute to this interconnectedweb or whether I'm just writing to hear the click of my own keyboard. Does it fucking matter? Naturally not. And this thing's gotta be just fo me. Ya know? I'm this. I'm this exact person.

Twenty-seven, and all of you who've been there done that can commence eye rolling now, is definitely the age which, as it approaches, has caused me the most reflection and the most well-well-well-look-who's-actually-getting-older-and-cooler sense of myself than any other approaching age has in the past. And I've probably said that every single year since I was 15 and I'll probably say it for at least the next 90.

Comin' Up

A lot goin on.

Last Thursday, September 27, marked an anniversary which I let completely pass me by without realizing what was what. It wasn't until the following morning that it dawned on me that I'd missed the day. It's an important day to me, although it might seem like a goofy thing to keep track of. It is the day I started Weight Watchers and began the ol' journey toward losing 100 pounds. Yip. Tis. And Thursday marked five years since that day. It's a big deal for me. Five years later, I weigh myself maybe once a month, I write down what I eat so I can remember it later when I'm wondering if I should bite into six donuts at once, but beyond that, I don't do much tracking or record keeping anymore. I'm able to make good food choices naturally and best of all, I still exercise. And I enjoy it. Oh yeah and I've kept the weight off. So I'd say that mess has been cleaned up and cleared away to the best of my ability. Five years later, done and done.

I was on vacation last week, as you'll recall, and it was loveleh. I had a really great week off, got a lot done, reorganized myself in a variety of ways, did plenty of exercising, cleaning, tidying, dish-doing, hung with mah man, watched tv and performed in our shows and ate good meals and he took me on a little day trip up the Hudson and it was really a nice time. And this morning I woke up very comfortable with the idea of returning the work force. New-old job is just fine.

Naturally, as things go, I will have to save my pennies for a few weeks (or for the rest of time) and be frugal and aware of what I'm spending, since I'm desperate to pay off some debts by November 1. And there will be an adjustment because I won't get out of work until 7pm every day. But listen, I like this place and I don't mind the work and the job serves its purpose in my life which is to afford me the fiscal opportunity to play in comedy shows for no paychecks.

I'm intent on turning 27 (which will happen on November 7) as a confident, comfortable, joyful, relaxed young lady. I feel older and more self-organized and self-aware than ever. I love the month of October, I love the fall, I love that guy I sleep with (his friends read this blog so I'll spare you the lovestruck language), I love my cat, and I'm feeling well-rested and eager to tackle the next.