Daily Musings

But I Still Love Technology

September 27, 2012

My phone kept offering me a free month of a special feature called voicemail-to-text.

I kept ignoring it until last week when it automatically started the free trial even though I kept saying NO NO NO GO AWAY.

This feature boasts the ability to translate a voicemail into text so I can look at my phone and just read what the person said instead of pushing a button and listening to them. Because, you know, I’m looking for ways to be even lazier.

As you would expect, rarely do people speak clearly when leaving a voicemail so the translated text that pops up on my phone is always confusing, ridiculous and hilarious.

Behold! According to the voicemail-to-text feature, voicemails left on my phone this month!
By: Laura’s Phone

From a realtor regarding an apartment:

Hi Laura houses on my name is christine.

From my mom:

I have a line jason kind in the plastic thing not realize fresh want depending on what you need okay bye

From a realtor:

Hello this is my second New York how are you I’m at so if you get home black man…he gave me your number.

From a realtor:

I’m calling you because you were you know I’m here in my apartment and I understand that you will be moving into dinner and you looking for a place…ideally lumber the apartment.

From Alayna:

I just got done student teaching in now I’m heading to a cell so that’s my story.

From the yoga studio calling about me leaving my necklace in the locker room:

Hi laura this is lance calling back from the command.

From my mom:

Hey this is your mother and your father affordable jet direct at give me a call bye hi would you give a call me bye.

From my boyfriend:

Hello Dave, well I’m sorry that’s not feeling well and that you don’t have to leave or but I think I think.

From my boyfriend:

Hey Rich, just calling to check in real quick before I jumped in the class…hope you’re having a good evening I’m asking if I ran the yoga mail and your show so I’ll speak to you later.

From my boyfriend:

Hey dad, give me a call.


Yoga Teacher Training/Also Whitney Houston

September 18, 2012

As part of my ‘work hard/do things I love’ thing that is my life, I finally admitted how much I love doing yoga and also how I think I would rock if I TAUGHT yoga. This is based on the fact that when I’m in class, I am easily distracted by people doing things incorrectly and I want to tell them how to fix it but that would make me a jerk. BUT A SMART JERK?

My problem with yoga teacher training up until this point is that I don’t have a specific kind of yoga I love enough to dedicate that much time to it. I loooooooooove Bikram yoga but I dislike Bikram as a person and I don’t think that doing his sequence every day is in fact all the work out you need to like, cure all your diseases/problems (SORRY.) I also don’t think a yoga studio should charge you for water and my current Bikram yoga studio does and…JUST STOP WITH THAT. IS THIS RUSSIA!?

I like vinyasa a lot but then I tend miss the heat so then I combined the two and took hot vinyasa and achieved perfection pretty much but then thought I might also love a calmer class that’s not so hot/death defying/it just depends on my mood which shifts minute to minute and WHAT ON EARTH DO I DO?

I’ll tell you.

I signed up for a 200 hr yoga teacher training at my old amazing yoga studio which is being led by five different teachers who specialize in different things:

1. A student of Dharma Mittra. (This dude can stand on his head without his hands. Is that a good idea? I DON’T KNOW.)

2. A dude who just came back from India where he studied with B K S Iyengar himself. I cannot even with this.

3. One of Jimmy Barkan’s students AKA hot yoga hot yoga hot hot hot yoga!

4. A woman who has been around forever and specializes in prenatal/postnatal yoga. FASCINATING TO ME.

5. This other guy who teaches the hardest class I have ever taken and I’m just completely obsessed. Also he taught me how to jump forward from down dog to the top of my mat without making a sound and have you heard me walk down stairs ever? My mother used to liken it to an elephant clomping its way through the safari. So…noiseless jumping? A MODERN DAY MIRACLE.

So, anyway.

As of October, I’ll be participating in training two weekends a month until February and taking class a zillion times a week and learning about anatomy and alignment and how to lead a yoga class. (I’m guessing I shouldn’t walk in and just scream HEYYYYYYYYYYY YOU GUYS which is what I do most other places.)

I’m not viewing this necessarily as a career move but a possible thing I might like to do some day once in awhile and a way to deepen my practice and stop being afraid of the wall. (I hate going upside down against the wall. Don’t ask me why, it causes panic. CHILDHOOD TRAUMA? PROBABLY.)

I was explaining all this yoga teacher training stuff to my cousin Tom on the phone yesterday.

TOM: That is so great! You’ll learn how to teach all different kinds of class!

LAURA: Yeah. Pretty excited.

TOM: Like, you could put on some crazy music and teach a really hard sweaty class! AND I’LL BE THERE.

LAURA: Great!

TOM: Or you can put on like slow jazz and lead a smooth low-key class AND I WILL SHOW UP.

LAURA: Great. I’m not sure slow jazz and yoga are a thing…

TOM: Or you could teach a class where all we listen to is Whitney Houston and I will come and just cry on my mat the whole time because she’s dead.

LAURA: Stop talking. But thanks for your support.

Consider This A Life Update.

September 14, 2012

What’s up dudes? And by dudes, I mean my mom, because I’m pretty sure she’s the only one left reading this. When of course she’s not bothering me to blog something in the first place. WHY DON’T YOU BLOG ANYMORE?, etc.


Two weeks ago something that I thought was a cold turned into the nastiest sinus infection of all time (which took me awhile to realize because I’ve never had a sinus infection, I don’t think?) and I ruined Labor Day weekend by basically just sitting around inside THE ENTIRE TIME in sweatpants moaning about how life is horrible. Also I ate a lot of gnocchi because it was the only thing I wanted. I even lost my appetite for vegetable dumplings and my boyfriend was incredulous like, if you don’t feel like eating Thai food, I don’t think I know you at all.

I was like bro, I don’t even KNOW MYSELF.

After about ten days of daily gnocchi and Sudafed, I was back to normal. But as we all know, ‘normal’ is a relative term here.

My latest temp job is ending shortly and along these lines, I’ve been investing a significant amount of time into finding a stable, full-time job with you know, health insurance and stuff. Possibly paid vacation. Which I think, if I ever experienced it, WOULD BLOW MY MIND.

Temping (much like nannying) was one of a few survival jobs I sort of fell into when I was young and moved to New York City to be an actor. I was really lucky and found some great situations that gave me the flexibility to audition when I needed to and the 9-5 grind was much easier for me than waitressing or bartending.

But then my life became less and less about auditioning and more about my office job and about doing improv and comedy stuff after work.

I’m realizing now how fulfilled I am by that set up and it shocks me. My 22 year old self who used to walk around the office rolling her eyes is stunned because I don’t mind working a day job. In fact, I really enjoy the stability and my current set up in particular brings me lots of joy, lots of challenge, lots of security.

I’ve decided it’s time to move beyond the world of temping, one foot in, one foot out.

Also, health insurance, amiriteladiez?

Figuring this all out has been difficult. It challenges what I thought to be true of myself: someone who seeks a job in a creative field vs. someone who has a ‘regular’ job that allows her to pursue creative things on the side.

The process has been confusing because the identity of myself as actor/performer is an identity that I’ve held for nearly twenty years which, let’s be honest, is the craziest thing. I thought rearranging that idea of myself would take me a few weeks and I’d move on but if I’m being honest, it’s taken me over a year. And it still baffles me sometimes and throws me for a loop.

If I’m not that, what am I?

It’s deep guys, am I right?

OH GOD. Let’s go back to talking about gnocchi.

Why is it so delicious? Is it hard to make at home? Should I give it a try this weekend? Or should I stop making pasta because ENOUGH ALREADY, LAURA.

What are you guys up to this weekend?

My boyfriend and I are exploring the fine neighborhood of Williamsburg this evening which is so hip it scares me. I am super excited! Maybe I’ll find some local organic free range gnocchi there.


On Hard Work

August 1, 2012

In college between my freshman and sophomore year, I stayed up in Buffalo for the summer and worked as an orientation aide. That meant I just welcomed weekend after weekend of freshly graduated high school seniors and put on skits and gave tours and screamed at them that college was awesome.

I think.

It’s kind of hard to remember now.

I wanted that job SO BADLY.

I don’t even know why!

It was actually a coveted position with hundreds of students applying for just twenty or so jobs. I interviewed with a panel of people and for the ‘creative expression of why I wanted to be an orientation aide’ part of it, I stood up and sang a song I made up the lyrics to, set the tune of Christina Aguilera’s “What A Girl Wants” about why I wanted the job.

(A song I had rehearsed and tweaked for WEEKS prior.)

You guys, that was an actual experience in my life, singing that song at a job interview.

The entire panel of interviewers went immediately slackjawed.

Then they hired me on the spot.

The next summer, I lived with my parents on Long Island and commuted into the city twice a week to take ballet at Barnard and to study with my voice teacher’s voice teacher who lived and teached in midtown, a sassy opera singer with a slight Southern accent who would constantly accuse me of not standing up straight enough.

“YOU WANT YOUR TITS ON THE COUNTER, LAURA!” she would yell grabbing her own enormous chest. “TITS UP ON THE COUNTER!”

(I can’t tell you this story in person because I have never said the T word for boobs out loud before in my life as I find it crass and horrible. But that piece of the story was too amazing to share.)

I couldn’t afford to pay my voice teacher’s voice teacher with money so we made a deal: once a week she would teach me and once a week, I would clean her apartment/studio.

A few weeks into the arrangement, she remarked that the floors weren’t getting as clean as she’d like, all that New York City grime and all.

“How ’bout you use some of them rags under the sink instead of a mop? Put some cleaner down and just go to town scrubbin’!”

Included with the rags under the sink were some of her husband’s old t-shirts and some of her own old holey underwear.

It was honestly the biggest underwear I had ever seen. Because she was, you know, an opera singer and they are generally a large people.

So I used those ‘rags’ to clean her floor, often finding it easiest to first splash some cleaner down as she had suggested, then put one foot on each rag and ‘skate’ around the apartment.

And so this is how that summer looked:

waiting tables on Long Island at night

voice lessons and ballet in the city during the day

once a week spending an entire afternoon ‘ice skating’ around an opera singer’s apartment on her very large underpants

I seem to have forgotten how much time and effort I have put into things in the past when I really, really wanted them.

I honed the lyrics to that Christina Aguilera parody for so long and re-wrote my cover letter and application a handful of times because I wanted that job so badly.

I wanted to learn to sing and dance so desperately that I BARTERED cleaning services in order to do so.


When I have cared, I have exerted myself past what I thought was possible.

It seems that a year or two ago when I changed my mind about what I wanted to pursue in my life (a musical theatre career most notably), the ‘working’ towards that goal petered out as well. And that would be okay except that the ‘not putting forth effort’ thing seems to have translated to other aspects of my life as well which is A VERY SNEAKY THING.

I never considered myself a lazy person and it’s true that I do work a lot and I’m involved in lots of activities and la dee da.


I’m having a hard time gaining momentum to pursue anything else seriously.

I can’t seem to jumpstart creative projects UNLESS they are easily attainable (which, most are not!) and/or I can achieve them on a clear cut path that requires effort but not too much of it. Even in terms of more longevity with my day job, I find it hard to fight for permanence. It was always fine for me to coast by as a temp because WHO KNOWS WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS?

But that’s not really…helping me.

Most things came pretty easy to me as a child and I immediately discarded things that didn’t because I didn’t enjoy the feeling of not being good at something. I always liked being the best and winning and being praised and all the other things that go with being a ‘gifted’ child. (Whatever the hell that means. In my case it meant a general sense of not having to work very hard and still produce above average results.)

I was (am!) a very sore loser and due to my sensitivity could not at ALL lose or come in second place without erupting in tears or losing complete control. This was very scary to me as a kid and so I naturally gravitated towards things I knew I could excel at to avoid intense feelings disappointment, embarrassment, frustration. I never learned how to properly work through those feelings so I tried to minimize experiencing them. Note: NOT THE BEST IDEA.

Actual critique from a music director in college: “Laura, I wonder what would happen if you actually tried LESS? If you actually made some MISTAKES? Then we might be able to get to something that’s interesting.

(Okay fine, he didn’t have to say it QUITE LIKE THAT but he had a point.)It has been hard work as an adult to do things that I enjoy that also might scare me.

To pursue things that sound interesting but do not come easily to me.

To work hard. To work REALLY hard. To sacrifice. To stop taking what’s there because…it’s there. And it’s easier.

To fall flat on my face in a puddle of my own terribleness.

In my early twenties once I realized this was the case, I made a habit of doing things outside my comfort zone pretty regularly just to exercise that muscle, getting used to taking risks, trying to be okay with making mistakes and not being perfect.

But over the past year or so, I’ve really let that fall away. I become easily frustrated and find myself giving up on things because they aren’t within reach.

I’ve decided that I am wayyyyyy too young to be surrendering because life is too hard so why bother blah I’ll just be over here watching mindless television, etc.

I’m still not sure exactly what I should pursue full throttle, but I’ve decided to just treat everything that comes my way as worth it until I know for sure. I’d like to just GO FOR THINGS without agonizing about how hard it seems and what’s the point. I want to put in the time and effort I used to, to push myself past what is comfortable.

Maybe I needed this year or two to just chill out and relax after so many years of pursuit and accomplishment and GO GO GO.

But, I think it’s time for vacation to end.

I’ve definitely thrown myself willingly into hard work before. I know I can again.

I’m just not sure this time there will be as many old pairs of underpants.

But it’s definitely possible.


Apparently I Am Less Inflamed Now.

July 25, 2012

Vacation was amazing.

I have photos to share but I left my phone charger/USB cable thing somewhere…probably it’s still on vacation. Probably it’s sitting in a rocking chair on the back deck taking in the view of the ocean with a glass of white wine which is how I spent EVERY SINGLE DAY LAST WEEK.


Anyway, on the plane to South Carolina my boyfriend and I read an article about how gluten and dairy are probably killing us slowly from the inside.

This is not news to me.

The dairy thing in particular I know to be true because my body changes as soon as I eat it (AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY), which is why I try not to (and didn’t for close to three years, HOWWWWWW DID I DO THAT?!).

So I don’t drink milk but sometimes it’s like, cheese. You know?

Grilled cheese? Pizza? Burrata mozzarella? I mean, life just isn’t the same without these things.

Anyway, gluten is another subject entirely because…

Do you know about my love affair with pasta?

I mean, do you?

If you know me in real life, you probably do.

Because I eat it all the time.

We’re actually married.

Well, we would be. If it were legal to marry a carbohydrate. But those Republicans keep blocking legislation. UGH.

(Early on in our relationship, my boyfriend was like ‘You know there are other foods that exist, right?’ and I was like SHUT UP LET’S KISS BUT ONLY AFTER I FINISH THIS LINGUINE…)

Anyway, if gluten causes inflammation in the body and disease and a host of other things, I’m probably dying any day now due to EPC (Excessive Pasta Consumption), a condition I’ve suffered from probably since the age of Whenever I Started Eating Solid Food.

I mean, dang. I could eat that stuff all the time.

(Also wait, if dairy and gluten are killing us all, wouldn’t the entire country of Italy be dead? JUST SAYIN’.)

It’s probably true that if I’m sluggish and inflamed and dying, I’m used to it and I don’t know any other way of existing.


But my boyfriend was intrigued and decided to go one week without gluten and then switch and go a week without dairy to see if he noticed any differences.

(This is not necessarily difficult for most people but I think for us as vegetarians, it requires a bit more thought as cutting out gluten and/or dairy reduces our options even further.)

I’ve joined in on the game because, whatever I’m competitive and you just try to say I can’t live without pasta and I WILL PROVE YOU WRONG.

I’m on Day 3.

I have so far noticed nothing.

Well, I’ve noticed that it’s easier to give up gluten than I thought, even as a vegetarian. Turns out with the exception of pasta, I don’t eat much of it.

Plus, Thai food is mostly gluten-free and if pasta makes up 60% of my diet, Thai food makes up the other 40%.

Or maybe 38%.

There should be 2% left in my diet for like, the occasional banana.

Or coffee.


I already assume my conclusion after this 2 week experiment will be “Reduce but not Remove Entirely” because again, what is life for if not for the every day occasional pasta/cheese indulgence?

You may tell me that I can eat healthier kinds of pasta! Whole wheat! Or if I want to be gluten-free, brown rice or quinoa pasta!

Can I tell you something?

I would rather not eat it at all if I can’t have plain ol’ bad for you white flour pasta.

It just isn’t worth it to me.


It’s blasphemous.

My Italian forefathers have declared it so.

Um. Alright. So now that we know I’m just over here eating lettuce and rice and going out of my mind, I’ll let you guys go have a good day.






This Is An Actual Thing.

July 24, 2012

A co-worker’s father passed away recently and I was asked to find a floral arrangement to send from all of us.

While searching, I found this:

It’s called ‘All Dogs Go To Heaven’ and 1-800-Flowers tells me that it can be sent for the “loss of a loved one or a beloved pet”.

I actually cannot imagine a better thing to send in the middle of your grief because, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

If someone sent this to me, I would freaking laugh for days.

And you know, that’s kind of awesome.





This One Time I Gave Up On Athletic Pursuits and No One Was Surprised.

July 2, 2012

My cousin Tom came into town last weekend for far too brief a time. (COME BAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.)

Tom has lots of sisters and we were celebrating two of them with a high school graduation and a Sweet 16 party.

My boyfriend is from the South and had never attended a Sweet 16 party before and was very excited and I have to say, Tom’s sister’s party didn’t quite live up to expectations because unfortunately, Tom’s family isn’t quite trashy enough to throw a really elaborate wedding-esque Sweet 16. Nobody wore a ballgown. There wasn’t even a candle ceremony. I mean, thanks for nothing you guys, now my boyfriend thinks I’m a liar.

Tom’s flight was delayed on the way in due to the outrageous thunderstorms happening in NYC the very minute he was due to land and also maybe there was a fire in an air traffic control tower? (I have not verified this.) So Tom’s flight circled for awhile and then landed in the Rochester airport where he stayed for five hours drinking Labatt Blue which is the beer we used to drink in college in Buffalo HOLLA UPSTATE NEW YORK.

We partied until Tom showed up (at 10:30 PM). He ate a huge plate of eggplant parmesan, danced to Beyoncé and then we all packed up and went home.

The next morning, for some reason (my brother, who runs marathons) we decided to go kayaking.

I feel like I’m one of those people who always gets excited by the IDEA of things and then once I actually do them, if I find it difficult, I just give up.

Is that the worst quality in a person!?!?!?

It’s because I want to be the bestest at everything.


Now, I don’t know if you know this about me but I don’t have a lot of upper body strength. This is a thing for most women in general except Madonna so I don’t feel too badly about this.

So my brother Paul, sister Deb, boyfriend Awesome Sauce and Tom and I went kayaking on Saturday morning.

Paul asked if we wanted single kayaks or tandem.

“Ooooooo!” I marveled to my boyfriend. “LET’S GO TANDEM! LET’S KAYAK TOGETHER! IT’S SO ROMANTIC!!!”

My boyfriend thought about it for half a second and very seriously said, “I don’t want to share a kayak with you.”

“DID WE JUST BREAK UP!?” I wondered.

I decided then that Tom and I would share a kayak.



My boyfriend thought about this for half a second and very seriously said, “That is not a good idea.”

Now, to be fair, in case my boyfriend sounds heartless, a tandem kayak is apparently a lot harder to control. And since Tom and I do not, um, kayak??? on a regular basis, it probably was not a good idea for both of us to be in the same one.

Still, we protested.

“WE CAN TOTALLY DO IT,” I said, lying.

“WE ARE VERY ATHLETIC,” Tom said, lying.

“I’m not worried about your athletic ability,” my boyfriend said. “I’m worried about your collective attention span.”

Tom and I just looked at each other and silently agreed that he had a point.

We would probably concentrate on rowing together for about half a second and then one of us would probably shout LOOK AT THAT SHINY THING and the other one would say THAT REMINDS ME OF A BROADWAY SHOW and then the boat would tip over and we would drown.

So, you win this time, boyfriend. You win.

Single kayaks for all.

I started off okay. Paul who runs marathons and Deb who kind of has amazing Madonna arms and my boyfriend who is just sort of so strong that it MAKES ME ANGRY took off ahead of me and Tom. So we were kind of split up from the beginning. But whatever, Tom and I had lots to catch up on! Moonrise Kingdom and how great a movie it is! People we know from college! That one thing we’re thinking about doing sometime!!!

My boyfriend was right in that every few minutes we would kind of absently forget we were IN A BOAT ROWING ON THE WATER and our kayaks would just smash into each other because, you know, you have to, sort of, watch where you’re going.

I also want to point out that this entire time I was wearing a Little Bo Peep hat. A straw hat with a damn WHITE RIBBON flowing off the back that my mom had hung on one of the closet doors in the house on a nail, as decoration. (Because that is one of many adorable things my mom does so everyone knows it’s summer. DECORATIVE HATS ON NAILS!!! My mom is really into the seasons.)

So we’re rowing along and talking about things and then I realize that rowing a kayak is kind of…tiring? And no one has suggested we turn around yet and is this going to be a problem because ow my shoulders and my boyfriend says I’m not using my core properly and it’s like I WOULD USE THAT IF I KNEW WHAT IT WAS.

Um. I maybe…gave up? In this moment?

As in, I just sat in my kayak on the water and rested the paddle across my body and just…waited?

I think I was hoping that somehow the kayak would move itself.

And it would occasionally drift a bit, especially when a boat went by. (BECAUSE WE WERE KAYAKING IN A HARBOR AND BOATS WERE ALL AROUND AND NEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR WHEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVER YOU ARE!!!) But I really wasn’t going anywhere. Because…you have to PROPEL YOURSELF, which is the point of kayaking, I imagine.

So I would kind of talk myself into it and get a good row going and try to use my core but OH MY MUSCLES WERE BURNING EVERYWHEREEEEEEEE. Then I would stop and rest and blink a few times. Then I would start again.

Tom tried to distract me from my upper arm pain by singing songs.

“LET’S SING TO PASS THE TIME!” he suggested.

(Which makes you think that we were doing something awful because when I need to ‘sing to pass the time’, I am wishing something horrendous will soon be over – riding to the 39th floor in a crowded elevator, for example.) I mean, doesn’t ‘kayak in the harbor’ sound beautiful and relaxing? It does! Until you do it for an hour and then it becomes physically painful and you actually need to PASS THE TIME so it will be OVER SOON AHHHHHHHHHHHH.)

My brother Paul later said that every now and then he would hear something in the distance and think “What the…?” and it was me and Tom, singing a Whitney Houston duet.

I mean, I do what I need to do, you know?

I became irrationally angry with myself about kayaking. I was angry that it wasn’t easy for me. I was angry that my muscles were hurting. I was angry that once again I was the whiny 8 year old who wanted to go home from trick or treating because it was drizzling a little bit of rain and I was cold. (THAT ACTUALLY HAPPENED. WHAT KID GIVES UP FREE CANDY TO GO BACK INSIDE AND WATCH THE MARY TYLER MOORE SHOW WITH HER DAD? THIS KID!!!)

Ah. I guess there’s part of us that never changes, amirite?

I wanted to like kayaking so much. I figured we had barely gone any distance and yet it FELT SO LONG!!! And no one else seemed tired!? HOW COULD THAT BE? (I wasn’t using my core properly. BUT STILL!)

But I made it back to shore, thanks to Whitney Houston and my sister screaming YOU CAN DO IT LAURA!!!! And here is where I leave you with words of inspiration, like how kayaking changed my life in some way, how a kayak is a metaphor for life because sometimes you row straight and sometimes you row in a circle and…


Actually I pretty much decided when it was over that I suck at everything considering we kayaked barely anywhere and I couldn’t do it without wanting to cry.

A few hours after we got home, I got a text from my brother Paul, who runs marathons.

“I Google mapped our kayaking route! We went nearly 4 miles!”

Four. Miles.


I guess I don’t suck at everything.

I just suck at kayaking four miles and you know what?


Tropical Storm Laura’s Brain

June 1, 2012

Welp. Florida was the best thing ever except for maybe a tropical storm decided to show up?

BUT. I got some quality beach time before that happened and who doesn’t love a tropical storm?

(Probably people who are seriously injured in them?)

But when you’re safe, they can be fun and the power went out around 11 pm and I learned how to play the card game ‘Hearts’ by candlelight.

(Speaking of Heart(s), one of my earliest memories from childhood is playing with my brother Paul in a room that was maybe kind of like an attic? It was summer and sunlight was streaming through this attic window catching all the dust mites and maybe Heart’s “These Dreams” was playing on the radio downstairs? Mom? Can you clarify this?

Speaking of, my mom has always made clear that she can’t stand the band Heart because they are devil worshippers. Anyone besides my mom, can you clarify this?)

Anyway, back to the card game Hearts:

New Thing I Learned About Myself!

I am TERRIBLE at Hearts and I am especially terrible when people have NO HEART OR SOUL and decide to continually dump the Queen of Spades on me which, if you know Hearts, means certain death. I’m not saying WHO this person was who had NO MERCY but I might be dating them. MIGHT BE. I ended the game with approximately 800 billion points so I did what any normal person would do and pretended that in Hearts, the most points wins!

(The opposite is of course true.)

But who cares? It’s a tropical storm and I just got a thousand points! I win vacation!


Hm. What else?

In Florida, I drank a lot of coffee and wine but not at the same time, sat on the beach and near a pool, rode a bicycle all around, cooked up some delicious food and played cards terribly.

So, basically I need to go back on vacation as fast as humanly possible because it was amazing.


That’s it for now.

This weekend, I’m going to see the new Wes Anderson movie, rehearse some improv, go to a birthday party in Brooklyn, meet Alayna for brunch and then stare at the wall in a stupor because THAT IS A LOT OF STUFF.

But, fun stuff.

I like summer a whole lot.

(Plus vacation.)

(Plus my new sandals.)

(Plus the person wearing the shoes behind my sandals. What.)

Relationship Pointers

May 24, 2012

YOU GUYS! What’s up!

Lots of shifting around and running around and blah blah over here but that’s annoying to say, right?

My cousin Tom says one of his his least/most favorite thing about people in LA is that when you ask them how they are, they sigh heavily and say “BUSY. I am SOOOOOOO BUSY!”

Now that’s my favorite obnoxious response. How am I? I’m so busy!

Busy doing what, you ask?

Oh, trying to get my boyfriend on a flight to DC for his cousin’s wedding last weekend which doesn’t sound too hard in theory considering my boyfriend:

* is human
* has two working legs

But, you see, the poor thing came down with an awful upper respiratory infection (TWO WEEKS AGO AND IT IS NOT GONE YET WHAT IS HAPPENING) and it very nearly killed him and so, getting him on that plane was very tricky as you can imagine he did not very much feel like traveling. So, psyching him up to go involved a few things and those few things were LOTS OF LIES ABOUT REALITY.

People: sometimes when you need to get on a plane, you need to paint a rosy picture for the sake of your loved one. You tell them everything is great so they believe you, so they do what they need to do and then you reward them at the end with some codeine-laced cough syrup.


(Thank you, Karen Carpenter!)

I will point out that my boyfriend does this to me constantly so I don’t feel so bad about it.

For example, when I believe that the giant bug in his bathroom is going to eat us while we sleep, he tells me that it won’t.


(For love!)

Anyway, walking proved exhausting for my boyfriend because he was kind of coughing all the time (violently and terribly and with much commitment and enthusiasm) and couldn’t breathe very well so I kept telling him that once we got to the airport, he would barely have to walk at all and he could rest which ended up being the biggest lie I ever told and that spiraled into so many lies, so many instances of telling him ONE SECOND, THINGS ARE ABOUT TO BE GREAT! And things would once again turn out to be…not great at all.

“All you need to do is walk through security and then the gate will be RIGHT THERE and you can sit down and cough your brains out! Seriously! Just walk right through AND SIT RIGHT DOWN.”

Nope. Our gate was the furthest gate from security. (Thank you, Delta!)

“Okay, so, all you need to do now is get up and have them scan your boarding pass and then you walk onto the plane and SIT DOWN! HOORAY THAT WILL BE FUN!”

Nope again. Our plane was parked a few miles away from the actual gate so they scanned our boarding passes and then we walked through that tube thing and then we were…outside. On the tarmac. So we could walk some more. !?!?



“Okay, so, all we have to do is actually get on the plane and then our seats will be RIGHT THERE and you can finally sit down! YAYYYYYYYYY.”

No. We were actually seated in the last row on the airplane.

The last row.

Which means we maximized the walking and we maximized my fear of flying by sitting in a very bumpy/loud spot!

(By the way, for people who hate to fly as I do, my new trick with turbulence is to tell myself that turbulence is just like driving on a bumpy road, no big deal, just a few potholes! This works surprisingly well until you realize you are actually hugging yourself while rocking back and forth audibly muttering BUMPY ROAD BUMP ROAD BUMPY ROAD and…congrats! Now you appear crazy!)

I don’t know who to thank for that.

But the point is, I’m learning a lot about relationships. Like, sometimes you are the cheerleader who keeps lying about how much walking is involved and sometimes you are the other party who just kind of tries his best not to completely give up on life as his lungs are giving up on him.

WE MADE IT THOUGH! And there may have been ample doses of cough syrup with codeine! And the wedding was loooooooooooooooooooovely! Oh I love weddings so much.

We are getting on a plane again later tonight, possibly we will walk a lot, possibly we won’t, unfortunately Sick Person is still coughing I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT but now we are headed to the beach and considering it’s been raining every single day this week in NYC, bring it on! Maybe the saltwater will cure him? Maybe wine? I’m out of ideas. But he was prescribed an inhaler as well so at least there are ample opportunities for me to make NERD/DORK/MATH CLUB jokes which is…probably not the nicest thing to do to your boyfriend when he is very sick? (But…an inhaler…it’s just…so easy…)

Anyhow, I hope our travels are a lot better than last year when we took this same exact trip, in fact, same exact flight! Maybe the plane won’t be agazillion hours delayed tonight.

We’ll see.

I’m leaving for the airport shortly and I watched the season finale of Grey’s Anatomy yesterday and that…was not the greatest idea considering it was about…a thing…happening…with a plane….um.


Maybe it’s my turn for the cough syrup? I DO NOT KNOW.

Anyway, happy holiday weekend you guys!

Let’s talk soon.

And walk soon.

And stop coughing.



April 30, 2012

Let’s say you invited someone over, as a houseguest of sorts.

Let’s say this person had to get up and take a shower before you were even awake because they had to get to work.

Let’s say this person woke up and went into the bathroom and saw a bug in the tub that rivaled the bug mentioned here except it was actually worse because it had 4802 legs.

Let’s say your houseguest was running late and really needed to take a shower but couldn’t bring themselves to do it because this bug was crawling all over the tub being DISGUSTING so they just stood in the bathroom for like fifteen minutes in their pajamas silently screaming and possibly quietly crying because they didn’t want to wake you up and they didn’t know how to kill the bug because it was way too big to smush and also this person knows you are all about like, ahimsa and stuff and this is why they never kill bugs when they stay at your place NOT EVEN THAT HUGE SPIDER A FEW WEEKS AGO because you respect life and stuff even if they don’t. I mean, they do, your houseguest DOES RESPECT LIFE, but not usually in insect form and they do feel really badly about that pretty much always. But also, like, we’re talking about bugs. You know?

So this person turns the shower on in an effort to be brave, hoping the water will make the bug go away or hoping to at least try to co-shower with the bug which is just OH MY GOD NO except the water hurts the bug which BAFFLES YOUR HOUSEGUEST BECAUSE WHY ARE YOU IN THE TUB THEN, BUG!? IF YOU HAVE SOME KIND OF WATER PHOBIA? and the bug tries to run away from the water and your houseguest wants to help it because it doesn’t want to drown the bug but it doesn’t know what to do and it’s not sure if getting a broom will wake you up and also, then what is your houseguest going to do with a broom and a bug with 4802 legs?! Surely that bug will just get on that broom and crawl up your houseguest’s arm and then invade multiple cavities in her face and kill her and how guilty are you going to feel, you know?! SO GUILTY. TRUST ME.

So the bug finds refuge on the side of the tub and your houseguest decides to just shower…on the OTHER SIDE OF THE TUB but this proves difficult because she has to stand so she’s constantly staring at the bug making sure it doesn’t move and try to kill her while she shampoos her scalp and water and shampoo are getting in her eyes and UGH. So, your houseguest kind of takes a shower but it isn’t successful because she won’t let herself turn all the way around so she washes 3/4 of her body, eyeing the bug the entire time and then jumps out of the tub and realizes soon after that the bug isn’t moving because it is kind of dead and it turns out that even though bugs get involved with water, they probably shouldn’t, because it kills them and a feeling of horror washes (GET IT?) over your houseguest because she KILLED A BUG when she knows that you very much don’t like things killed.



Your houseguest knows she should scoop up the dead bug and throw it away so you are not greeted with DEAD BUG CARCASS when you awaken except…

She is running late.

And the idea of picking up that bug without a dustpan or something makes her nauseated.

She does not know what to do.

So, MAYBE, because remember, this is purely a hypothetical situation and NOT A REAL ONE, your houseguest grabs a sharpie from your desk and a piece of paper and sticks a note to the bathroom mirror using a bright blue post-it and you wake up a few hours later to find a piece of paper stating:


with no explanation at all except that you MAYBE look into the tub to find a hugeass dead bug and you wonder, probably full of curse words (though you are trying not to curse!) what kind of A**H**** leaves a huge disgusting dead bug in your tub for you to deal with and trust me, your houseguest feels so bad about this but she is scarred for life from waking up to all those creepy crawly legs and silently screaming because she cares about you not to wake you up to deal with it but admittedly, you did have to deal with it when you woke up anyway except now it was soggy and even grosser than usual.


Let’s say this houseguest did this to you…

Even though it wasn’t malicious at all and she realizes she needs to confront her fear and disgust of creepy crawler demons…

I guess my question is…

If someone left you a hugeass dead bug to deal with first thing in the morning with a note taped to your mirror…


Would you still love this person?