Thursday, October 28, 2004


looks a little ghetto...

i'll have to keep working on it.
tomorrow i will be volunteering at an Arts in Education Conference for New York City. i have been contemplating getting into this field for a while and this is my first step in that direction. i'm excited to learn a little more about what is out there and how to actually become an 'actor-teacher.' i love kids and i love theatre, so i think its a pretty good match. hopefully i'll make some new contacts and maybe find an internship or something.

anything to get me out of this temping rut i've been in forever. gah!

did i do that?

oh my god you guys, look! see there, on the right side of this page? lookee at the pretty links that i added all by myself! holy crap, i figured something out!

i am a genius!

A QUIZ with some html code!

I'm an irredeemably eejitous, liberal, not-too-generous, not-too-selfish, relatively well adjusted human being!
What are you?
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

I promise not to have hundreds of these thingees, but I desperately wanted something to clicky clicky on my site.

Wednesday, October 27, 2004

yes, and

the "how can i not be myself" thing is totally a rip off of "i heart huckabees" question of "how am i not myself", only in my mind it got a little mixed up.


"divinemissk" is most definitely in homage to the world's greatest entertainer, THE DIVINE MISS M.




oh, and

i really frigging love theatre, the stage and acting. really. friggin. love. it.

just in case you didn't get that from the whole career-minded talk below. i've done so much free work and you just don't do that unless you love it. i'm not going to get into my motivation or my passion or justify any of that right now. just know that i really feel 100% when collaborating with other people and being immersed in my art.




maybe a little about me

i have no idea how to do any of this blog stuff, like a bio, or links or html code or anything. i suppose i will learn in time, but i'm feeling rather lazy right now, so i'm not gonna do it.

here's a little about me myself and i:

i have lived in new york city for the past 4 years and LOVE it here. however i don't see myself permanently living here forever. a dream life would include a 'country' house upstate (off the grid, and totally rad) and an apt in the city, and a hybrid car that gets 100 mpg to go back and forth.

i live with my bf herein known as "kpr" and we've been together almost as long as i have been in nyc.

we rescued champ, a 22 month old Boston Terrier, last march and we are totally ruled by him. see his picture at

i'm an actor by training (yes actor, you don't hear them calling them doctresses, now do ya). i have a ba in theatre which means i've done it all, stage managing, set building, costume designing, etc... oh and that whole acting thing too.
i have many dreams but the biggest one career-wise is to someday be able to pay my rent (or mortgage or whatever) doing what i was trained to do. imagine that.

supporting yourself doing something you love is the ultimate gift.

i know this will happen.

ok- enough for now.


Monday, October 18, 2004

Oh the glory of a hangover

Saturday night's birthday party was fun. I made it out- awake and with extra eye makeup (for a 'sophisticated evening look'). In preparing for the night at the bar I realized that I have absolutely nothing to wear. I have a nicely organized closet full of clothes, but nothing to wear out to a preppie bar. I started out with just jeans and a purple sweater, but then realized what a moron I looked like and K went and ruined it by saying the dreaded "That's what you're wearing?!" He says this to get my goat and it does indeed get my goat even though I know he's only saying it to get my goat. My self confidence spirals as I go through the racks, pulling out clothes, putting them on and trying not to cry and say "I don't wanna go out." When we usually go to a bar, it's in the 'hood, and I just wear jeans and whatever shows my boobs without being too trashy. But the bar we were going to was a little more upscale that our usual rocker, slouchy, 70's basement bar we frequent on the Lower East Side. I try on my black satin pants and a see-thru black shirt with cami underneath, nope too dark and dowdy (see thru and all, I know!). I've recently transitioned to the winter wardrobe and all my cute little skirts and semi-sexy sleeveless shirts have been retired for the year in a large tupperware bin and all I was left with was sweaters and slacks that scream "WORK CLOTHES!" and thermal shirts and slouchy jeans. Seven outfits and several suppressed screams go by and I am at a loss. I finally decide on a lacey black dress with a flesh-colored attached slip (makes it look like you gots nothing on underneath) that I bought my sophomore year of college and doing a little math in my head I realize that this is 6 years ago. SIX YEARS AGO!!! AGGHH it was '98 then and I had a whole different group of friends! And still I pull on this dress and put on a skinny pair of black pants on underneath (ruining the naked slip thing effect). I'm not completely satisfied with the ensemble, but it will have to do because I am slowly being killed by the impatience being shot at me by K's eyes.
So we take a cab to The Star Bar and we walk in and I realize that all the guys in here are wearing vertically striped button down shirts, untucked. Hair clipped short with a little bit of gel spikey spikey. Cologne (ugghh, yuck) and very preppie indeed. I groan, audibly, but the music is too loud for anyone else to hear. We spot C, the birthday girl and it was great to see her and meet her family. Points to her folks for braving this place. We run into some of K's former colleagues and he catches up on gossip etc... I drink many, many vodka gimlets. The gimlet is my favorite drink, but I am often disappointed because it is rarely made well. The best gimlet is served at Simone on 1st Ave and St Marks. I drink gimlets because they offer quite a kick for one cocktail, meaning I only have to drink one, and I'm on my way to tipsyville. Well I drank three and don't remember much afterwards. I do remember clutching the porcelain later at home and yelling mean things at K, but that's about it.

I woke up the next morning in agony and with much remorse for the yelling of mean things at K. My eyelids are glued shut, my head pounding and my stomach is making its own transatlantic journey- all I want to do is spend the day in bed and be miserable. However, our friends M&M are coming to pick us up at 10am so we can go APPLE PICKING!! Normally, I would find this to be a great deal of fun and excitement, but really, when you are hung over, the last thing you want to do is to go APPLE PICKING!! I make it thru the shower and manage to look presentable. We load into the car (Champ too!) and begin the two hour journey to the farm upstate. Agony, pure Agony my friends. I don't know how I made it through the car ride without hurling all over the backseat of M&M's nice new Jetta stationwagon. Champ kept on climbing on me to look out the window and I kept on pushing him back into the middle of the seat and concentrated on not puking in my mouth and swallowing it again. We made it to the farm and that fresh country air hit me like a brick. I managed to scramble behind some bushes before I christened them with my cereal, bananas and yummy stomach acid. Bananas don't taste half bad the second time around, they are all warm and mushy. After my successful regurgitation I felt SO MUCH BETTER and was ready for apple picking goodness. We had a blast and although I , myself, did very little picking I took loads of pictures of Champ staring at the pig, and goats and chickens. Champ eating mushy apples on the ground. Champ marking each and every apple tree. Champ being surrounded by oodles of admiring kiddos. I also snagged a few pics of K and M&M as well and the beautiful foliage.

We returned home triumphant and still a bit hung-over (K too, this time), bearing about 20 apples- and lets see if we eat them all. We also have two pumpkins, peanut brittle and apple pancake mix. Yum!

Saturday, October 16, 2004

True to form

My whole life I have tried and tried to keep a consistent journal. Sometimes I feel important events in my life simply slip away because I can't bother to write it down and I can't remember to take the Ginko to improve my memory.

So, I'm glad to say that I have been consistent in not being consistent. I think of things all day long and about how, "I should blog about this later," And thats my whole problem, that little word, "later." I'm a procrastinator by nature, something I've put off coming to terms with. I tell myself and others that I thrive under pressure and that I always get things done in time, just at the last minute.

So I am sitting here, on demading the last season sex and the city and feel very, very happy. There is wine in the fridge that is calling my name, but I am putting off getting off my ass to go and get it. I'm looking forward to going out to K's friend's birthday tonight at the "Star Bar." We were told to arrive a little after 11pm, because they will be watching the Yankees game before hand and we don't care so much for the Yankees. So anyway- I'm hoping to be awake after 11pm tonight! I've come to realize that I do love my sleep, and I always have. In college I could stay up to all hours, but I could also just roll out of bed and yawn my way across the street to the theatre for class. I still can't believe I would go to class with bedhead and in my flannel pajama pants. But everyone else was doing it so I happily hit the snooze button till five minutes before my first class. Now that I am an "adult" and live a "responsible" life, I have, have, HAVE to get 8 hours sleep or I am a cranky bitchass the whole next day. Now, I never get 8 hours of sleep a night, so I am always a cranky bitchass. So this means on the weekend, I try to spend as much time as possible sleeping, forsaking any kind of social life because I fall asleep or at least am drowsy by about 10pm. Unless, of course, I nap during the day, but today was spent organizing the downstairs, going to hell that is Crate and Barrel, and playing with Champ at the dogpark. So now I am trying to nap, while K works downstairs, but I was seduced by the on demand. So here's for hoping I'm still awake at 11pm and able to drink without passing out of K's arm.

Motherfucker! The fucking on demand is only working for like every other episode! Goddammit this makes me so frigging mad. Don't they understand I need to watch my sex and the city in order! I just missed Charlotte's wedding to Harry! Dammit dammit dammit.

I just realized that in my previous post, I made the commitment to all lower caps, but now I am writing somewhat grammatically correct as far as ummm capitalization. So what? Right? I'm not a writer, I don't have a style, so i can do whatever the fuck I want.

Ok, thats it for now, if I keep rambling on and on, I'll use up all my ideas and I'll never blog again.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

a little early for thanksgiving

after work yesterday, i took champ out to the backyard for his usual pee n' poop. i turned my back for a second and the next thing i know, feathers are flying.


there is a live turkey in my back yard.


did i mention i live on the lower east side of manhattan?! in NEW YORK CITY?!?!

panic broke out. champ chased him into the small fishpond. he was relentless in his pursual. i was afraid he was gonna catch the sucker and break its neck and then what would i do?

they say you should train your dog well and in an emergency, it will save their life if they drop everything and come when you call their name.
Well my friends, champ is a goner.
no amount of "NO, CHAMP, COME!" could convince him to give up his excited investigation of the intruder of his back yard. i thought he was going to fall into the pond himself. he didn't thanktheelord and i picked him up and put him inside the house.

i turned back to THE LIVE TURKEY IN MY BACKYARD!!?? and noticed that turkeys do not know how to swim. the poor little fella was a squawkin' and a flappin', but couldn't get himself out of the water. he was also shivering like crazy because i imagine the water was very cold. i pulled him out with the net we have for such emergencies as this.

i, being very level headed in a crisis, did what i do best and called my best friend m and yelled into the phone, "THERE IS A LIVE TURKEY IN MY BACKYARD!!??" she calmly told me to call 311 and ask for animal control and talk to them. which i did and i then decided that this is the sign i needed to know that i had to start my own blog.