Don't Shoot!

I feel I should preface this story by preluding that I've been reading a book, Weekends at Bellevue by Julie Holland, M.D. It's a recount of her nine years as a resident at Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital, and basically a testament to the truth that EVERY person in New York City is in some way off their rocker... I try to hide the title when I'm reading on the subway, so as not to spark any crazy person's memory that they wish to recount with little ole' me. (This happens more often than you'd expect)

Tonight on my usual trip home I was pleased to find myself on a new subway car. There's a really cool Target Store advertisement on the outside, and red and white pictures of hands holding the subway rails on the inside. Also, the end seats fold up when no one is on them. So, because I can't resist trying new things, I make a point to sit in the end chair that folds out. (I'm sure it's actual purpose is to make room for the thousands of people; not to entertain me.) I can tell this fabulous black (and I've decided should probably be British) gay man and I are both eyeing the parallel seats, but we end up both getting one. I'm glad it worked out for the both of us. Any way, I'm toting my computer bag today, which is stuffed to the brim with books/scripts/extra-electronics-that-I-thought-I'd-charge-at-work-but-just-didn't. So, I'm sort of focused on taking the pressure off my back as I sit up, but really the bag's taking up most of the seat. During my fidget session with this overbearing bag, I almost miss my transfer stop. I mean, I was only going one stop away, I probably shouldn't have sat down at all.

So, when I hear, "Please stand clear of the closing doors," I leap up to make my way off. Suddenly there is a loud BANG! Here's my thought process: 1. Look around this car, because some one's shooting. 2. No one's standing with a gun, so we ran over a mammoth. 3. Well, we're still coming to a stop, so maybe it's just random subway noise? 4. Why is everyone looking at me?

Turns out, when I stood up, and in my haste not to miss my transfer, I've forgotten that I fought to sit in the cool foldy-uppy seat. My seat snapped up on its own and every passenger on that train is looking at this crazy girl with the large "bag woman" purse who was slouched in the seat. Including the two deaf women, who I'm not sure that they decided I was the source of some calamity, but I'm sure it's just obvious by the stares of every other innocent subway rider.

I hastily apologize, "Oh. Sorry. That was my fault," with a sort of half-hearted gesture toward the chair. On my way out the door I get a wink from the fabulous gay man across from me. Well, at least someone found it amusing, because I'll probably be receiving a summons for causing public panic.

Whoops! I forgot to include where you can find these and more hidden treaSSEUres. http://www.drseussart.com/

Nick From Penn State

I found these two lovely ladies while doing research for the next Horse Trade show.

On your right we have Dr. Seuss's Sunbathing bird. As we move along, on our left Theodore S. Geigel's (Dr. Seuss' real name) Martini Bird. I think they're my new mascots.

Also a part of my wonderful day was an adventure out to the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building, which is a research and exhibit portion of the New York Library system. If you've ever seen a picture of the New York library with lions at it's front, that's this guy. I got to use the microfiche! Made some copies so that good ole' Bill and Gordon at Wings Theater can read themselves the good news.

Some headlines from The New York Post

April 12, 1921:

"Now Maple Pails Hang by the Trees"

"Ex-Empress of Germany Dead"

"France Will Act to Impress Germany"

"President Still Writing Message; To Read It to

Congress To-morrow"

"Russian Border Closed to Americans"

"British Airmen to Explore for South American Oil"

"Getting On at the Office"

Warning, Teaser: I am running on the glow of a marvelous date spent in Union Square last night! ... Stay tuned.

Am I Russian?

I went to the Russian bodega today. I never buy a lot there, I'm a sort of really random grocery shopper. Anyhow, when the guy was totaling it up, he just started talking away in Russian to me. I honestly thought he was talking to the cashier behind me. He finishes, looks up at me. I had obviously been asked a question. So, I replied, "umm, what's my total?" Then the situation registered to him. "Oh, you don't speak Russian? I thought you did. You look like you speak Russian." So, I assured him, "I don't think I do." Well, as he continues to bag my groceries and such, he explains to me that I should really ask my family if we speak Russian. Then the other cashier asks, "Do you watch soccer?" I replied, nope. So, he laughs and says, "You're not Russian... Do you drink vodka straight?" I said, of course. "Well, maybe you're a recovering Russian." So, now my groceries are packed, and I'm gathering myself to go. Thank yous are exchanged and my cashier says, "Now you just go home and figure out who you are."

Gezundheit and Gay Astrology

Today I ran across a free gay astrology site, Gemini&Scorpio. I'm actually not gay. While I was doing research on a gay burlesque (okay, it is ironic) that played at the theatre company I work for, I found out lots of information about my sign, Scorpio. As it turns out, not only is our animal the scorpion, duh. But, the hawk, the eagle, and the phoenix. Scorpio is a fierce flying machine.
Actually, if you ask me, none of this makes any sense. How do scorpions and birds fit in together? Wouldn't the latter love to eat the former? One crawls around the desert and the other flies around bursting into flames then rebirthing itself (or is that just the Harry Potter version?) I like it, but I don't get it.

In other news, I'm going to be starring in a movie... Okay, that might be a little misleading. However, a couple of weeks ago I was walking during torrential downpour to the theater. As I am one of the few brave enough to forge the storm, there were not many other people on the streets. However, there was a man walking across the street that immediately reminded me of Russell Crowe. Well, as I losing the battle against my umbrella, the wind, and the rain I did not notice the movie tents that had suddenly sprung up around the Village. I somehow scuttled to in front of the before mentioned man and happened to hear him sneeze. So, I turned to say gezundheit and locked eyes with THE Russell Crowe, sort of stammered my blessing and walked away with eyes as big as tennis balls.
Also, I think Anthony Rapp walked by me while I ate a sandwich on the stoop of the theater. The Village is a happening place for people that look like, and I prefer to assume are, celebrities.

THIS IS WHERE THIS GIRL LIVES ->

I guess this is my inauguration into the world of blog. Thank you for having me! We have a little bit of catching up to do. So, I'll give you a highlight of some recent outrageous adventures and great things that have happened.

Today's adventure is brought to you by Hormones, fueled by Estrogen. It was a normal day (always a relative term in this girl's life) of rehearsal and transit. The subway was sort of exceptionally packed, though. I think I've finally experienced being an active/tired part of the New Yorker's afternoon traffic commute. As it is rainny and a little chilly, I opted for the long-sleeved hoody tee option. This particular one dons my hometown symbol, the Longhorn.

I could feel her eyes on me the moment I stepped over to share the center pole. This woman kept eyeing my Texas advertisement with the air of someone familiar to the Lone Star. Finally she chirpped up and asked if I went to UT. I explained, "Actually, I grew up in Austin." (A response I had already prepared, because I could just feel she was going to ask me something of the sort.) We chatted about her being from Dallas, they're in town until Sunday, helping her son move up, her other son's already here... Well, that last statement caught my attention. I asked his age, the burough he lives in, and when I got to his job, she gets the attention of someone behind me. Yep, Scott* was standing right behind me listening. Well, it turns out Scott is an actor. Of course he's gay. Well, at least she was pleasant, you know. Nice to run into someone from the big state all the way out here.

So, on my way from the subway where I've successfully and awkwardly followed Scott and his parents for two blocks, I find myself walking beside a beautiful man. As it was raining, and I am so brilliant as to keep my umbrella on me, I was protected. As he obviously needs me in his life, he was not as prepared and ended up getting a little ahead of me upon our walk. But, as we almost simultaneously rounded the corner, I decided it was my challenge to keep up with him and give this poor gentleman every opportunity to speak to me. (I just decided he wanted to.) So, he speeds up. I actually have to sort of speedwalk to keep up with this drenched fellow. Then, I decided I'd give him a little incentive to keep up with me. So, I get a little ahead. Mind you, I'm practically jogging to stay just far enough ahead to casually turn my head in response to any fabulously witty line he may want to do deliver. (Ahem, none came.)

Well, we have successfully walked together to my front door (I mean, I side-stalked him). But, I remember I need to move my car because tomorrow is street cleaning. Oh, but that's okay, because there was a spot back there, I'll just pull up and park on the designated Thursday side. Oh no, I really want him to see where I live. So, I look longingly up at my apartment... That's right, I do. As if to send a silent neon sign that blinks, "THIS IS WHERE THIS GIRL LIVES. YOU CAN FIND HER HERE ->." (Um, this happened under an umbrella) I regretfully pass the apartment to open my car and gracefully fumble to close my umbrella over the open driver's side door. In my split-second debate between yet another parking ticket and a possible oh, I don't know, love note or doorstep-placed single rose, the damn Parking Authority wins again.

At least he knows I have a car. (?)