The life and times of an ethnically ambiguous little lady.

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Where to Start....

Good lord. I think that about sums it all up. A girl goes on vacation for a few days and the holy gates of work open and flow into and over my inbox. I'm ready to retire. Who's with me? I don't even know where to start.

Apparently the travel gods don't like me to get anywhere without developing an ulcer. Wednesday of last week I dashed home to Philly to celebrate the arrival of Passover with 22 of my closest friends and family like a good Heeb. While it was lovely, it was over too fast. That and there's the whole "no eating bread" thing.

And maybe you ask: "But Emily, what's the big deal? You don't have to keep the holiday. No one's going to know the difference."

Ah, I guess you haven't met me then. Do you know how stubborn I am? I think that's one of the only reasons I've been a vegetarian for 12 years. Just when I'm about to break, one of my family members will say "Oh, this is some good chicken soup? Have you tried it? I mean, the chickens just sort of marinate in the water like it’s a spa and jump right out. Honest.”

And that's when I get on my high horse (in a completely non-cruel way, of course) and ride off into the sunset.

Anyway, traveling when you're not eating bread is tough because you're eating out all the time. My boyfriend was eating a piece of pizza last night and I practically licked his cheek for crumbs. (That, and I thought to myself, they should so make a pizza air freshener, because this smells heavenly.) Not one of my finest moments, though there are quite a few to choose from.

But I digress...

So after my jaunt to Philly on Wednesday, I had to head back up to New York on Thursday to make a plane out of LaGuardia that left at 5 pm that afternoon to go to Portland, Oregon. I was going to visit my friend for a few days. Simple enough, right? Not so much.

It all began with a late start and a little traffic. And so I missed my glorious Greyhound ride from Philly up to NYC. (Note: If you don’t think Greyhound is glorious, you obviously haven’t read my entry on said delightful mode of transportation.) That meant that I had to run to the train station, piss away too much money on an Amtrak ticket and cry a little. I get to NYC by 3, but I still have to get to LaGuardia.

I decide to take the subway to Queens and then catch a cab. You'd think that I'd never caught a cab before, because I was having no luck. Maybe I looked like a [gulp] tourist. Finally, with an hour and a half to go before my flight left, I hailed one.

Now I must say, I have a lot of issues with cab drivers. Too many bad drivers. Too many dudes that don't know where they're going and get mad when I get mad that we're lost. So when I got in and the cabbie leaned over the seat, I thought he was going to look at a map. I was quickly sinking into pissed mode. Then I realized that he was putting on driving gloves. This man means business! Granted, he got me to the airport in record time, but I think I left my spleen on the way.

I finally get to my flight with an hour to spare. I can relax until I have to make my connection.

We taxi down the runway. Then we pull over. For two hours. With no explanation except that air traffic control told us to wait.

This doesn't look good.

We finally take off and I'm hoping we'll make up some time. When we land in Dallas, I realize that I have 15 minutes to make my connection. And that’s before I’ve gotten off the plane.

I’m going to have to haul ass…

Friday, April 07, 2006

My Grillz

TACOMA, Washington (AP) -- Government lawyers tried to remove and confiscate the gold dental work known as "grills" or "grillz" from the mouths of two men facing drug charges.

Apparently it's standard procedure to seize assets in order to prevent suspects from trying to move or hide valuables or evidence. And the lawyers thought the grills snapped out like a retainer, which some, but not all grills do.

Now, maybe these guys aren't subscribers to Vibe magazine, thus they are not down with the most current way rappers spend their insane incomes, but assuming all that money just pops out of the suspect's mouth seems a bit silly to me. I mean, if I'm investing thousands of dollars in my mouth jewelry, you better believe that no one is going to be snag those things out of my mouth when I'm sleeping!

The suspects were apparently in a car on the way to the dentist when they called their lawyers to try and stop the seizure. And my favorite part was the lawyer's statement:

"It sounds like Nazi Germany when they were removing the gold teeth from the bodies, but at least then they waited until they were dead," Richard J. Troberman, a forfeiture specialist and past president of the Washington Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers, said.

Hmmm. Aren't we being a little dramatic, Mr. Troberman? Sure, the seizure seems a bit extreme, but we’re talking about them seizing jewelry: it’s not like they’re taking the suspects’ braces or glass eye or fake leg.

I just don’t get it. Some people are going to the dentist and getting their retirement policy welded into their teeth, and I’m afraid to go to the dentist at all.

A Few of My Not-So-Favorite Things

We're all our worst critic. I can't help but notice that about all the people I know. Recently, I also realized that it takes next to nothing to get my dander up. As it's Friday, and time to kick back and enjoy the weekend, I thought I'd include a few of my not-so-favorite frustrations, in hope that it will help me move on with my life. That and realize what a spaz I am:

  • Yesterday I ate a candy bar because I just had a craving for it. Then I felt guilty for eating it. Then I got mad at myself for feeling guilty that I ate it.
  • I walked past an issue of Teen People and couldn’t help pick it up and start reading. By the fifth page of teenage celebrity dating drama, I was ready to shank someone.
  • I’m freelance proofreading a romance novel at the moment. It wasn’t until page 129 that something saucy happened. Aren’t people paying good money to get their smut a little earlier?
  • I woke up a few days ago more tired then when I went to sleep. I even had a dream that I was dating my boyfriend and a lesbian and I broke things off with the lesbian because it was too exhausting to try and please everyone. It shouldn’t be this hard to start my day. And you know things are bad when it infiltrates your dream patterns.
  • I was recently reading about the riot in Brooklyn by some orthodox Jews when one of their own was arrested for talking on his cell phone at a green light and holding up traffic. There is a discrepancy as to whether the 75-year-old was roughed up before he was arrested but there was enough outrage that a bunch of his brethren turned out and lit some cars on fire among other things. Is it wrong that I’m kind of ashamed to call the Orthodox part of my religion? I mean, they set cars on fire when someone’s arrested and they threw stones at me from across the street when I was in Israel because I wasn’t dressed according to their standards. A little angry, aren’t they? I think they could use a chill pill.

Sigh. Okay, I feel a little better.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Everything I learned, I learned from Behind the Music....

I have and I've had a pretty good life. I grew up in a stable, loving household with parents I respect. I joke that if I wanted to slit my wrists, they'd support me enough to cheer me on make sure the knife was straight so I did it right the first time. I went to a good college and I have a job I don't mind. I have rockin' friends and they and my family support me in my dream of comedy. My boyfriend makes me happy, looks out for me, and even cooks. I know, nauseous yet? But while these are the ingredients needed to make a well-adjusted adult, it's not the recipe for a successful career in comedy.

Just about every performer I can think of has had some sort of strife: t0ugh childhood, drugs, bad decisions, blah blah blah. About the worst thing I can think of that I’ve survived is that I grew up without cable. And I can't reach the high shelves. And I'm passive aggressive.

And it wasn't until I actually got cable in college that I realized this. It dawned on me while watching VH1's Behind the Music. I'd watch everyone from Aerosmith to New Edition. And it was always the same. Kids start band early. Band rocks out. People notice. They get a record deal. Drugs and women are everywhere. Half the band goes into rehab or someone dies in a freak accident or success tears them apart. And then the redemption where they get it together and make a comeback.

I've always wanted my own Behind the Music. Not because I want to be famous, but because I want to accomplish enough that people feel a Behind the Music needs to be made about me. And yes, I realize that I need to make an album first, but if Eddie Murphy can do it, so can I. I mean, Jesus, I like to party all the time, too.

So now the question is, can a funny female with a crippling case of Napoleon's complex and no daddy issues make it in the dysfunctional world of comedy? Guess you'll have to tune into VH1 in 10 years or so to find out.