There's been a thread on blogs that I read like Diana's Diversions and Marianne Mancusi's blog, Cosmo and Chat, about what to blog about. Should we blog about life, or stick to writing issues? Kathleen O'Reilly has a great blog, where she really discusses what she's read in the paper in an interesting and entertaining way. I love to read her blog, but I'm not sure that I really want to make that the focus of I blog about. Not when I can blog about the travest that is American Idol!
Whoa, Constantine was booted off last night. This is like the third time that I've been right about who was going on American Idol. I totally didn't see that Scott would be in the top three instead of Vonzell. I was sure that the bottom three would be Anthony, Constantine and Scott, with either Scott or Constantine going home. I was pretty certain it was Constantine because of his crappy performance Tuesday night, but believed the person who deserved to go home was Scott for his charisma free, boring peformance of Luther Vandross' Song for My Father. Frankly, I thought his performance would send Luther back into a coma, it was so bad.
Instead Constantine left us. For once, Paula was reduced to being speechless, not that she has anything really useful to say on a good day. I don't think I've ever seen her cry like that before. Loved the way she consoled Constantine's Mom. Interesting that this year, the only two performers with star quality, Constantine and Nadia were booted off. Ouch!
Now on to the more serious blogging. Maggie Gyllenhal is being taken to task on various websites for her statement that American foreign policy was partly responsible for the 9-11 attacks. She stated that America should look to it's past actions. Now if this statement had come from a politician, it would have been taken with some seriousness, but because she's an actress, apparently she's not entitled to an opinion. Or she should have just kept it to herself.
Come on, she's an American citizen, and has the right to air her opinions in public, just as much as Pat Buchanan or Bill O'Reilly. Why is it that it's okay, if you are a conservative to mouth off as much as possible, but if you have a liberal point of view, you're somehow anti-American?
Is there really anyone out there, who doesn't know or realize that our actions in the past, arming both Iran and Iraq in their war against each other, and training Osama Bin Laden's men, isn't somehow responsible for what's happening today?
Okay, I'm going to get off my soapbox now. Normally, I think that actors should keep their mouth shut when it comes to anything other than promoting their films, but in Maggie Gyllenhal's case, I make an exception because I think she's one of the more intelligent, and informed members of the thespian profession. I wouldn't want to hear Britney Spears opinion on foreign policy, primarily because I don't think she even knows what foreign policy is.
Should actors keep their mouths shut and stick to what they know?
Oh, and this was interesting, Mary Kate Letourneau actually said that she had no idea that having sex with a twelve year old was illegal. WTF? Really? Where do you live under a rock? How in the world could she possibly have thought that it was okay to have sex with someone who hadn't even hit puberty? I mean the kid's balls hadn't even dropped when they started sleeping together, his voice probably had just started to change. Ewww!
And now they're in love and want to get married? Fine, I just don't want to keep hearing about it or seeing it on my television. Go away, change your names, and live your lives out of the public eye.
A girl I went to high school with married our high school gym teacher, but at least that relationship didn't start until after graduation. You know the age of consent being 18 and all in most states.
So tell me, should I keep blogging about Reality TV, writing, and my miserable dating experiences in New York? Or should I blog about the serious issues of the day? Let me know if you have an opinion.
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Where in the world is my friggin ending?
Free lunch today, Yeah! I had to get that off my chest. Also, I took a quiz to see which American city, I should live in. Very interesting results.
American Cities That Best Fit You: |
80% Boston |
60% Philadelphia |
60% San Francisco | >
60% Washington, DC |
55% Chicago |
Boston, huh? I've only driven through the city but isn't it extremely cold there? Even colder than New York. Funny that New York didn't even make it for me, and that's the city in which I live and have lived for most of my life. San Francisco is a city I've always wanted to visit. I sense that I would enjoy living there. And they have a pretty cool RWA chapter. Philly, I've been too many times, and Washington DC.
What does this have to with the ending of my book? Nothing really. I'm just procrastinating, as I have been all week. I finished the cuts on the book, and now it's a lean, mean, 440 pages. Which is still 40 more pages than I want it to be. Plus, I haven't added the murder mystery scene that I want to add. Something has to go, and I'm not sure what.
Now I just have to work on the ending, and fix all the niggling bits that aren't quite jelling. That will take up all of next week. I had planned on finishing the revisions this week. Way optimistic of me. The query letter is finished, and the synopsis is as tight as a drum now.
I could say my malaise is weather oriented. It's been absolutely crappy this whole week, ranging from freezing to freezing less. Today's weather is cold, and rainy.
But I guess the malaise is just that I've been working on this book on and off for four years now, and I need to find the enthusiasm that I had when I first wrote it. I plan on sending it off to be critiqued, and I'm sure once that's done, I'll have even more revisions. I think that's what's lacking, another perspective.
I had given the manuscript to a another writer in the workshop that I was taking. I had generously agreed to read her manuscript (and she has an agent!), and I was pysched when she agreed to read mine. I emailed her the manuscript way back in September, and she still hasn't read it. Is that rude or am I just being overly sensitive.
I emailed her last week, to ask her to delete the manuscript from her hard drive, but she hasn't answered me. I could just chalk this down to Mercury being in retrograde and leave it at that.
Just to get off the subject, Constantine had better be prepared to pack his bags on American Idol tonight. It's going to be either him or Scott that's going home. I say this because I had no problems getting through to vote for him for the two hours after the show. I almost wore out the redial button, I pushed it so many times.
Now, I didn't vote for ole Constantine of the famous Greek name because I think he's the best, he's a little too Justin Guarini for me, but I would rather have him on the show, sleazing up the joint than Scott Savol.
Personally, it's time for Scott to go. He's given one lackluster performance after another for the past 7 weeks. While other performers are growing like Anthony and Vonzell, Scott has stayed stuck in neutral since day one. On the other hand, he did have the hard-luck video of the night.
While Constantine's performance was subpar, his video contained glowing testament from his family about how wonderful he was, and what a great Pop Star he'll be. Scott's video was basically, 'I'm a regular Joe living a deadend life near Cleveland, with my biracial child. Please help me.'
Who do you think is going home after that? The guy who is so in love with himself or the comatose serial killer lookalike with the hard luck story?
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Guilty Pleasures
Sounds dirty doesn't it? Well, get your mind out of the gutter because that's not the kind of guilty pleasures I'm talking about. I'm referring to those guilty pleasures that you're afraid to admit to because they might sound cheesy or stupid. Those things that you hide even from your closest friends.
My guilty pleasure, which is actually shared by millions of people, is ABBA. Yes, I'm talking about the seventies, early eighties, Swedish pop quartet. I admit it, I adore the music of ABBA. I listen to my ABBA Gold CD religiously, paticularly when I'm writing at home. There's something about the bouncy melodies that get to me.
Really, how many of you, don't get a pang when you hear the opening notes of Dancing Queen? It just makes you want to grab that hairbrush, and croon in the mirror, "Friday night, and the lights are low." I know it does for me.
ABBA is infectious. You can't help but feel happy when you listen to their music. Just listen to Waterloo when you're depressed, and I defy anyone not to be in a better mood afterwards. I even love the old cheesy footage of them, the precursor to video. Just watching the two female singers Agnetha and Anni-Frid, who have no sense of rhythm whatsoever, cheers me up. Plus, the horrible seventies and early eighties fashions.
I'll even admit to seeing Mamma Mia, the ABBA musical in London two years ago. God, I loved that show. Even though the songs really didn't fit the story, who cares? Just remembering the dance number to Voulez-Vous, a song I wasn't familiar with me, makes me smile to think about it.
One of my favorite musicals is Chess, chiefly because the music is by the two BB's in ABBA, Benny and Bjorn, the two male ABBA members who played the instruments, and sang harmony along with their wives. I was sorry the musical didn't do better in New York, but let's face it, Chess isn't the most exciting topic for a musical, no matter how good the music is, and the music is really good. I'd love to see Tim Rice, and the two BB's work on something else.
So there you have it, my guilty pleasure of the day: the musical stylings of Swedish supergroup ABBA.
My guilty pleasure, which is actually shared by millions of people, is ABBA. Yes, I'm talking about the seventies, early eighties, Swedish pop quartet. I admit it, I adore the music of ABBA. I listen to my ABBA Gold CD religiously, paticularly when I'm writing at home. There's something about the bouncy melodies that get to me.
Really, how many of you, don't get a pang when you hear the opening notes of Dancing Queen? It just makes you want to grab that hairbrush, and croon in the mirror, "Friday night, and the lights are low." I know it does for me.
ABBA is infectious. You can't help but feel happy when you listen to their music. Just listen to Waterloo when you're depressed, and I defy anyone not to be in a better mood afterwards. I even love the old cheesy footage of them, the precursor to video. Just watching the two female singers Agnetha and Anni-Frid, who have no sense of rhythm whatsoever, cheers me up. Plus, the horrible seventies and early eighties fashions.
I'll even admit to seeing Mamma Mia, the ABBA musical in London two years ago. God, I loved that show. Even though the songs really didn't fit the story, who cares? Just remembering the dance number to Voulez-Vous, a song I wasn't familiar with me, makes me smile to think about it.
One of my favorite musicals is Chess, chiefly because the music is by the two BB's in ABBA, Benny and Bjorn, the two male ABBA members who played the instruments, and sang harmony along with their wives. I was sorry the musical didn't do better in New York, but let's face it, Chess isn't the most exciting topic for a musical, no matter how good the music is, and the music is really good. I'd love to see Tim Rice, and the two BB's work on something else.
So there you have it, my guilty pleasure of the day: the musical stylings of Swedish supergroup ABBA.
Monday, April 25, 2005
The Wintour of Our Discontent
Cool title huh? That comes from my finishing the biography of Anna Wintour that I started last week, in an attempt to read something other than romances and chick-lit for a change.
I'm not really a fashionista. I care about clothes, I like gorgeous clothes but since I'm not rich or a celebrity, I generally wear clothes that I can wear to work or on weekends, which means that I buy my clothes at the GAP, Banana Republic or Ann Taylor Loft. When I have time and more discretionary income, I might hit a few sample sales, but generally anything designer that I own, I bought at Loehmann's or Filene's.
What did I learn about Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue, and depending on who you speak to either the most reviled woman in fashion or the most admired? Well, apparently she's a cold, stuck up bitch. Yep, 300 some odd pages, and that's all I learned. Oh, and that she clawed her way to the top by sucking up to well-connected men, and discarding anyone woman who might be seen as competition.
Also, that she's half-American which explains how it was so easy for her to come to America to get a job. The funny thing is, she never speaks to the American side of her family. It's as if they don't exist for her. So really as far as she's concerned, the only thing her mother was good for, was an American passport. Lovely woman, don't you wish you could get to know her?
I will give her props for the fact that she's been running Vogue for 17 years, and shows no signs of stopping. She's probably the most famous editor of Vogue since Diana Vreeland.
Of course, it would be nice if she could have been any other sign but a Scorpio. I swear she gives a bad name to my poor maligned sign. She seems to embody every negative trait associated with being a Scorpio. Ruthless, ambitious, unforgiving, scheming, backstabbing, a bad enemy, yet sexy. Single-minded in that fact, that fashion is her life, the way that being a right wing conservative idiot is Pat Buchanan's raison d'etre (also a Scorp).
I think that St. Martin's should get their advance back from Jerry Oppenheimer, because truthfully there is no real story here. Not compared to Ethel Kennedy or Martha Stewart. Plus it's amazing the details he gets wrong.
In other fashion news, what is the deal with Express? When did they start taking themselves so seriously? I went in to the nearest Express store on Friday to buy a pair of black pants. $75 for these pants. They weren't even that great, certainly not wool or anything.
I also looked through the prairie skirts that they had. Apparently, prairie skirts are hot, so that we can all pretend it's the 70's again. I couldn't believe the price. $65 for a prairie skirt. Hello Gap, here I come! They also had more expensive skirts for a whopping $125.
Come on, even Banana Republic isn't that expensive, and the quality is better, not to mention the diversity of product. Plus they have cool shoes, and jewelry.
So they are going back today. I managed to squeeze myself into my size 0 pants from The Limited. Also a Leslie Wexner store, along with Victoria's Secret and Henri Bendel. I think Mr. Wexner is taking the fact that he owns Bendel's a little too seriously. Express is not nor ever will be Henri Bendel's.
It's a chain store. I remember when Express was the equivalent of going to H&M, but I guess since H&M arrived on these shores, Express feels that they have to go upscale. It was bad enough when it pretended to be a French store. They used to pipe in all this french euro-trash disco, and all the sweat-shirts said things like Provence and crap like that. I almost bought the hype before I realized who actually owned the stores.
They've even redesigned the stores so that they're all white and cool, with minimal displays like it's Prada or something.
Now, if I buy anything from Express, it's sweatpants and bra-top tanks for exercising. That's about it, unless I can find some cool stuff on the sales racks. If I want pretension, I'll go shop elsewhere.
I'm not really a fashionista. I care about clothes, I like gorgeous clothes but since I'm not rich or a celebrity, I generally wear clothes that I can wear to work or on weekends, which means that I buy my clothes at the GAP, Banana Republic or Ann Taylor Loft. When I have time and more discretionary income, I might hit a few sample sales, but generally anything designer that I own, I bought at Loehmann's or Filene's.
What did I learn about Anna Wintour, editor of Vogue, and depending on who you speak to either the most reviled woman in fashion or the most admired? Well, apparently she's a cold, stuck up bitch. Yep, 300 some odd pages, and that's all I learned. Oh, and that she clawed her way to the top by sucking up to well-connected men, and discarding anyone woman who might be seen as competition.
Also, that she's half-American which explains how it was so easy for her to come to America to get a job. The funny thing is, she never speaks to the American side of her family. It's as if they don't exist for her. So really as far as she's concerned, the only thing her mother was good for, was an American passport. Lovely woman, don't you wish you could get to know her?
I will give her props for the fact that she's been running Vogue for 17 years, and shows no signs of stopping. She's probably the most famous editor of Vogue since Diana Vreeland.
Of course, it would be nice if she could have been any other sign but a Scorpio. I swear she gives a bad name to my poor maligned sign. She seems to embody every negative trait associated with being a Scorpio. Ruthless, ambitious, unforgiving, scheming, backstabbing, a bad enemy, yet sexy. Single-minded in that fact, that fashion is her life, the way that being a right wing conservative idiot is Pat Buchanan's raison d'etre (also a Scorp).
I think that St. Martin's should get their advance back from Jerry Oppenheimer, because truthfully there is no real story here. Not compared to Ethel Kennedy or Martha Stewart. Plus it's amazing the details he gets wrong.
In other fashion news, what is the deal with Express? When did they start taking themselves so seriously? I went in to the nearest Express store on Friday to buy a pair of black pants. $75 for these pants. They weren't even that great, certainly not wool or anything.
I also looked through the prairie skirts that they had. Apparently, prairie skirts are hot, so that we can all pretend it's the 70's again. I couldn't believe the price. $65 for a prairie skirt. Hello Gap, here I come! They also had more expensive skirts for a whopping $125.
Come on, even Banana Republic isn't that expensive, and the quality is better, not to mention the diversity of product. Plus they have cool shoes, and jewelry.
So they are going back today. I managed to squeeze myself into my size 0 pants from The Limited. Also a Leslie Wexner store, along with Victoria's Secret and Henri Bendel. I think Mr. Wexner is taking the fact that he owns Bendel's a little too seriously. Express is not nor ever will be Henri Bendel's.
It's a chain store. I remember when Express was the equivalent of going to H&M, but I guess since H&M arrived on these shores, Express feels that they have to go upscale. It was bad enough when it pretended to be a French store. They used to pipe in all this french euro-trash disco, and all the sweat-shirts said things like Provence and crap like that. I almost bought the hype before I realized who actually owned the stores.
They've even redesigned the stores so that they're all white and cool, with minimal displays like it's Prada or something.
Now, if I buy anything from Express, it's sweatpants and bra-top tanks for exercising. That's about it, unless I can find some cool stuff on the sales racks. If I want pretension, I'll go shop elsewhere.
Friday, April 22, 2005
How to wrestle an Out of Control Novel
I have no friggin' clue frankly. I say that because I'm sitting here at work, struggling to cut 100 pages out of my novel, Nearly Famous. This is a book that I've worked on, on and off for the past four years. In the interim, I've written three other manuscripts, but this is the one that I keep coming back too.
I guess you could call it the book of my heart. After every other manuscript, I come back to it, putting into practice the things that I've learned from the other books that I've written. Pacing, plotting, characterization. With each book I write, or each book I read, I learn just a little bit more.
This is the last stand for this book. After these revisions, I plan on having a professional editor critique it. From there I will make one last set of revisions, start querying various agents, and start submitting.
And then I'm done. Finished. It's over. If no one wants this baby, I'm putting it away for good. It's had a nice run but it'll be time to move on to new and hopefully better ideas.
So far, in this go round, I've manged to cut almost 60 pages out of the book. I'm hoping to cut another twenty more before I'm done. Hoping is the operative word here. At least, right now, it's more manageable then it's been. I feel the pacing is tighter, and I've cut the most egregious crap that I've written.
However, it still needs some work, strengthening the glue that binds the chapters. Now comes that fun game called "Is this scene necessary?"
"Obstacles for $100 Alex!"
"Objectives for $200."
I have a list of ten agents that I'm sending the book to. So far it's been rejected by eight agents, so all told I could be looking at another ten rejections. I'm so optimistic! But actually I am. Diana Peterfreund collected 18 rejections before she finally got an agent and sold her first book in a two book deal within two weeks! Check it out on her blog.
I feel that this book has a home out there somewhere. I just have to find it.
I just took this quiz over at ok cupid
I guess you could call it the book of my heart. After every other manuscript, I come back to it, putting into practice the things that I've learned from the other books that I've written. Pacing, plotting, characterization. With each book I write, or each book I read, I learn just a little bit more.
This is the last stand for this book. After these revisions, I plan on having a professional editor critique it. From there I will make one last set of revisions, start querying various agents, and start submitting.
And then I'm done. Finished. It's over. If no one wants this baby, I'm putting it away for good. It's had a nice run but it'll be time to move on to new and hopefully better ideas.
So far, in this go round, I've manged to cut almost 60 pages out of the book. I'm hoping to cut another twenty more before I'm done. Hoping is the operative word here. At least, right now, it's more manageable then it's been. I feel the pacing is tighter, and I've cut the most egregious crap that I've written.
However, it still needs some work, strengthening the glue that binds the chapters. Now comes that fun game called "Is this scene necessary?"
"Obstacles for $100 Alex!"
"Objectives for $200."
I have a list of ten agents that I'm sending the book to. So far it's been rejected by eight agents, so all told I could be looking at another ten rejections. I'm so optimistic! But actually I am. Diana Peterfreund collected 18 rejections before she finally got an agent and sold her first book in a two book deal within two weeks! Check it out on her blog.
I feel that this book has a home out there somewhere. I just have to find it.
I just took this quiz over at ok cupid
| The Liberal Beauty You scored 82 looks, 96 personality, 38 politics, and 79 sex drive! | You're beautiful, you have a great personality, and youre highly sexual. You're a liberal with your views and you don't put morals before everything. You're probably a great wife or girlfriend, and you know how to make sure that the ones you love are happy. You're probably fun in a conversation and I'm sure that you are as loveable as you are beautiful. | 
Thursday, April 21, 2005Ten Signs You're a Celebraholic
You know who you are! I feel your pain. I too am a celebraholic. I first realized my condition, when I figured out that I was less than six degrees of seperation from Kevin Bacon. I once had a conversation with Gwyneth Paltrow (during her Brad period, pre-Oscar and Chris Martin). I'm also a celebrity magnet. I can't go a day in New York without tripping over a celebrity. I don't want it is, but I can't shake these people.
Having said that, here are the top ten signs that you are a celebraholic: 10. You've taken a class at the Kabbalah centre 9. You took it personally when Brad and Jen broke-up. 8. You have watched an episode of any of the following: the E! True Hollywood Story, VH-1's Behind the Music or the Surreal Life. 7. You have subscriptions to any of the following: US Weekly, In Touch, People, The Star, Life & Style, Entertainment Weekly or all of the above. 6. You refer to celebrities soley by their first names. 5. You get anxious if you miss a night of E! News Live 4. Like Paris Hilton, you've decided to trademark a phrase such as 'chickalicious' because it's going to take off any day now. 3. You secretly dream of trying out for a Reality TV show like Survivor or the Amazing Race. Hey if Omarosa can be famous, you can too! 2. You spend more time critiquing the outfits worn at the Academy Awards then worrying about who's going to win. And the number one way you know that you are a celebraholic is 1. You know the names of every celebrity you share a birthday with. Wednesday, April 20, 2005If loving sweepstakes is wrong, I don't want to be right!
I was trying to figure out what to blog about today. Do I want to talk about the new Pope? Since I'm not Catholic, I'm Episcopalian, the election of a new Pope means nothing to me apart from curiosity. Who is this guy it took 2 days to elect? There were rumors after Pope John Paul II died, that the college of cardinals might elect a Black Pope, a Spanish Pope or even a converted from Judiasim Pope. Instead they elected a 78(?) year-old Conservative, former Nazi Youth party member who decries homosexuality, feminism, and liberalism.
The theory is that this guy is an interim Pope. At 78, he's 6 years younger than Pope John Paul II was before he died. Unless he's in great health, I doubt he's going to be Pope for more than a few years. I'm not sure why they elected this guy, but I'm sure there are theories. Then I thought about blogging about the WIR (work in revisions) Nearly Famous. Right now, I'm 132 pages into the revisions, and I'm not sure what's going on. I do know that I need something else in the first 3 chapters, otherwise, it's a little dreary. I realized that my main character has the same conversation with her sister and her best friend. Yikes! The other problem is that every chick-lit book I read, I worry that my book is too similar. That it doesn't stand out enough. I just read a really good first novel by Jane Mendle called Kissing in Technicolor. What I enjoyed about it, apart from the fact that it was set in a New York I recognized, but the protagonist didn't work in publishing. She was a graduate film student at Columbia in her final year. Now I worry that because I have an actor on a soap that my main character gets involved with, that it's too similar to hers. It's not really, but this is where my mind is going right now. So it's back to reading non-fiction before I drive myself crazy. I'm currently reading Front Row, by Jerry Oppenheimer, author of Just Desserts about Martha Stewart. Front Row is about the most famous and hated editor of American Vogue, Anna Wintour. Now on to the main topic. Contests or Sweepstakes. I know that entering these contests is about as realistic as playing Lotto (which I rarely do because you have to spend money), but there's something comforting about filling out the entry form on line, hoping that you'll be chosen to win that particular prize. In my case, I actually won something from Time Out. Dinner at Eleven Madison Park and two tickets to see Return to Moscow. Once you've won something, that gives you more incentive to enter. I mainly enter the Time Out competitions, US Magazine's weekly contests, and anything that has to do with traveling. I still have my fingers crossed for the Fine Living trip to Tuscany. I've bookmarked IWon.com and play it everyday trying to be the one who wins the daily $10,000. Someone may see it as a waste of time. She should be working on her book, plotting another one, querying agents, paying bills, actually paying attention to her job. Well, entering contests, keeps me sane believe or not. It's just that one little thing that I do for myself when the drudgery of my temp job gets to me. When just the thought of paying bills makes me long for a glass of wine. When I get another rejection letter in the mail. Call me madcap or delusional or whatever you want. I'm not hurting anyone, least of all myself. I know that winning one of these is a crapshoot. But hey getting an agent or a publishing contract at this moment, seems just as much of a crapshoot to me, but I keep on trying. Tuesday, April 19, 2005Why can't I find a man like Jon Stewart?
I was watching Oprah yesterday (no I was not home blowing off work, I taped it)because Jon Stewart was a guest on the show. For those of you don't know, Jon Stewart is the host of the Daily Show on Comedy Central, which is like a fake news program.
Jon Stewart is pretty much my ideal man. He's funny, he's smart, he's well dressed. Sure, he's no Brad Pitt or George Clooney. He's more real, the type of guy that you can imagine going out with, hoisting a beer or in my case a glass of wine. Hanging out with friends. He's not so high up in the stratosphere that people would wonder what he was doing with you, when he should be dating Angelina Jolie. He's less fantasy man and much more obtainable. He's a little shorter than I like my men, being around average height. I've never practiced height descrimination with men, unless they are shorter than me. Considering the fact that I'm five foot four, unless I'm dating Mini-Me, most men are taller than me. I still prefer a man who is closer to six feet. I think the most important feeling that I get from Jon Stewart is that he likes women, and considers them to be intelligent creatures. Believe me not all men feel that way. I don't get the sense that Jon would talk down to you if you didn't read the New Yorker or the New York Times. He's not an intellectual snob. He's willing to take on the Tucker Carlson's of the world, and to put them in their place. My favorite thing about Jon Stewart was when he chastized Tucker Carlson and Tucker Carlson whined that Jon Stewart was not being funny, as if he was supposed to be a trained monkey to entertain at will. Ah, if I could only find a man like Jon Stewart! You would think in New York, it would be easy but no. Finding a man like Jon Stewart is like looking for a needle in a haystack. He's also happily married, which also makes him attractive. He committed! He went to William and Mary, a college I thought of applying to, since it's in Virginia where my mother was from. I actually went down to Williamsburg a few years ago to see Colonial Williamsburg which is near the campus. I could easily have seen myself spending four years there, and working at Virginia Shakespeare during the summer months. I don't know why I ended up not applying. I think it had to do with my SAT's, that they weren't up to par for a school like William and Mary. Now that I think about it, it's kind of ridiculous since I got in to Bard, which was just as competitive a school. Anyway, I'll be doing the AIDS walk with the W&M team this year. Hopefully there will be some single, straight men among the walkers. Not that that's the reason that I'm doing the walk. I really believe in raising money for Aids Research, plus I've done the walk in past years. I'm not expecting the AIDS Walk to be a matchmaking service for me. I'm just saying if it happens, it happens. Stay tuned. Monday, April 18, 2005Spring Cleaning
I hate to clean. I don't mean that in a namby-pamby kind of way. I mean I really hate to clean. I avoid it as much as possible which is why my apartment looks like a tornado tore through it. I've been thinking about why I have such an aversion to cleaning. I think it might have to do with the fact that my mother was a total perfectionist. No matter how I cleaned my room, or did the dishes, she always had a complaint about the way that I did it. Since I couldn't possibly please her highness, I just stopped trying.
My mother was the type of woman who would clean before the cleaning woman came over. When I asked her why, since we were paying to have someone clean our apartment, shouldn't that have been her job, my mother replied that she didn't want the cleaning woman to see the house a mess. I know that there are people who get great psychological and spiritual satisfaction from cleaning. I don't know any of those people. They probably live in studio apartments also. I don't. I have 6 rooms to clean people. I know there are people who might be reading this, who live in New York, in tiny one bedrooms who can't believe I'm complaining about having 6 rooms. I'm not complaining about having 6 rooms. I love having an actual dining room, as opposed to just having a dining table. I know how lucky I am to have hit the real estate jackpot in this city, but cleaning them is a bitch. The only good thing about cleaning my bathroom last night was the fact that I probably worked off that cupcake that I ate earlier in the evening. I still have more cleaning to do. Yippee! I have bags and bags of magazines that have to be taped up and desposited on the sidewalk for the sanitation workers to remove. I also have records, yes, honest to god records that need to be gotten rid off, preferably in a way to make me some cash. I have vaccuuming to do, plus I need to buy a vaccuum so that I can vaccuum which necessitates a trip to Target to buy one. Not to mention washing my kitchen floor. I'm exhausted just thinking about it. Watching Desperate Housewives last night and seeing Carlos tearing up the pre-nup, I thought to myself, if I had a pre-nup, the only thing I would ask for would be a cleaning lady. No alimony, no settlement, just pay for the maid or cleaning service for the rest of my life, thank you, and I'll be grateful. Plus I need to find a new laundromat since my usual one was seized by the landlord for non-payment or something. Not that I do my own laundry. No siree, I pay someone for the privilege of washing my unmentionables. Not that I'm not capable of doing it myself. I used to have my own washing machine. But why should I have to spend all day in the laundromat, sorting through colors, getting the correct change when I can just pay someone. Really, it doesn't cost that much more than doing it myself. And they fold everything up so nice when they put it back in your laundry bag. I haven't written much about GH on this blog, not just because I don't want to bore people with my ravings about how the soap has lost it's way, but because I have really nothing to say about the travesty this show has become. Today the new Carly starts right in the middle of an intense storyline. Why the TPTB couldn't extend Tamara Braun's contract until she finished out this storyline I have no idea. To throw a new actress in the middle of a storyline as intense as finding out the child you thought was dead is alive is ridiculous. It would have been so easy for them to wait until they finished up this arc, and then sent Tamara Braun off with her two sons to her ex-husbands island or something to recover, and then brought on the recast. But TPTB obviously don't care how jarring this will be to the fans, nor how awful not to let TB finish out this arc, where she has done such gut wrenching and powerful work. Thus cementing my opinion that Guza and Pratt are prize jerks. Sunday, April 17, 2005Ode to Supermarkets
Okay, I take back what I said about not being a foodie. Perhaps I am in a certain sense, how else do you explain the giddiness I felt this morning when I entered the brand spanking new Gristedes on 103rd Street? I felt like a school kid on the first day of school, before the dread sets in. Or an explorer discovering a brand new land. It's official, I'm a dork!
There I was roaming the aisles, mentally ooing and aweing over the items that I found. Charlie Trotter smoked salmon (two kinds), Gardenburger meatballs (very hard to find in Manhattan, trust me), Thomas' multi-grain bagels, all my Veggie cheeses, plus bags of Romaine lettuce in bite size pieces. I didn't know where to start. I had to restrain myself from buying bags of food, settling for the bagels, recycled paper towels, and Lean Cuisine deep-dish pizza. This was after spending an hour in Whole Foods last night, trying to decided what to buy. We now have 3 Whole Foods Markets here in Manhattan, the best being the one at Columbus Circle, if only for the Wine Store. Where else can you try free wine while shopping, get a slight buzz without having to buy a whole bottle? I still have a hard time buying a bottle of wine to drink by myself. For me, wine is best drunk in a restaurant or with friends. I can't shake the feeling that only lonely women with 10 cats drink by themselves. I have to get over that! I have no problems buying a split of champagne to drink while watching The Bachelor or Desperate Housewives, but then again, champagne is more than wine, it's nectar of the gods. The other thing about Whole Foods is the sheer variety of food, not only the prepared foods, but also the variety of produce and cheeses. Plus the freebies help! Also, they have like a drugstore section, with vitamins, beauty products, etc. that's fun to browse. Yes, Whole Foods is expensive, but the sheer vastness of the salad bar and the hot food stations makes it a bargain. The only problems with the Columbus Circle location is that it also has a cafe, which means that half the people shopping there, are also eating there as well, which means the lines at the check-out can be surreal. Yesterday, it stretched all the way back to the Pizza station, and that was the ten items or less line. Then you have to get past the gridlock by the Jamba Juice station to get out. By contrast, English supermarkets are totally different. For one thing you have to bag your own groceries. For another, they have better prepared food than we do. If you go into the Food Halls at Marks and Spencer, you'll find not just prepared food to reheat, but food kits to cook when you get home. The last time I went to stay with my friend in London, I bought a stir-fry kit to make at home. The kit contained shrimp, bok choy, spinach, sprouts, cabbage, and sauce, plus the noodles. All I had to do was cook it when I got home. It was excellent with a nice bottle of Australian Shiraz to wash it down. I could never find anything like that in the States. I think that it's a market that's been untapped. Plus, the other cool thing about the English, is that both Harrods and Selfridges have amazing Food Halls , the likes that you haven't seen here in the States. Macy's tries but it's just not the same. Selfridges alone has something like 4 restuarants, including a Yo Sushi, and a champagne bar. Now that's the way to shop! Friday, April 15, 2005Food, Glorious Food
I don't consider myself to be a foodie. I mean I love food, and I Love to eat, cook it. I love reading about it. Cookbooks for me are a form of gastro-porn, but I certainly don't consider myself to be a gourmet. I don't eat at all the hotspots in New York simply because I can't afford it. I dream about it, and occasionally if I'm lucky I'll have a date who can afford to take me to Tribeca Grill or Nobu (still working on that one).
I watch the Food Channel religiously. I used to adore Emeril but now it just seems like shtick, and I'm tired of seeing his face everywhere. When he decided to do a sitcom, the love affair was over. Now Tyler Florence is my new love, and Paula Deen has some cute sons. I adore Nigella Lawson for the sheer joy and fun she has when she cooks. She doesn't treat cooking like an art form but something that should be an enjoyable experience. You have to love a woman who can make a ham with coca-cola and mustard and be unrepentant about it. I dream of going back to New Orleans to have dinner at Commander's Palace and Mr. B's Bistro. The crab hash at the Wolseley haunts my dreams. One of my favorite foods lately has been seafood cobb salad. I first had a cobb salad in Disney World at the Disney-MGM studios at the Brown Derby. The Brown Derby is an exact replica of the restaurants that used to exist in LA in the 30's through the 1950's. These restaurants were as famous for the celebrity clientele as they were for the caricatures on the walls. I Love Lucy shot a famous episode there. One of the dishes the Brown Derby was famous for was the Cobb Salad. A cobb salad is slighly different from a chef's salad in that it contains either chicken or turkey, chopped eggs, avocado, corn, cucumbers, bacon, and tomatoes. Since I didn't eat pork or beef at the time, I had it without the bacon. One of the coolest things was that they tossed the salad with the dressing at the table. I fell in love right then and there as did my boyfriend. In fact, we came back to the Brown Derby the day that we left just to have the salad again (and do the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror). I now have two Brown Derby cookbooks that have the recipe. Later on, I discovered another version of the dish, the Seafood Cobb Salad. I stopped eating meat completely in 1998, so now I'm a vegequarian. The Seafood Cobb salad means I can still have that great taste but with my favorite, seafood. The best restaurant in New York that makes a seafood Cobb salad is the Red Eye Grill. They make it solely with lobster, and it is delicious. They even toss it at the table like at the Brown Derby. It's also incredibly expensive which is why I haven't had it in years. Oh dear, now I'm getting hungry for it. I might have to eat slim fast all next week to afford it! I've had Seafood Cobb salads at other restaurants like City Grill, City Lobster, and Blue Fin but the Red Eye Grill is something special. A nice glass of champagne or a Reisling and the Cobb Salad. I'm going to attempt to make it on my own next week. I have no idea how to buy an avocado, so I'll have to ask the grocer. Oh and I learned from Cooking to Hook-Up: The Bachelor's Date Night Cookbook, that I'm Progressive Girl! Thursday, April 14, 2005The Pact
I've got nothing today. I'm recovering from a menstrual migraine (TMI?), and I'm still reeling from the one-two punch of ATNM and American Idol last night. It was a night of shocks all around. First, Tyra booted off two contestants on ANTM, and then she went off on one of the contestants. It was a true Tyra Tirade as she went off on Tiffany for not taking the competition seriously enough.
Then my Nadia gets booted off American Idol for the sole reason that she was true to herself, and her talent, and didn't try sufficiently enough to mold herself to what the audience wanted to see or hear. So, she was booted off. I feel particularly guilty because I didn't vote for the whole two hours of voting. Pushing that re-dial button repeatedly takes alot of effort and concentration. Now, I feel as if I let Nadia down, if I'd kept voting, maybe she would have gotten that one vote more than Bo Bice and she'd still be on the show. I'm at a loss as to why Scott and Anthony are still in the competition. Scott has no charisma, personality and minimal talent. Anthony is adorable but too young. Anyway, I thought I would review a book I read over the weekend, called The Pact by Jennifer Sturman, a new chick-lit mystery series that RDI just published this past December. Rachel Benjamin is the maid of honor at her friend Emma's wedding. Rachel, Emma, and their group of friends from college have gathered at Emma's family estate in the Adirondacks for the wedding when Emma's fiance turns up dead in the swimming pool. No one is too upset that the fiance is dead including the bride. It turns out that back in college the five friends made a pact to rescue each other from bad relationships by any means necessary. Has someone taken the pact too far? I really wanted to like this book. I adore chick-lit and I adore mysteries, so together they should fit like peanut butter and jelly. Unfortunately, The Pact, doesn't cut the mustard to use another food metaphor. The biggest problem is that the author spends far too much time telling us what a creep the fiance was, and hardly any time showing us. She had the perfect opportunity in the first chapter at the rehearsal dinner to show us examples of his nasty attitude, but instead we get one comment and a smirk. Another problem is the lack of suspects. You just know that none of the friends is going to be the killer. Which leaves the parents, the best man, and another friend who is in love with Emma. The best man's motives are unclear, although he's used as a red herring. Jennifer Sturman's writing style is not bad, and it was a quick and easy read, but as a mystery it's not satisfying at all. You pretty much can figure out who did it from the first page. Plus, although I gather it's a slight homage to Agatha Christie, she even gets the names of one of Christie's detectives wrong. It's Tuppence and Tommy Beresford, not Terrence. No true Agatha Christie fan would get that wrong. A solid C+ for The Pact. (And avoid whatever Oxygen movie they make out of it. It's sure to be a clunker) Wednesday, April 13, 2005Bills, Bills, Bills
I need to pay my bills. Now this isn't an uncommon occurrence, we all have to pay our bills. I've even heard that there are people who are so organized that they have an accordian folder for their bills, which they keep in alphabetical order, or sorted by the date they are due. Wow! My hats are of to you.
My method of paying bills is a little less scientific. Basically it's more like this: "Is that a bill on the floor? Yes, it is. I guess I should pay that." If you get my drift. I really need to be organized than I am when it comes to these things. I don't know what it is about bills, but it seems like they mulitiply in my mail box. I've contemplated getting some of my outstanding debts consolidated into one tidy package to pay off every month, but somehow I just never seem to get around to it. This week, it's cable, credit card, and Con-ed. The three C's. I've already done my taxes, so I'm ahead of the game. Tomorrow is also the day, I've set aside to finish going through what I need to send my Keynotes editor for the May issue. Cleaning up my President's Letter, etc. before I get into the serious nitty-gritty of my revisions. Tomorrow is also the day that I re-order the scenes in my book, so that they build to a climax. And then next week, starts the real work. The first 3 chapters are set, so that's good. I figure I can probably try and do a chapter a day for the next three weeks until the book is finished, but I'm also going to start querying. Last night was spend re-dialing frantically to save my Nadia on American Idol. Unfortunately, I fell asleep so I missed most of her performance, but I had a strong feeling that she wasn't safe, and when I called her 1-866 number and the line wasn't busy, I knew there was a problem. I fully expect when I turn on the television tonight, that she will be in the bottom 3 and possibly eliminated. Which sucks because I think she is totally worthy of the American Idol crown as it were. I think the reason why Simon likes Carrie and Vonzell is that they are more malleable in terms of image than Nadia is. Nadia has a pretty good sense of who she is musically, if she doesn't pick such great songs. Look at Jessica Sierra. She picks one crappy Leann Rimes song and she's gone. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that either Scott or Anthony are eliminated instead which I know is kind of mean, but Scott gives me the creeps, and Anthony is just too bland, so matter how much he tries to spice it up. Oh, and Britney is pregnant. I'm keeping my hopes up that her husband doesn't dump her the way he dumped his ex-girlfriend for Britney. I just can't seem to shake the feeling that there is something extremely shady about Kevin Federline. Not that I know Britney personally, but when you've watched someone grow up in the public eye, you feel somewhat protective of them, particularly when you feel they're about to make bad choices. It's almost lunch time, and I'm still trying to decide what I want to have. It's amazing that this is actually consuming my time. It must have something to do with the today's post on Efoodie. The tortellini sounded sinfully delicious but without the peas and the prosciutto (since I don't eat meat). Tuesday, April 12, 2005Nose to the Grindstone
Well, I have a lovely day off yesterday away from my revisions. I put them aside to do my taxes and to start my May President's Letter for Keynotes. At a loss for anything really pithy about this writing thing, I wrote about my mother. It was nice to sort of write a little valentine to Mom after all these years. It brought back lovely memories, and some not so lovely.
I still have to edit the new end of my book, and a scene that I'm contemplating shoving in. I really plan on doing that, right after I finish reading this month's Premiere! Last night, after work, I went off to the volunteer interviews for the Tribeca Film Festival. Truthfully, I'm surprised that I was called since at first I received an email saying that I was on the waiting list, and then an email saying that I'd been assigned to Special Events. Why did I volunteer for the Tribeca Film Festival besides insanity? Well, I thought it would be fun, and it would give me something to write about! I live my life solely as fodder for this blog. Well I took the 6 train down to Canal Street, which if you haven't been to New York, is like arriving in Hong Kong. You're right on the border of Soho, and Chinatown. When I got out of the train, all I saw were signs in Chinese. Walking East? West? I made my way over to Grand Street to the offices of the special events team. First things, first. The elevator wasn't working so I had to walk all the way to the fifth floor, which was my exercise for the day. The stairwell was dark (at one point there were no lights whatsoever), filled with garbage, paint peeling from the ceiling. I finally made it to the 5th floor, where I filled out the form with my availability and waited to be interviewed. I sat in the small waiting area till I was called for my interview. While I waited, I noticed that right next to the bathroom was a door that apparently led to someone's apartment. How bizarre to share your apartment entry way with an office? That's New York for you where real estate is tight. The interview went well, and I'm looking forward to helping out. My friend MG and her husband will be back in town for the premiere of a movie called Proud about the only ship during WWII manned by an all African-American crew. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I'll get to work that event. On the way to the subway, I stopped off at Hampton Chutney because I was jonesing for a goat cheese, portobello mushroom sandwich with carmelized onions. You know how you just have a taste for something? Well, unfortunately for me, it had to be a dream since apparently they were sold out of sandwiches. I was seriously bummed. Not as bummed as the woman who found a thumb in her Wendy's chili. Now the chain is saying it's not theirs, and she's faking it. Where do you find a human thumb do something like this? Is there a store that you can go to, to buy human limbs for the sole purpose of trying to trick fast food chains out of money? I don't want to know. Oooh, dark chocolate M&M's! Psych! Monday, April 11, 2005I do, I do, I do
What a glorious weekend we had here in New York. Sunny, 72 degrees yesterday. No rain.
I had a wonderful time on Friday with my fellow writer friends. We went down to Cafe Raffaella in Greenwich village which is owned by a good friend of a friend. I've been there a couple of times over the years, and I was eager to share the restaurant with my friends. We had a lovely table in the second room, unfortunately it was too chilly to sit outside Friday night. I had two glasses of a wonderful Pinot Grigio, and the Penne Puttanesca with Tuna which was excellent. We sat there for three hours gossiping and having a good time. Saturday morning, I felt the effects of that good time, but I soldiered on to Pilates none the less. Later that night, I went out to City Grill on the Upper West Side to celebrate another friends birthday. I went easy on the alcohol, choosing to have a single drink but what a drink it was. A flirtini for the those of you who have never had one, is Raspberry vodka, raspberry puree and champagne. It's like a slushy with a kick. If I ever get married, or sell a book, I'm serving Flirtini's at the ceremony or at my book party. I doubt that Prince Charles and Camilla Parker Bowles were drinking Flirtini's at their wedding since the reception was a simple tea party with finger sandwiches and champagne. Apparently the Queen felt that it would be in poor taste to have a bigger do being that this is Prince Charle's second marriage, and the nation still hasn't quite warmed up to the Duchess of Cornwall. Of course, I watched the wedding. Did you think otherwise? Good Morning America showed some of it, but thank god for WE channel which showed the entire religious ceremony Saturday night. I thought that Camilla looked lovely. She's not the beauty Diana was, but she's just the sort of woman who suits the Prince of Wales who is definitely a man of his class who likes hunting, fishing, painting, and gardening. Not to mention listening to Opera. It's a shame that the POW and Camilla hadn't met later in life instead when they were in their early twenties. The Prince wasn't ready to get married, and Camilla, I guess fearing she would be on the shelf, married an old beau. Considering how many girlfriends the Prince of Wales had in the next 11 years, I doubt they were still involved romantically, but I'm sure they were very good friends. It's ironic that one of Prince Charle's girlfriends, Anna Wallace, broke up with the Prince for the same reasons that Diana often complained of, feeling neglected. If only Diana had been her real self during their courtship, and not telling him what he wanted to hear. Unfortunately, it seemed the woman he married was not the same woman he courted. I hope that Charles and Camilla finally find happiness together. I think they deserve it. The irony is that if Diana were still alive, I don't think they would be getting married. Unless of course, Diana had remarried herself. That's why I don't think that Diana was killed. I think that Royal Family would never have gotten rid of the young Princes mother no matter how annoying. Better that she remarried, even someone like Dodi Fayed, and live abroad, then single and living in Britain. The last thing they would have wanted was for her to be seen as some kind of martyr figure. How interesting that Camilla's ex-husband was invited to the ceremony with his new wife. Apparently its friends all around. How sophisticated and continental it all seems. I thought Camilla looked lovely and age appropriate. No low cut halter dress and tiara like Judith Nathan or strapless Vera Wang like Donna Hanover. She's not a bad looking woman, but she does look 57 as does Prince Charles looks 56. The commentators were hysterical. WE had Trinny and Susannah from What not to Wear? Ingrid Seward who is de rigeur at these things, the editor of Brides magazine and assorted British journalists who no one on this side of the Atlantic has ever really heard of. They all contradicted themselves over whether or not the public approves of Camilla. Some said no, others said it was a total media invention. I couldn't believe that Joan Rivers was there! Apparently she and Prince Charles are friends after meeting on a painting holiday in France. Who knew? You could have knocked me down with a feather when I saw her sitting in the cathedral. The Queen, of course, looked like the Queen. Hard to believe that next year, she'll be 80, and Prince Philip will be 85 this year. Where has the time gone? I love it when the entire Royal Family gets together. You know I'll be buying the special issue of Hello Magazine. I wonder who'll be on the cover though, the Pope's funeral which was the day before or Charles and Camilla? Friday, April 08, 2005Free, Free, Set Me Free!
Hooray, the weekend is almost here. Only a few more short hours and I get get my get out of jail card from the place where I work.
I shouldn't complain since I've been able to write a book, do all my RWA NYC stuff, and revise another book while I've been here, but there is one employee, SKW, who literally drives me up the wall with her incessant demands. No, she is not my boss. If she were, it would be one thing, but she's not. She's another administrative assistant or Executive Assistant's as we are called. I work for the Head of the Division, and she works for one of the Program officers. Technically, I outrank her in the hierarchy of the department. But for some reason, she seems to think that I work for her. She can't allow me to do anything on my own. If I'm filing, she wants to go through it with me. Despite the fact that I'm quite capable of filing on my own, thank you very much. If I have a question, I'll ask her. Now, this week, she tells me she needs MY help, doing her filing next week before she leaves on vacation. Excuse me, but Lincoln freed the slaves, thank you very much. If she needs her filing done, she can do it herself. It's not my job, I have my own filing to do. Which I know have to do, so that I don't have to do hers. Catch my drift? I'm counting the days till I get out of this job. For one thing, I'm taking a pay cut which is hitting me hard in the pocket book to work here. For the most part, the job has been pleasant and a change of pace from the testosterone filled halls of the investment banks that I usually work for. Plus, there's free breakfast and tea every afternoon. So I've been willing to put up with her whining crapola for the most part. It's not even that she's not a nice person, but she's got the most incredibly whiny voice, and she obsesses over everything. She either needs to get drunk or get laid, I'm not sure which. Which brings me to General Hospital. SOW reports that Carly Corinthos will catch her ex-husband Sonny in bed with FBI agent Reese Marshall. Poor Carly, first her son Michael seems to be murdered and now this. This is like the third time that she's caught her husband in bed with someone else. First Alexis Davis, then Sam McCall, and now Reese Marshall. The first two women ended up pregnant. What do you think the chances are that the mysoginistic bastard head writers at GH will write something fresh and original, since they keep repeating themselves? On a lighter note, I actually have social plans for this weekend. Tonight I'm going out with my friend Marley Gibson, author of the addictive Adventures of Vanessa Virtue here on blogspot, along with several friends from the Chicklit and RWA NYC chapter, to a place in the village owned by an aquaintance. And then tomorrow night, I'm out with another friend from England. Plus spring cleaning must be done. I have a load of stuff to bring to Goodwill and the Salvation Army. I'm determined to have my apartment in some sort of clean state by the summer. Oh, and I was rejected by a guy I winked at on Match.com. Surprisingly it hurt, even though he doesn't know me, just wants in my profile. Still, I shouldn't let it get me down, the guy has 4 sons. I'm not sure I'm ready to be a stepmom to that many kids! I'm also a little bummed that Burger King decided to change their BK Veggie Burger. Now, you have to ask for pickles, and onions, whereas before it was just included like the Whopper Jr. Why am I bummed? Because I hate to have to ask to have it included every time I order one. Plus, I think they're using Morningstar Farms now instead of Gardenburger. Not that it will stop me ordering them, mind you. I'm just saying. I'm also intrigued by the Spicy BK Fish that they're serving now. Clearly, I need to get off the fast food wagon! Thursday, April 07, 2005I can see clearly now, the pain is gone
So I've recovered from my hangover pretty successfully. I'm still feeling a little under the weather but it's my own fault. I had a soy dog for lunch yesterday, and it made pretty nauseous. While veggie burgers are the bomb, soy dogs leave a lot to be desired I must say.
I settled in for a hot night of America's Next Top Model and the results show of American Idol mixed in with a little Alias. As you can tell I probably watch way too much TV. I'm even thinking of cutting off my standard cable and just leaving me with basic, since cable in New York is a whopping $50 a month. I could buy a pair of shoes with that! I was so under the weather yesterday, that I didn't even mention that Prince Rainier of Monaco died. I'm really bummed about this, even more bummed than I am about the Pope. And can I just say the picture on the front of the New York Times of the Pope lying in state is creeping me out? I hate funerals, and I particularly hate the ones with open caskets. Call me crazy, but I just don't like looking at dead people, particularly dead people embalmed to look like they're still alive. When I went to my brother's funeral, and saw how the cancer had ravaged his body so that he was almost unrecognizable, I realized my parents had the right idea about no funeral and cremation. I have to admit that I totally bought into the idea of the fairytale relationship between Princess Grace and Rainier. I still like to believe that at some point they were happy, despite living in a gilded cage. Unlike Princess Diana, Grace seemed to make peace with her role. She carved out a career doing poetry readings and collages to satisfy the artistic side of herself. I wonder now about Prince Albert. He's almost 50 and not married. They changed the law of succession so that Princess Caroline's oldest son can now inherit the title and the throne, which must please Albert since he shows no signs of getting married or having a serious relationship. I still think he should find a nice European woman of his background and settle down. Maybe even a rich American woman since he seems the most American out of the three children. Paris Hilton? Nah, too much of a skank, but there must be someone with the poise of Gwyneth Paltrow he can marry. Things are going swimmingly with the revisions of Nearly Famous. I'm almost finished re-reading the manuscript. Some of it I love, some of it I think is a load of shite, but over all I'm pretty proud of the book. I think I can definitely cut 100 pages out of it. I've already eliminated 3 whole chapters, and made myriad cuts where I've repeated myself. I've given myself a deadline of May 1st to finish the revisions before I start querying again. I have my top ten list of agents that I will be querying including TOR, and RDI, in terms of publishers. I still have two more books that I want to write this year. I know that one more is completely doable, and I can certainly make a start on the third before the end of the year. All the writing I've been doing lately with the newsletter, and the blogs seem to paying off. Now somehow, I need to find the time to date! Wednesday, April 06, 2005Is there life after high school?
I was going to blog today about American Idol contestants singing show tunes or Charlie O'Connell and the skanky ho's of the Bachelor, but I'm feeling a little hungover right now.
Memo to Kara of The Bachelor: If you have to keep asking the guy if he's okay with dating a single mother, he probably isn't. Pack your bags now, and be grateful that you didn't get more attached! I went out last night to see a show about the painter Tamara de Lempicka, who mainly painted during the Art Deco era of the twenties and thirties. I love her paintings. There's something overripe and sensuous about her work. You either love it or hate it, I don't think that you can remain neutral when you see her work. Kara Wilson, who is a very talented actress and painter recreates one of Lempicka's paintings during the show, which is absolutely remarkable. Anyway at the after-party, which was held at the very tony NY Atheletic Club on CPS (that's Central Park South for non-natives), I discovered that a friend of mine had an Easter party that I was not invited to. There's nothing worse that sitting around hearing everyone talk about what a great party it was, and have her accept the compliments, knowing that you were the only one there who wasn't invited. It reminded me of my senior year of high school, when a friend called to wish me a happy New Year from a party at a classmates house that I wasn't invited to. I felt about as low as I did back then. You know the feeling, sort of left out in the cold, unwanted. I should have been happy that I was invited to the show last night, that I got the chance to hang out with Tom Conti, and free alcohol, and the ambiance of the Athletic Club. I mean how often do you get to see the inside of places like the Metropolitan Club or the Union Club, where old moneyed New Yorkers hang out. As far back as I can remember, I'd walk past the NYAC, and wonder what it looked like inside, and what went on there. And now I had the chance, but I couldn't stop obsessing over not being invited to that party. I'm an orphan and holidays are particulary hard for me, particularly if they are 'family' holidays. The fact that my sister never invites me to Thanksgiving, or Christmas, hangs over my head. So Easter this year for me was particularly hard. It's been 5 years since my father passed, and almost 16 since my Mom passed. I have no significant other at the moment, so it would have been nice to have somewhere to go for the holidays instead of spending them alone. Anyway, I hightailed it out of there, without saying good-bye, which was enormously rude to my friend, who had planned to walk me to the train, but I was having a pity party, table for one, and I just split. I continued my pity party all through watching the AI finalists butcher Broadway show tunes. Who decided that this was a good idea? And why were there no songs after like 1973? 'Hello, Young Lovers'? 'Climb Every Mountain'? I felt as if I was in a time warp. No Rent, No Hair, No Jesus Christ Superstar, no Les Miserables. How nice it would have been to hear Carrie sing 'On my own' from Les Miz or Vonzell and Nadia tearing into any song from Dream Girls. Nadia could easily have sung 'Easy to be hard' from Hair or even 'I don't know how to love him' from Superstar. But Oliver? Oy! It was probably the most painful show to watch. Now today, I'm hungover, and feeling fragile. Not even knowing that my social calendar is full for the weekend is helping. So, am I an idiot for being upset? Do we ever really get over the crap that happens when we're teens? And if we don't, are we emotionally stunted individuals? I'm dying to figure it out. Tuesday, April 05, 2005Get to know your friends 2005
Welcome to the 2005 edition of getting to know your
friends. What you are supposed to do is copy (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste it onto a new e-mail that you'll send. Change all the answers so they apply to you, and then send this to a whole bunch of people including the person who sent it to you. The theory is that you will learn a lot of little things about your friends, if you did not know them already. Instead, I'm putting it up here (because I have nothing to write about today as I'm heavy into revisions) 1 . What time did you get up this morning? 6.25am 2. Diamonds or pearls? Pearls 3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Hitch 4. What is your favourite TV show? Desperate Housewives 5. What did you have for breakfast? Egg whites, with spinach, mushrooms, and feta cheese 6. What is your middle name? Kerri 7. What is your favourite cuisine? Italian & Sushi 8. What foods do you dislike? Brussel sprouts, they smell like farts! 9. What are your favourite crisps? Cheese and Onion 10. What is your favourite CD at the moment? Breakaway, Kelly Clarkson 11. What kind of car do you drive? Don't drive 12 Favourite sandwich? Goat Cheese, portobello mushrooms, carmelized onions, roasted tomatoes. 13. What characteristics do you despise? Dishonesty and unfaithfulness 14. Favourite item of clothing? Shoes 15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? Italy 16. What colour is your bathroom? Blue 17. Favourite brand of clothing? Michael Kors 18. Where would you like to retire? England 19. Favourite time of day? Early evening 20. Where were you born? The US 22. Favourite sport to watch? Figure Skating 23. Person you least expect to send this back to you? I have no idea 24. Person you expect to send it back first? I have no idea...surprise me 25. What fabric detergent do you use? Anything nicely scented with conditioner in it 26. Coke or Pepsi? neither, I don't drink soda 27. Are you a morning person or night owl? Wish I enjoyed mornings more...but am still a night person 28. What is your shoe size? 7 1/2 29. Do you have pets? No 30. Any exciting news you'd like to share with your family and friends? None, at the moment. 31. What did you want to be when you were little? An actor Monday, April 04, 2005Last Train to Snarksville
I'm feeling kind of snarky today. I would have been snarky yesterday but my computer at home was on the blink, which led to even more snarkiness.
It all started on Saturday with the monsoon that hit New York. Not just rain which would have been nasty but okay, but cold, windy, rain, the kind that tears your umbrella out of your hand, or turns it inside out as your walking. That kind of rain. I had my RWA meeting plus the board meeting beforehand. We had a great speaker in Dee Davis, and four potential new members showed up out of the rain. I managed to get a copy of Dee's new book for our basket, and also Timmy Handelman gave me a copy of her new Tracy Kelleher book which I devoured when I got home. Getting home, that was another ordeal. It seems there was an 'incident' at 72nd which meant there were no uptown 1,2, or 3 trains. So my only other option, apart from taking the bus which would have meant standing out in the monsoon, was to take the A train up to 168th and Broadway, and then take the downtown 1 back to 145th Street. Or I could have gotten off at 145th and St. Nicholas and walked in the monsoon. I opted to get off at 168th Street. All this meant that instead of it taking me a half hour to get home, it took an hour. I was supposed to go out Saturday night down to a bar on the Lower East Side for the after Tartan Day Parade party. I ended up not going because A) there was a monsoon outside and B) my jeans were soaking wet from the rain, not to mention C) my bad hair day. Plus the idea of spending time with men in wet wool didn't appeal to me. Oh, there was a time in my early twenties or in college when I thought nothing of going out in a snowstorm to a bar for 3 for 1 night. Of course, this was Syracuse, where there is nothing to do at night but go out and drink. When you're 40, and there's a monsoon, you really want to look your best when you're looking for love. Saturday night was not it. Sunday dawned with the changing of the clocks. Why don't they put a big sign somewhere to remind people to put there clocks forward, so that idiots like me don't forget? I'm on my way to the gym when I realize it's not 8:45 but 9:45 meaning I've missed my NIA class, and now I have to take body sculpting. I was not in the mood for body sculpting but what can you do? Then later, on my way downtown, more train troubles. The trains were terminating at 42nd Street, so I had to take the N to 14th Street to go shopping. Of course, the Banana Republic I went to didn't have the skirt I wanted, which was a totally wasted trip, not to mention that I didn't win the trip to Scotland either at Grand Central. At home that night, my computer decided to futz out on me. My computer is almost 9 years old, which is practically prehistoric in computer terms. I know I need a new one, but since I have no money, and no credit right now, it'll have to wait. This morning, I overslept, not waking up until 7 o'clock instead of six. My body clock is all screwed up because of the time change, but I prefer to blame it on Ralph Fiennes. Why Ralph Fiennes? Because I made the mistake of watching the first part of a 3 hour epic starring Mr. Fiennes as not 1, not 2, but 3 Jews in one family, grandfather, father and son. Tell me, does anyone find Ralph Fiennes sexy? If you do, please let me know why? His brother yes, Joseph exudes sex but Ralph is at most asexual. His scenes with Kirsten Scott Thomas in English Patient were painful to me. Anyway, I woke up late, couldn't find my pantyhose, ended up having to buy a new pair on the way to work, they didn't have the color I wanted so I'm stuck with black, and I'm having a bad hair day, which is great since I have to head down to the Tribeca Film Festival this afternoon after work. Oh, and the Pope died this weekend. The 'funky pontiff' as Bono called him. So I'm feeling a little off today to say the least! Friday, April 01, 2005April is the cruelest month
Happy April Fool's Day!
Today the joke is on us here in New York in terms of the weather. After two days of sunny weather and temperatures in the 60's. It's now cold, and rainy. The pope is on his death bed, and I forgot to renew my RWA membership. Yep, I forgot that yesterday was the 31st which was the last day to renew without a $25 penalty fee. I guess I was so excited by the great critique that I received from Bev Katz Rosenbaum. Nearly Famous is my baby. I've been working on this book on and off for the past 4 years. I know there is great book lurking in the manuscript. I just need to find a way to bring it out. I'm still suspicious that this is actually 2 books, not one, a before and after. But I need help. The book has already been rejected by 7 agents, and 2 publishers. So, I took the step of sending it to a freelance editor. I chose Bev Katz Rosenbaum because of her experience, and her prices were reasonable. The Queen Bee from my workshop, Jennifer Belle, typically charges $500 to critique a manuscript. Bev charges $175, which is doable. However, I took the step of just having her critique the first 3 chapters and the synopsis. To my surprise, she loved the first 3 chapters but had reservations about the rest of the book, feeling that I didn't have enough work-related conflicts. I may have to downplay the romance in the book, and just stick to the work stuff. I have a triangle but I wonder if it's necessary. My next step is to re-read the manuscript and start the delicate task of cutting it to the bone. That's what I meant by April being the cruelest month. I'd like to have the entire manuscript revised by May, so that I can start resending it out to agents and publishers. TOR is looking for chick-lit right now. It's not my first choice of publisher, but they have good authors. I'm still going to resubmit to Red Dress Ink, although they aren't accepting unsolicited manuscripts, just queries at the moment. Also, I might send it to Dorchester as well. I'm going to continue to post stuff I've cut on my Julia Chamberlain blog. I'm using it as a marketing tool. If the book is published, readers can go to the blog for backstory, and other amusing tidbits that can't make it to the novel. I'm hoping to include lots of juicy stories about the horror films that she's done, as well as the nitty-gritty of what it means to be a working actress. Right now, it's back to the grindstone. Time to print out the manuscript!
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