Oh MY. This blahg is all dusty and full of cobwebs! Someone really oughta write something. (Oh, me? Okay.) I hope this finds you all well. I myself have been terribly frenzied and disconnected this past week from the apartment search. I want to thank all of you who extended your well-wishes and have been keeping me in your prayers through these uncertain times. Unfortunately, I have not yet received your checks in the mail. I will continue to keep an eye out.
I'm happy to report, however, that the end of this nightmare is finally upon us. I haven’t said anything until now because I did not want to put a Kinna Hurra on it (and for my non-Jewish readers, a "Kinna Hurra" is a type of gravy traditionally served over brisket for Passover Seder - Please hold all other questions for the end.) But I think it’s safe to go public now, as last night I signed the lease on a great little place! It’s in a practically-perfect location, within my budget, on the second floor of a cute little building, and it’s pet-friendly (thank Christ.) I can’t tell you how my options were cut damn near in half because of so many adamant and ridiculous No-Pet policies. I can understand why landlords might not want to accept large dogs, or even small dogs for that matter. Or Mexicans. But what the hell kind of damage is my cat gonna do?? The damn thing’s been neutered, shaven, declawed…I’ve plucked his eyebrows, amputated all four of his legs, knocked out his teeth and broken his spirit. Essentially, what we’re talking about here is a cute purse. I mean, really. He’s harmless! But that’s all behind us now.
Standing outside on my lunch hour today, for the first time in weeks I was actually able to escape from my head; take the weight of the world out of my brassiere, lay it down beside me for a mome, feel the crisp, fresh air enveloping me, and breathe a deep, liberating and cognitive breath. It was wonderful. Unfortunately, the homeless man passing by me at precisely that moment decided to take a big liberating and cognitive shit. Well, I suppose he was having a revelation of his own, and who am I to begrudge him that? Anyway, I am so thrilled to be done with the constant anxiety, the asshole brokers, Craig and his schmucky list…Done! I suppose, if nothing else, I've finally learned to decode the decorative and ambiguous terminology used exclusively by real estate brokers. "Charming " or “cozy”, for example, both mean "uninhabitable; "short walk to N Train" means "Baltimore"; "semi-basement" means "one foot in Hell"; and “plenty of sunlight/high ceilings” means “nine-hundred-and-fifty-dollar bench in the park (umbrella included)”.
So that’s that. Stay tuned for house-warming invitation and registry. In other news: Please everyone pick up a copy of this week’s HX Magazine, featuring my little review of Roundabout Theatre Company’s absolutely gorgeous revival of Sunday in the Park with George. It looks like this…
(To clear up any confusion, that fat-ass on the cover is not me. ) In the event that you are not able to afford a copy of the publication, the review is also featured online, which you may see if you’ll just TOUCH ME INAPPROPRIATELY HERE.
And for my big finale today, I would like to share with you a clip recorded live this past Sunday at yet another drunken brunch, starring me and my drunken friends. You might remember the DREAMGIRLS performance from the last brunch, which has become legendary in certain circles. After that, I swore I would never perform publicly again. But then 16 bottles of champagne happened and ROSE’S TURN popped up on somebody’s iPod. The rest was beyond my control. And besides, it's the "role I was born to play". Special thanks to Aimee for filming and posting it on YouTube without my permission; you’ll be hearing from my attorney (my Mom). Thank you also to Josh on the light switch, Anthony on the table lamp, Alec on the wind machine (the fan), and Tania on the floor, laughing at me drunkenly. Here she is...