Tears....the ones that come from ridiculous laughter!

Have you ever spent a night lying in bed with your best friends sharing stories? Well, I'm sure you have. Last night was one of those nights for me! I was baking mini muffins for my work meeting and in between switching the bans in and out of our one shelf oven, I would run to my roommate’s room, squeeze under the covers and commence in stories with the girls.

Most of the stories were about stupid moments that have happened to and around us in the days before we all met, i.e. High School! I love High School stories. They are all very similar no matter when or where you went to school. It doesn't mater if you had 60 kids in your class or 352 like mine, stupid shit is bound to happen, people are going to be picked on, and someone will get arrested (hopefully not you!).



My roommate took the cake though when it came to funny/stupid/mean pranks from the good old days. Her high school boyfriend lived in a little subdivision where his next door neighbor was also a student at their school. The boy next door was slightly mentally impaired and as is typical in an American High School, he was often picked on. Instead of doing the typical house egging, and ketchup/mustard splattering on the lawn, these individuals decided to fill his pool...with gold fish!



That day when Peter came home from school, it just so happened to be raining. He went into his backyard, saw the pool filled with fishies and jumped into the water to try and save them! He though that it was raining fish, and that he needed to save all the little fish! But the concerned kid that he was ran next door to Bradley’s house, with a fish in hand, to inform him that he too needed to save the fish that the rain brought into his pool too!



It was a combination of the silly/endearing story and the fact that my roommate could not get the story out without laughing that made my abs sore and my eyes pour tears! So the moral of the story is, be nice to your neighbors, and always save the 'fishies'!

"So I Think" They are Children...

The new season of So You Think You Can Dance (SYTYCD) is in full swing. If you have been reading my blog from the beginning you may remember that my sister, Allison, was showcased on the first episode of this season. The beautiful deaf dancer from Texas didn't make it past the first round of Vegas, but she should have based on what I saw from Monday night's performances.

I thought it was a great way to start the season. Showcase the dancers in their forte before throwing them in a different element and right into the hands of the voters. Sadly though, the show left me irritated and annoyed in what the American public is being showed as good dance, and the top talent of the country. All I saw was small children kicking and turning. I didn't see any dancing.

What I love about the basis of SYTYCD is that it allows for talented individuals to work with the best and brightest in the industry, and hopefully jump start what could be long and promising careers. At the same time the show brings dance into the living rooms of people who could either be huge dance supporters or people that know nothing of the art form. Graduates from the top conservatories in the country can watch along side of individuals who have never been to a dance concert or musical in their life. These are the things that make this show amazing. But why then are the viewers being told that 'competition thrash and dash' is all that is good and entertaining to dance?

The opening number by Wade and Amanda Robson showcased not only technique but style and a story. Too bad the twelve year olds that have been placed in the Top 20 don't understand the concept of 'emoting'. Congrats to these individuals who are on the show, I know that it is not an easy feet to do, I have tried. And I'm not taking away from the fact that these kids have potential, but there is no depth to their performances. All I saw from the remainder of the performances were poorly executed turns (I don't care if you do ten when your heel is down) and tilt after tilt (that doesn't require technique; it requires loose hip sockets that will need surgery in ten years).

The one winning number of the night was the Latin trio performed by Karen Hauer and married couple Ashleigh and Ryan Di Lello. I could do without Ashleigh's constant broadcasting that her husband is "her’s", but aside from that personal preference, the performance not only showcased strong technique, but depth. The dancers actually...performed. There was a fire and charisma coming from the stage that left you saying "that's HOT", and rightfully so. The fact that I find funny/interesting was that these performers were the oldest of the bunch. These twenty six-twenty eight years olds made the teenagers look amateur. Plastering a smile on your face, or in most cases, a blank stare is not performing or emoting by any means. I would rather watch someone that can't whack their face with their leg, or throw themselves to the ground if they can pull me into their performance.

I'm not trying to be a Negative Nancy. And by no means am I jealous of these performers. But if I'm not left speechless and dying to run out of my apartment into a dance class because of what I have just watched on television, than these dancers aren't doing their job. Because yes, it is a job. They are on a reality television program, people are watching their every move, and not to see them fall on their face, and not to see them fail. Failing does nothing for me, because I want to do what these people have been given the opportunity to do. And that is not just the chance to dance and start their career; it's the chance to make someone watching you feel something other than the stresses of work or the anxiety of paying bills. Anyone can dance; people do it all the time at weddings and high school dances and clubs across the country. But not everyone is a dancer, a dancer is someone that has the power to move mountains and stop time with movement and emotion. If the emotion is missing, it's just like watching someone 'cut a rug' at a club. I'm not interested in watching that.

So to the current cast of SYTYCD: BRING IT! You have been given an incredible opportunity. Use it as a learning experience, because trust me, there is always something to learn, and if for one second you stop and think that you are done, that you have reached the top...well then yes, you are done. Because no one wants to work with someone or watch someone that thinks they have learned and achieved it all...there's no depth in that, just ignorance and immaturity.

I get it! I don't like it! But I get it!

So I have been ranting about foreigners and the pain I experience waiting on them, but I had a very enlightening conversation with some 'London-ers' yesterday. Though they alone do not make up for the rest of the foreign population that comes through my bar, it did shed some light on the 'tip-no tip' debacle.



The older gentleman that was in the group asked me, very politely, if it was customary to tip the 'bar mate' every time they serviced you. I explained yes, if you are paying as you go. The party was currently running a tab, so I explained that he would just wait till the end.


As he explained to me, things are done very differently in the UK. They never tip the bartender. Their idea of a ‘tip’ is saying ‘and have one for yourself'. I thought this was something someone said as a come-on, but this is the polite/generous thing to do when drinking in London. (To me, it's cheap considering your bartender is probably already 'having one'!). I also found out that when having dinner in London, you may leave up to 10% for a tip. But you would leave nothing is you didn't like the food. Crazy! In the U.S. a 10% tip is like spitting in the waiter's face, and not tipping because the food is bad is just NOT acceptable. The server is not the chef, therefore shitty food is not their fault!  Just send it back, if they respect their job they will fix it without a problem.


After explaining what is customary and appropriate, they seemed very receptive. The couples said the last thing they wanted was to faux pas in a foreign country. Which I definitely understand, but why aren’t all foreigners responding this way? Though, badly on my part I caught myself falling into old mental routines where I would say 'O fuck 'em, they won't tip me anyways.' But I was wrong. Not only did we have pleasant conversation, but they left me 22%! (I did give them two free drinks).


So as of now I am slightly optimistic in the foreigners that will be gracing me with their presence. And if they don't tip I think I’ll be able to say they aren’t mean, just ignorant!

Attention to Any and All of the following:

Attention to any and all of the following:

- Slightly unattractive Caucasian females
- African American couples drinking: Bay Breeze, Hennessey, Amaretto on the rocks or Malibu-anything
- 'People' ordering apple martinis
- Older southern couples
- Older ladies from California
- A family with 2+ underage children
- People from any country other than the US (or possibly Uruguay)
- & stupid boys


The following things are NOT acceptable:
- Verbal tipping

- No tipping

- Shitty tipping for NO valid reason

I am here for the sole purpose of pouring you drinks, and attempting to make stupid small talk. I am not the U.N. ambassador. I am not a sports caster. I am not doing this for my health. I am doing this to make money and pay my bills and buy nice things. So to all of you listed above, doing any of the things listed above are RUDE and OFFENSIVE. Doing these things will NOT make me like you, in fact it might very well lead me to fuck up your drinks/food and possibly even lead me to pour it on you.


So SHAPE UP!  And take a lesson from my SATC girls!

And so it begins (2)

Remember those joys of waiting tables that I was going to tell you about? Well, I stepped on the 'floor' (lingo for serving tables in the dining room) for the first time in 2 months. Let me tell you...don't miss it. I was very shaky due to the pitcher of sangria that I consumed (by myself) the night before. Not to mention, I was un-showered, and un-interested. I figured it was a rainy Saturday and that I'd make a good $100, not have to work too hard and be out by 4pm. You know what happens when you assume!


Apparently tourist season is in full swing. I thought I had a couple of weeks until chaos, insanity and mass pandemonium began- but I was wrong. Here are some of the things that come along with waiting on foreigners:

* Blank stares when you great the tables (this is if you are lucky, because the other option is they yell at you because they are 'NOT READY'. My response is 'I was just saying hello, but feel free to yell at me!"

* Then there are the half-ass translations that come from both ends. I work at a brewery. We make beer. We have many different kinds. But when they look at me and go 'beer-a' I don't even bother with types. I bring a lager. If you are waiting on Italians though, they like options: 'blonde, red or black beer-a'!

* Now we move on to food. When in doubt- just say burger. Everything else comes with unneeded stress and confusion in terms of sauces, temperatures and vegetables. Sometimes you can get something out of your non speaking English friends, but depending on the accent 'medium rare' can sound the same as 'medium well'...that’s when medium is a great option!

* Of course there are also some of my favorite inconveniences with waiting on foreign people:

-Water, coke (anything) is served with NO ICE.
- They always ask for 'ehspreessooo', and then will snub their nose when I serve then with a red stir because we don't have demitasse spoons. Heaven forbid they want a latte, because we Americans 'just don't do it right'. Sorry, but this is not Starbucks- but have no fear there are eight right around the corner.
- And don't forget that all the running around and aggravation comes with little to no tip. I'd rather get nothing than get 33 cents in pennies. YES, this has happened to me. I did not find it funny then, nor do I find it funny now.


I used to feel that it was my job to inform and educate the visitors that came into The Pub. But now, I just don't care enough. It's not worth the aggravation, or the loss of brain cells. So Happy waiting, and bring on the Holidays!

And so it begins (1)

I love that I was sitting on the subway the other night with a plastic cup of Pinot Grigio. The ticks and perks of being a bartender. It's really not that bad of a job. When I started this blog I was hoping to share all my rants about waiting tables. You know, all the things that come along with being a 'servant' to New Yorkers and tourists, all the while 'living the dream' of being a dancer in the city! But since coming back and being full time behind the bar, I don't feel that the stories are nearly as entertaining. Good for my sanity- bad for my blogging!

I've been working in restaurants for years, so after a while things start to become 'o-too-familiar'. Stories repeat, drama is the same. I read Waiter Rants. I would say that every waiter needs to read it... but most likely every waiter has already experienced it.

There are some stories though that stick out in my head as far as personal experience goes. Such as when I almost got in a physical fight with a big, black, homeless woman! She comes around every summer when we have the outside cafe set up. Usually she asks for water or coffee, we will give her a plastic cup, and she will leave. But not this day. She found it necessary to pop a squat. Steal fries out of the bus tub. Lick all the spoons in the ketchup. And lastly, curse me out, calling me a 'mother-fuckin' bitch' and then tried to judo-chop my ass.


Then there is the time that my roommate was thrown up against a wall by the chef of our old restaurant. He thought it was necessary to pin her in, scream in her face, then fire her. What did she do to provoke him you ask? She didn't take the fourth refill of bread to a table at the exact moment he asked. No, it didn't matter that I was doing it, she didn’t; therefore physical abuse from the 300lb Cuban man, who just so happened to be recently released form jail for fronting the largest coke trafficking ring, EVER! Mama would have killed me if she knew that phrases such as: 'you better take care of table 42, that's our dealer and you know that he's packing!' were said to me more than once. Oh dear! Thankfully, I got out of there!


The fun times never cease to amaze me in the restaurant business. But have no fear, the fun/trashy stories will begin soon enough, and when they do...I will be here to entertain you!


Bartender Ashley, OUT!

O the subway...

Anyone who lives in NYC is aware that every ride on the subway is an interesting experience. A simple ride to work can be inundated with crazies, weirdoes, hustlers and the occasional cute boy! Today was no different. Well, it wasn't the most entertaining ride I've ever had but just kind of made me giggle.

I have started to do some writing while on the subway rides to and from work. Since I don't have the time to be at my computer all day long like I was in Miami, I will spend the transportation time writing my thoughts out which makes writing my blog a little more time efficient! Well today I was standing up when I got on the train with my huge bag from Bed, Bath and Beyond and stood overtop of a woman writing in her own notebook. Sure, this wasn't the most appropriate thing to be doing...reading her 'journal', but it was just an interesting perspective for me. Some of my favorite things she wrote were: "I need music. I need my guy. I need an IPod." Then she paused for a few minutes, and then wrote: "Life is too short not to have an IPod." I thought that this statement was hysterical! I'm sure that if people read what I wrote some times they would think it was stupid or trivial as well, but this just cracked my shit up! And then what I thought was an interesting statement was "O, the life I live, and the life I want."

That last statement was very interesting to me. I know I've said that before, maybe just in different words, but still, seeing it come from another person just made me stop and think. What more does she want from life? I don't know her; I've never seen her before and will never see her again. But what is it that she's missing?

God, I just love New York. Walking down the street every day, seeing people, watching them interact with each other or their pets, or even just the way they bop down the street while listening to their IPods. These things are so silly, and trivial, but they give me some of the best internal conversations! I'm so intrigued to know more about the people you see every day, or even the ones that you know you will never see again. I would LOVE to stand on the street one day and stop people who are listening to music and see just what they are listening to at that moment. Because you know that the big burly black man is going to be listening to Barbara or Liza and I want to totally call him out!

So I suggest you go outside while it's nice out and enjoy the passers by. And if it's too cold for you, hop on the subway. I would say "save a crazy for me," but they flock to me anyways!

(the pic is from my favorite NYC tradition: no pants day on the subway)

The Wedding 'Bug'

Why is it that once your friend gets married that they try to ensure a speedy road to the alter for you as well? And it's not even just friends that try to do it, its co-workers, former classmates and then of course the bridal shop people. EVERYONE thinks that just because they are doing it, you need to do it too! Well, that's what people used to think about weed, and I still have never done it!



It has gotten to the point now where I feel like everyone I know is pairing off. And this of course leads to marriage for most, and do I dare mention...kids! I'll facebook stalk people from high school and then cry myself to sleep when I see that I am still the single girl. And I'm not just single as in not married, or in a relationship. I'm the epitome of single. I'm the friend that gets invited to weddings and is places at the table by the bar. I'm the friend that gets paired up with the only other single man at the wedding. I'm the one whose friends throw a party every time she goes on a date.



I mean don't get me wrong. I couldn't be happier for my friends. And I'm not anti-marriage, or relationships...I just don't have a very good (or long) track record! But I would like to get married. Someday. You know... a good 10-15 years from now! So to my dear married friends: thank you for your concern as far as my personal life goes. But thrusting your single male friends at me is not going to force the wedding 'bug' any more down my throat. A- I hate insects. B- I don't eat them either.

I did have a good experience today though with a friend from college and her quest for the perfect dress. I must say, it was quite a pleasure going shopping with her! She basically just needed an outside opinion so she could make a final decision. Well, let me just tell all you brides to be out there...if you are looking for a brand of dresses to try: La Sposa! The dresses in this line are not only beautiful, but they are made to fit a woman's body. No boxy frames. No large unflattering ass silhouettes! Plus, after shipping, alterations and the dress itself, she's looking at less than $2000! And it's a beautiful dress that will be hand made for her fabulous body!

Hopefully La Sposa is still making fabulously beautiful dresses ten years from now. So if ya'll can hold out, trust me- I'll deliver a fabulous party. I mean, I don't live completely under a rock, I do think about wedding plans! But until then... bring on the booze, bring on the cake and bring on the "Shout" song. Mama's gonna dance!

Shopping Advice!

Ok, so I am trying to find furniture for my apartment and I'm having no luck. My roommate is fabulous and has furnished the entire living/kitchen area, as well as decorated, hung artwork and configured the little space we have in the bathroom. I have hung one thing in my room, and it's crooked! I have no money and A LOT of ideas. Problem is, aside from the money thing, I have an idea of what I want to do and what I want my room to look like, but I can't seem to make it happen!

Today I did some walking around and popped into some places while looking for furniture. I spent about an hour in ABC Furniture. This place is 6 floors of amazing furniture, decor and personal items. I would furnish my life with this store, if I wasn't broke. But if you can drop $1,500 on a night stand, be my guest. If anything, it's fun to walk around and get ideas.

I also love to go into Urban Outfitters and rummage around the home decor section. Sadly I feel like their home furnishings have diminished. There used to be tons of furniture and decoration ideas, now it's a lot of crappy little nick-knacks, but there are still great colors to give you ideas.

I really want to find a good thrift/vintage shop for some fun furniture and decorations, so if anyone knows one that won't break my bank, I'd totally be game!


ABC Furniture
888 Broadway (at 19th Street)


Urban Outfitters
72nd and Broadway
3rd Ave btwn E59th and E60th
(and more)

Regina is 'Spektor'-ular

Last week I went to the Regina Spektor concert at Radio City Music Hall. First off: Radio City is just beautiful, someday I will be there at the Tony Awards receiving Best Choreography in a Musical and watching my fabulous friends accepting their Best Actor/Actress awards. But until then, I'll go to fabulous concerts like Regina’s.

I only know five of her songs, but she played four of them so I definitely got my money's worth. I absolutely loved how chill the show was. There were no mosh pits, or people running up and down the aisles. I mean, people were drunk, that's for sure, but her concert was one of those that you could just sit back in those plush seats, listen and enjoy. I think that her music is incredibly smart and powerful. The lyrics are so beautiful and true to life, love and art. She has a great way of turning run-on thoughts/sentences into amazing phrases. I think I love that about her music because I am the queen of run-on sentences. I could talk, talk, talk and ramble until I’m either out of breath or my brain just stops, which has happened before when I start to ramble and forget to let my brain catch up to my mouth! Unfortunately I'm not profound and poetic like Miss. Spektor though.



Another plus to this concert is how seriously adorable she was. Quirky, perky and you can tell slightly socially awkward! I would LOVE to have lunch with her and just see what she has to say, it could either be a moving convo where she has this unique intelligence, or could be Jessica Simpson; dumb as a skunk!



I love her new song 'Laughing with God'. So moving and insightful. Her range of topics and styles is incredible and she always leaves you wanting more. I would really love to choreograph a show to her music. Well, what I really want is to choreograph movement into her live concerts, I think contemporary and modern dance would move so well to all she has to say in her music. Regina + live dance = my goal/dream!

"Laughing With" by Regina Spektor

No one laughs at God in a hospital

No one laughs at God in a war.

No one’s laughing at God

When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor.

No one laughs at God

When the doctor calls after some routine tests.

No one’s laughing at God

When it’s gotten real late

And their kid’s not back from the party yet.

No one laughs at God

When their airplane start to uncontrollably shake.

No one’s laughing at God

When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else
And they hope that they’re mistaken.

No one laughs at God

When the cops knock on their door

And they say we got some bad news, sir.

No one’s laughing at God

When there’s a famine or fire or flood.

But God can be funny

At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or

Or when the crazies say He hates us

And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke.

God can be funny,

When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way.

And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini

Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus

God can be so hilarious.

Ha ha.

No one laughs at God in a hospital

No one laughs at God in a war.

No one’s laughing at God

When they’ve lost all they’ve got

And they don’t know what for.

No one laughs at God on the day they realize

That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes.

No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes.

But God can be funny

At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or

Or when the crazies say He hates us

And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke.

God can be funny,

When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way.

And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus.

God can be so hilarious.

No one laughing at God in hospital.

No one’s laughing at God in a war.

No one’s laughing at God when they’re starving or freezing or so very

poor.

No one’s laughing at God.

No one’s laughing at God.

No one’s laughing at God.

We’re all laughing with God.

I Hate Moving!

I am so sorry that I have gone almost a week without a blog! That was totally not the plan, but with moving, starting back to work and not having internet, my blogging became difficult.




In case you were wondering... I got the place! Yay. But here's the thing, Columbus Day '09/Moving Day was one of the most on edge days I have experienced in a long time.  I seriously wanted to scream: "You are ruining moving day for us!" at everyone I came across.  Those of you who are fans of Friends with remember the episode where the boys move into the girl's apartment!

Here's a timeline of the events:

8am- I woke up, checked my e-mails and texts, crossed my fingers and said a prayer the day would go well.

9am- This should have been the time I met with the broker to sign the papers, but he was doing our credit check, so we technically didn't know if we had the apartment or not...Irritating.

10am- I show up at Budget to pick up my van to empty my storage space. I HATE dealing with these types of places. A- They make me feel stupid. B- They treat you like a piece of shit. C- I feel like it's always a scam because there are always added prices and fees. BULLSHIT!

1030am- Budget doesn't have the van I asked for, so they upgrade me to a larger truck. It ended up working out better spatially, but I was scared shitless driving this thing...it was HUGE. (That’s what she said! Ba Dum Chi)

11am- The fabulous T. Mack meets me and helps me to unload my Mini Manhattan Storage Space. It was much easier than we thought it would be!

1115am- I get word from my roommate that we just need one more form signed by my Dad and we will be good to go. Thank God!

Noon- T. Mack and I go to Sleepy's to pick up my bed. Of course they don't have the frame and the mattress protector, but at least I have the truck and don't have to pay for delivery. T and I have to carry the mattress out to the truck ourselves, which was fine, but then had to lift it about 6 feet to put in the truck. The plastic bag got caught on something so I climb in, under and around boxes to untangle it. At the same time I very nice man in the truck double parked behind us comes over and offers to help. Too bad I was behind the mattress when he shoved it and ended up on my ass in a pile full of broken glass.

1230pm- T. Mack and I revel in the fact that we look like serious trucker girls and eat our subway sandwiches!

1pm- After dropping off T at the bus stop, and almost hitting a crossing guard, I head uptown to unload and sign the papers.

2pm- After leaving my truck double parked, I have signed the papers to my new apartment and have the keys in hand.

430pm- With no help from my friends (love you guys, but this was not an easy process by myself), we have unloaded mine and my roommate's trucks into our apartment. This was after 80 trips on the scary freight elevator that was the size of a small bathroom. You couldn't fit more than a dresser in the lift at a time...this made it a long process.

445pm- I'm very excited that I can drop my truck off early, so I hop in the driver's seat and what happens? The stupid truck won't start. Now I spend 15 minutes on the phone with the emergency services for Budget, and after being yelled at and told that I broke the truck and would have to suffer the expenses, my roomies dad gets the truck started but says "Don't turn it of till you get there, because it might not start again!".

530pm- After stopping for gas with the truck running, I drop it off at Budget and basically once again get yelled at for being a "stupid girl, and a bad driver". You can kiss my business good-bye!

630pm- Indulge in pizza for the first time in months! Mama was hungry!

Midnight- First night in my own bed, in my own apartment!



The place looks great. My roommate is a peach. As in sweet, not as in form Georgia.

New York, I Love You... (2)

New York, I love you...but you are either trying to give me a coronary heart infarction, or are trying to make me bust through my pants.


I hate moving. Moving in New York City is one of the most painful processes to go through, and to top it off, the most costly expense you come across. Each time I turn around my credit/debit cards are being pulled out of my wallet or I'm fielding more stupid phone calls from 'so called' professionals. I have been on edge for the last three days since I found the place I want to live in, and why, because people are stupid!


It is amazing how patient I have grown over the last three years, especially the last month, but I'm coming close to my limit. The last thing someone moving in New York City wants is lies, and more expenses. My roommate and I were told we could move in Monday, so we acted on it. I canceled my storage unit, hired a budget van, and bought a mattress. All of these things were planned and scheduled, and then at 7pm on Sunday night we get a call saying 'Oops, sorry, you can't move in until Tuesday, we never did your credit check'. BASTARDS! Then they had the audacity to say we were too pushy, and then were warned that the management had a six month time frame immediately after signing the lease during which they could kick out uncooperative tenants! Why am I always being threatened by stupid people? We have done nothing but follow up on the status of our application, and then acted based on what we were being told, and yet we are being threatened before the lease has even been signed. And what kills me, is that these people get away with it because they KNOW we want the apartment. And if I had the money, and the time and the mental capacity I would say 'Peace Out' and look for another place. But I want this one, especially considering the brain power (and money) that has already been lodged into it.

So I sit here, on the couch of my friend’s apartment, while they are at a movie, because my heart was beating so fast that I wouldn't have been able to enjoy myself if I had gone. O, and since I'm an emotional eater, I had shitty vegetarian black bean chili (because I'm poor and couldn't afford real food) and then forced Ben & jerry's down my throat into my quickly growing stomach. So much for all the hard work I did in Pilates in Miami!

BOO I say, BOO!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear New York Real Estate People:


Stop lying and being stupid. I just want an apartment!


Many thanks,
Ashley
(someone who really doesn't want to have to kick your ass)

"I'm a Big Girl Now!"

I feel like 24 is the year I become a real adult. Sure I have been living in New York since I was 21, and I've been working and paying ALL my own bills for the last three years, but I finally feel like the adult that I've been wanting to be! Not to mention I think I'm actually starting to look like an adult instead of an amateur! And NO, my bra size is no different!




Since turning 24, I've lived in Miami and more importantly gotten a real apartment in New York.  One where I will finally have my own room. I haven’t had a room that I could call MY OWN in the last 4 years. And even before that I was sharing dorm rooms with roommates. There isn't even my own room at my parent’s house in Texas. Correction, I don't even have my own closet at their house. (I did at one point, but the last time I was home it was emptied of my items and stuffed with Lego houses and jazz-er-cize shit!)


The 'having my own room' thing is HUGE for me. I was semi-spoiled growing up and never had to share a room. I had my own pink floral room complete with bunk beds till I was 15, then had a beautiful silver and blue room with an amazing queen bed until I was a junior in college. It was all down hill from there: dorm rooms with 1 or more roommates, then sharing a room with my sister plus a former roommate in my parent’s house, and that’s before my family lived in a one room hotel suite for 2 months! Then it was back to bunk beds when I moved to NYC, and this time, they weren't for decoration or for making kick ass tents with sheets and towels (I know I’m not the only kid that did this, don't even try to deny it!).


So like I was saying, I will now have my very own room, and to top it off, my very own bed! And not just any bed a real bed, one that I bought all by myself today. O, did I forget to mention that since living in NYC (and even in Miami) I've been sleeping on air mattresses? So today I made the most adult-like purchase I've ever made: a full size pillow top mattress, box spring and frame! I can't believe it!  I feel so old!


I know you are thinking, "She is crazy, it's just an apartment"...but it's a NICE apartment!
And I know you are thinking, "She is crazy, it’s a bed"...but it's a REAL bed!
And I know you are thinking, "She is crazy, and I just don't care"....well BITE ME!



(thank you huggies pull-ups for the fabulous slogan)

New York I Love You...

When I initially started this blog entry I was going to use the lyrics "New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down", by LCD Soundsystem. It's from a fabulous, yet semi depressing song about living in NYC. Though it's all true, it's not done in the upbeat fashion of say "New York State of Mind" by Billy Joel.

At the time that I started this post I was incredibly overwhelmed in the Manhattan apartment search. I still am, but hopefully I'm done searching at this point. My roommate and I put in an application on a FABULOUS apartment, what we are now referring to as "Heaven on Broadway". (I know my Sex and the City fans get it!)  More accurately it's not on Broadway, but it makes us happy nonetheless.



If you have ever lived in NYC, especially Manhattan, you are aware of the painful process that is finding an apartment. Whether you are dealing with a broker you have enlisted, or one that you find on line, there are a thousand things that when put together, make you want to gouge your eyes out. We were lucky (as of now at least) and saw only 15 apartments. that's 14 more than I would have wanted t see, but we did the trek through the upper east side, then finally through the upper west side which is REALLY where we wanted to be. After seeing disgusting bathrooms, closets that they were trying to pass as bedrooms and one VERY large 'dancing' water bug, we had finally found a winner. You can tell it's a winner when my parents offer to be co-signers, without seeing the place, but just because there is an elevator. (Side note, thought my dad was going to pass out in my stairwell the first time he came to see me in my 5th Floor walk-up).


After filling out al the paperwork, and leaving a deposit so that they would lock the door, we proceeded to celebrate what we are hoping is the start of a fabulous life in our new apartment. Of course sacrifices are being made: I'm taking a smaller room (but I have a big closet), the bathroom is tiny (but not in comparison to most), there is no view of anything (but there is fabulous sunlight) and no dishwasher (but laundry is in this cute little area of the basement, which is SO clean). We are also paying more than what we initially were intending to pay (I’m having slight heart palpitations), but it will be worth it!


Now all I need is my former employer to stop jerking me around and give me my job back so I can make some moo-lah! Mama needs to buy a bed! So thank you New York...I thought you were trying to bring me down, but you were just reminding me that it wasn’t going to be easy…but definitely worth it!

Some of my favorite lyrics to

“New York, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down” :

New York, I Love You

But you're bringing me down

Like a rat in a cage

Pulling minimum wage

New York, you're safer

And you're wasting my time

Our records all show

You are filthy but fine

But they shuttered your stores
When you opened the doors
To the cops who were bored

Once they'd run out of crime

New York, you're perfect

So please don't change a thing

Your mild billionaire mayor's

Now convinced he's a king

So the boring collect

I mean all disrespect

In the neighborhood bars

I'd once dreamt I would drink

New York, I Love You

But you're freaking me out

There's a ton of the twist

But we're fresh out of shout

New York, I Love You

But you're bringing me down

Like a death of the heart

Jesus, where do I start?

But you're still the one pool

Where I'd happily drown

New York, I Love You

But you're bringing me down.

(thanks to lyricsmania.com)

(picture is of tom's restaurant, the famous diner from from seinfeld...now a staple of my new neighborhood!)

I Don't Get It!

I don't know how many people out there actually read what I have to say on a daily basis, and really, I don't care, it's not for you it's for me! BUT, if there are people reading this, I would really love it if you could respond to better help me understand the subject in which I am about to address!

Last night I had the privilege of seeing my good friend do a reading of a new play at the public. She was brilliant (I only have talented and pretty friends) and the play was awesome (funny with a little pull at your heart strings). So this made for a good night! When she got home (because I'm sleeping in her room until I find a place) she told me the leading man in the play had made a comment about some girl in the audience. He went up to her and commented that there was a cute girl in the front row (me), she then lovingly proclaimed I was her good friend, he then stated that I was wearing a short skirt, she responded by saying that I'm "so cute", which was followed by him stating he was trying to look up my skirt for most of the first act.

So, this led my head into a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Flattered was the first, he was cute, he noticed me, he thought I was cute...done and done! Then I was a bit taken aback that he was so open about his creepiness in admitting to look up my skirt...but maybe he thinks honesty is charming. Then I was left to look at the situation with a quizzical nature, and I'm still kind of dumbfounded, because I just don't get it...


...Why do men look up women's skirts? What are they hoping to find? Are they looking to see what kind of underwear we have on, or if there is any underwear at all? If that's the case, what do you think you will learn from what you find? I'm just concerned that I need to wear underwear that makes a statement, or maybe make sure I wear more than a thong! But, if guys aren’t looking to see whether I'm wearing lace or sheer, polka dots or stripes, and they are really hoping that I don't have ANYTHING on...WHY? Why on earth do you want to see the Va-jay-jay!!!???


Seriously! It's not cute! A little help here please!

Good to be Back

Dear New York City,
I know I haven’t been back for even 24 hours yet, but I need to thank you for the following things:

*Beautiful New York fall

*Cute restaurants

*Good food

*Fabulous drinks

*Even more fabulous drink specials (2 4 1, the best numbers ever!)

*Seriously awesome fashion trends

*Mind blowing theatre

*Amazing friends

*1000 possibilities for every day

So, as of this moment, you've done me good. Let’s keep it this way!

Kisses,

Ashley

(lover of life in NYC)

I WAS in Miami B#$%^

Sitting in the airport a good three hours before my flight seems like the only way that my month in Miami would end. Of course I planned on getting out of bed at the crack of dawn and swimming in the fabulous pool of the apartment complex. I thought the heat and the quiet and the water would be the perfect way to start my new lease on life! Ok, so it’s not a new lease, but I’m ready and rearing to go back to NYC.


Well obviously I didn’t get up early enough, then spent the hour before my shuttle came running around packing and getting ready. I managed to do my hair, but not my make-up, and stuff everything into my two suitcases and two carry-ons. I’m very proud of the fact that I have less stuff to bring on the actual flight with me, and that my bags only weighed 51.5 and 46 pounds. Fortunately a sweet smile got me out of shifting the extra weight, and paying an extra bag fee!

But now I am here, with nothing to do but eat bad airport food (my least favorite part of traveling, the vegetarian options are donuts and bagels), and reflect on my trip.


Before I came to Miami I met with an ‘angel reader’. I take the supernatural stuff with a grain of salt, but I find it fascinating nonetheless. She told me I needed to take the time and ground myself, and that the only way I would find what I wanted to do with my life was to tune out the external and focus on the internal. I think I subconsciously did that. I didn’t sit and say, “ok, focus on you” I just did. I am in such a state of calm and peace, aside from a screaming match with my roommate, which I won, (sorry girl!) I have had no freak-outs. These freak-outs come in many forms, yelling at cab drivers, crying at Starbucks, compulsive eating. Aside from just being really hungry, I’ve been good!


The time I have spent here in Florida has given me a insite into what I need in my life. As much as the sun and the weather make me instantly happy, I need what Miami is definitely lacking…real people. I’m not saying that people down here aren’t nice, but there is just too much of a façade over the whole city that is just being sucked into all who reside there. The boobs are fake, the hair is fake, the faces are fake, even some of the accents are fake. But sadly, these deceptions don’t stop at face value. The people down in Miami have the general air that they are hiding something. It’s not like New York where people are constantly trying to improve and grow into a better version of themselves, the people of Miami are lying to themselves and those around them that this is who they are. What’s worse than this deceit is that the personalities they are taking on are rude, crass, obnoxious and trashy. All I can say to this is: “BOO”!


So here I am, excited and confident that going back to NYC is what I need. The city isn’t for everyone, but it has the class, the grace and the energy that fuel my life. It also has a margin of bitchiness that I couldn’t be without; I’ve spent four weeks in a place where my sarcasm has been wasted. So thank you Miami for helping to see why I moved to NYC in the first place, and for giving me a fabulous tan to go back with!

           -----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear New York City,

Hi again! I know that you have missed me as much as I have missed you. But I have just one small request…

…please be nice to me!



I think after three years it’s the least you can do!


Thank you,
Ashley
(A legit New Yorker!)

I Just Might

I am sitting in my apartment in Miami thinking about all I have to do to prepare for my early morning shuttle pick-up that will being my trek back home to NYC. There are the obvious things like laundry, packing, cleaning, eating the left-over food, finishing the bottle of wine, getting in a few more minutes outside in the fabulous weather. But there are the mental things I need to prepare for as well: returning to work, getting my finances under control, finding an apartment, getting back into the audition circuit, not getting fat. I think the most daunting task ahead is not getting sucked back into what led me to run away in the first place.

I've spent the last four weeks improving my mental and physical health and finding out what is important to me. I can't wait to be back in New York, but there is this air of impending doom that I'm having a hard time shaking. I know it's just nerves, I mean; I have been living a completely different life for the last four weeks. So how do I balance the things I know I want and need with the things I have to do as a basic requirement on living and performing in the city? I don't know but I hope I can figure it out.

I was driving in the car today and stumbled on some of my favorite songs. They just so happen to be from the 9 to 5 Original Cast Recording. These songs were staples of my iPod listening routine before I left the city. I found them comforting in a time of confusion, but I think at the time they left me feeling a little more somber. I heard what I think is my theme song this afternoon, and instead of feeling overwhelmed and grasping at straws, I felt far more optimistic and positive about what's ahead for me.


Here are the lyrics to my theme song:

"I Just Might" written by Dolly Parton for 9 to 5 The Musical

What to do and where to start?

Things are falling all apart.

Trying hard to move ahead,

But keep losing ground instead.

Still, I have to take a chance.

Putting fear and doubt aside.

Had no warning in advance,

Nothing left to do but try.

And I just might make it work.

I just might make it after all.

I just might rise above the hurt,
Though I've suffered quite a fall.

But I have to get a grip.

Hold onto it like a vice.

Have to face the fallen chips.

I just might make it,

I just might.

You're the one that keeps me strong,

You're the shoulder that I lean on.

(Hard to swallow pride...)

When I think I've had enough,

I think of you and toughen up.

(I know the truth inside.)

Love's a weapon and tool.

And I am nobody's fool.

(I'm nobody's fool.)

I just try to right what's wrong,

And just keep on keeping on.

But I just might make it work.

I just might make it after all.

I just might rise above the hurt,

Though I've suffered quite a fall.

I might live to see the day...

I can say "Hey! I'm all right"

I'm all right.

Have to go on either way.

Have to go on...

Rise above it.

I just might be stronger than I know,

Well I might really be surprised,

Gonna get on with my life.

And be strong.

I just might make it,

I just might.

I just might make it.

I just might!

I just might.

(love to my nyc girls, you keep me sane and strong and i can't wait to see you)

BuffaLOVE!

In case I haven’t mentioned it yet, I was born and raised in Buffalo! I have no intentions of ever moving back, but I do hold a serious amount of hometown pride. I think everyone from Buffalo (or B-Lo) shares this unique connection to one another and our beloved city. That connection may be a deep understanding of sucky athletic teams or deep fried food, it doesn't matter...Buffalo people LOVE Buffalo people.

We show up! We represent! We make our presence and our love known! And we ban together when the going gets rough, and especially when the beer starts flowing! Our love crosses all races, all classes and all states. It's all for one and one for Buffalo!


This deep b-lo pride and Buffalove was in full force this weekend down here in Miami. The Bills (no one circles the wagon, like the Buffalo Bills) were in town to play the Dolphins. It's what the newspapers were calling 'The Buffalo Invasion'! 1,500 people were said to have shown up to party hard and share in out deep beliefs of Buffalo Bills DOMINATION. Yes, we are aware of our statistics and our previous records, but we are ALWAYS optimistic. GO BUFFALO!

I was very excited to see the familiarity of the blue and red, the new and old jerseys, and the plethora of 'T.O/B-LO' t-shirts! I went with my girlfriends to the game and OF COURSE we went early to tailgate! We found the best strip of people and cars with the essential tailgating essentials: grills, beer, wings, Salens hot dogs and beer! I understand that's how most teams technically do the parking lot munchies, but we rock it out hard core! After feeling all upbeat and loved we went inside to our fierce clubhouse seats! Very quickly though our excitement died and so did our buzz!

As to be expected we were surrounded by Dolphins fans. And as to be expected we got harassed for being Buffalo girls. As to be expected there was trash talk. As to be expected T.O. dropped a couple passes. Then as to be expected there was even more trash talking. What was NOT what I was expecting was to be literally screamed at by trashy Miami women, and men, for have a sort of pride in a team that maybe needed a little more finesse. And what we didn't expect was to have fists thrown and beer poured. All I can say to that is '0-16' and 'don't be wasteful'.  Buffalo girls are classy.

Needless to say, security was called. The trash was taken out. I physically took a beating from the sun. And my Buffalo ego took a pounding with a 37-10 loss. But we walked out with our heads held high, and our beers in our hands! There's always next week.



Dear Miami Dolphins Fans;
Hi, I haven’t addressed you directly, though some of you have fallen into my skeezy guy and trashy girl letters. There are a couple of things we should discuss, and by discuss I mean: I will point out, and YOU will change!
1- It is impressive that all of 2 cars show up to tailgate before noon for a 4pm game, but that's NOTHING compared to a B-Lo event. Get on the ball, 'cause we will out cook you and drink you with our eyes closed.
2- It is NOT impressive that the only pre-game trash talk you can come up with is that your team was undefeated in 1972. I wasn't even born yet, therefore...not a good line and I DON'T CARE!

3- Of course you should root for your team. Do the chants, sing the songs, call out at the players, but please DON'T do it in my ear. Or at least do it in my right ear, because after today I'm pretty sure I'm deaf in that one.
4- If you are a trashy girl at a football game, it's probably best NOT to start trouble with the pretty girls at the game. Couple reasons here...you look ridiculous, we are tougher than we look, and when we call-security comes.
5- If you choose to be belligerent to the opposing/visiting team, DO NOT THROW BEER. To a Buffalonian that is just WASTEFUL. We would rather take a punch than waste a good beer. (If you follow this train of thought-we will be drunk and it won't hurt so much-DUH).
6- Your little songs that you sing, um....SUCK. If someone wants to drive me to the lengths of going Van Gough on myself, PLEASE, put me in a room with the 'Fins' song from the Miami games. I swear, if I heard 'Fins to the left. Fins to the Right. We're at the only game in town'...I will do the previously mentioned act and be glad!
7- I would like to take a quick second to apologize to you 'Fins' fans though. I'm sorry that you're stupid. It's quite unfortunate that you can't follow the rules and engagements of football and that you need to be prompt for EVERYTHING that is going on on the field. Seriously, did you really need the announcer to say 'and that's another Miami Dolphins...First Down', every fucking time? Seriously! Annoying!
8- And my last point is that you have horrible, HORRIBLE pride for your team. A- Your stadium was empty. B- You like to spend more time causing trouble than watching the game. And C- you leave at half-time whether you are up or down. My response to that is: A- come to a game in Buffalo in December in -10 degrees, we are still full. B- The only time we cause problems is when we are out of beer. And C- there is a whole half hour left in the game after half time, anything can happen.

So Miami fans, take this, absorb it, and apply it, because I'll be back. And remember, we the Bills might have sucked today, but you guys suck just about every day. Eh, eh, 0-16...or should I say 1-15 for this season?!

Thank You,
Ashley
(Believer in all things BuffaLOVE)

Let Me Repeat Myself!

Dear the Men of Miami,


Hi. Remember me? I tried to give you some words of advice a bout a week ago, but apparently you need an English to English translation. On behalf of the women that are unfortunate to come in contact with you, let me be blunt about what IS NOT acceptable.

Just because a woman wears a low cut shirt/dress, this is not an invitation for touching. Looking, is acceptable, eat it up. Savor it. If you behave, I might even let you take a picture of my hotness. But DO NOT think that the extra skin I have showing is screaming for your grimy hands rubbin' all up on it.

It is a red flag to a woman if you need to use her to get into a club. I don't care if you have a deal with the bouncer. I don't care if you are VIP in the hotel. There is OBVIOUSLY a reason why they won't let you in. Yes, it is easier for women to get into the clubs, but they DO let in men. I mean, if they didn't, we wouldn't go. So take a minute to assess your situation and then maybe we can talk about you buying me a drink.

This is for the Male Bouncers out there. You may be in the position to let me in or not. You may be able to make me stand around like a little dog begging to be fed. But really, you're not that cool. You are big, and sometimes scary, but get over yourselves for two minutes, take out the ear piece that we all know is just for show, and observe the situation in front of you. Pretty girls, trying to get inside your most likely lame-o club, to dance around, score some drinks and bring your establishment business which ultimately pays your rent. See, we can all win in this scenario...so stop being ASSES!
Thank You Very Much,
Ashley


----------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Ladies of Miami,

Hi. A little friendly advice. Get control of yourself. 9/10ths of you look ridiculous. Maybe you should drink a little less, wear a teeny bit more clothing, and surround yourself with people that genuinely love you and care about you. I would suggest dropping the assholes that allow you to think it's acceptable to fly off the handle as a belligerent drunk. These people, are using your as their own form of entertainment. They are not your friends; your friends will call you out on your shit, get your ass home and hold your hair while you are puking. Remember this when you are screaming at them for ruining your night. They didn't ruin it...YOU did.

I understand shit happens, we've all been there. But try to contain yourself, and this includes fraternizations on the dance floor with the gross men I've already laid into.

Have fun. But STOP.  BEING.  SO.  STUPID!

Love You,
Ashley

(sorry, no fun pictures, i'm trying to be serious!)
(ok, well not really!)

Oh Mom!

I got out of my Pilates class this morning and did what I have gotten into the habit of doing not just for the last month that I've been in Miami, but the last 6.5 years that I have lived away from home. I called my mother. Now I say 'mother' with this sarcastic groan, but the truth of the matter is... I love my mom. No, I don't just love her in the 'she's my mom so I love her' way, I fucking love her! She cracks my shit up on a daily basis.


Quick info about my mom. My mother was a stay at home mom for the entirety of my childhood. I didn't go to pre-school, I had fold laundry/watch soaps with mom school. She was there when I got home every day from Kindergarten till Senior Year. She raised not only me and my three siblings, but arguably the entire neighborhood and our best friends as well. Even before we were all enrolled in full days at school my mom was babysitting and essentially giving us a huge extended family! There were always people in my house, my mom was baking and helping with projects, chaperoning field trips and dances, organizing fundraisers, rhinestoning costumes, baking (I already said that, but we ate a lot), and carpooling all over the Western New York Area.
My mom is the first person to step up in a crisis, and is arguably one of the nicest people you will ever meet. I'm proud to say I get a lot of my characteristics from her. But my mom... is a bitch. Yes I said it, once again adding to the fact that we are very much alike. When I was a senior in High School, we were given the 'Nicest Bitches You Know' award. I thought it was hysterical, my mom, not so much. And by 'not so much' I mean she was mortified. It took her about a year to accept the title, and now she will openly admit that she is going to hell. At least we'll be there together.

I have no doubt my mother will be a frequent topic of my blog, so I'll skip ahead to today's conversation. Now, remember how supportive and encouraging my mother is, well phrases like "Hey Becker, You Suck" are just the beginning. She was telling me about my youngest brother's football game and how everyone around them was talking about how great he was, but not talking to my parents, they had no idea that the star on the field belonged to them. My mom was so proud, and chose to express this to my brother as: "Thank you for not sucking today, it was actually nice to be your parent".

When I first went away to school my trucker mouth grew exponentially, not that it was all that good before, but I would always get reamed at by my mother that I wasn’t speaking "lady like". I think she was mostly concerned that my youngest brother, who I have a solid 8 years on, was going to pick these things up. Now, she lovingly refers to him as "That little shit" and "Your dumbass brother". I like to think that I opened up her vocabulary a little bit, and for that I take great pride.

So for any of you that watch the TV show Modern Family, they ain't got nothin’ on the Beckers!

(modern family on abc, weds at 9pm)