My NYC Survival Tips

Over the last week I have started two new jobs, while rehearsing for a dance video, catering, babysitting and as of yesterday all while fighting a cold. Oh, and did I mention we had a little bed bug incident? I have become a jack of all trades, at least when it comes to the restaurant business, and though I hate it, sometimes you have to do things to make everything else worth it.  Anyways, I've learned a lot about myself and the city the last four years, and I constantly have people asking me about New York when they consider moving here... so here are my survival tips. Please don't confuse the 'S' words- I said these were ways to survive, not succeed! I'm still working on the later!

*Comfy Shoes*

- This is pretty self explanatory! Don't let those girls on Sex and the City mislead you- flats, boots, sneakers and wedges are your key to making it through the crap load of blocks you'll be walking!

- Rain boots are a must! No one wants soggy feet, so get a pair and get the thermal inserts for the winter. Plus they are super cute, especially in the summer! Trust me; you will be glad you have them when you approach a street corner that requires a Gondola to get across!

*Sanity*
- Just be aware that you will lose it, over and over and over again!

*Tray Holding Skills*
- It sucks, but restaurants equal flexible hours and decent money. These skills will help you move from one job to another pretty easily, and if you are anything like me, you will move around a lot due to lacking sanity and boredom.
*Splurge*
- There is too much going on in this city to not enjoy it! Allow yourself to have that girl's night or those super cute shoes! Withholding things from your life makes you bitter and jaded, and that will happen soon enough anyways!
- Get yourself an AC unit for your window. It may seem unnecessary and excessive, but you could save a few dollars and go crazy or just get the damn unit.

*Become a Regular*
- I always loved how in movies of the city the character would be walking down the street and the street cart vendor would know their name. It was so silly, but it does happen. Even though there are millions of people in the city, you will see some of the same people every day! So, smile at the doorman!
- Go to the same Bodega every day- these guys will not only hook you up, but they will offer their cat to you when you have a mouse, and help you break into your apartment when you are locked out.
- Go to the same bar every Friday (or Tuesday or everyday). Even if you have one drink, the bartender that you have now gotten to know will be excited to see you. You may get a free drink, but you will also be bringing light to someone who was surrounded by tourists, bad tippers and nasty managers, even if just for a few minutes.  Just don't go and be a creepy stalker and don't go in expecting anything.
- Get to know your Barista. There is a Starbucks on every corner, sometimes two on each, so get to know the people making your much needed caffeinated beverages. You don't have to chat them up, but maybe get to know their name. It will make those quick trips even quicker, and you might even get an upgrade!

*Avoid Times Square*
- You can also add Harold Square and the Abercrombie on Fifth Ave to that as well. The people, AKA Tourists, will make you crazy!
*Know How to Navigate*
- NYC is a pretty easy city to navigate around, thanks to the numbers system! But, be sure you know that Uptown is the Bronx, Downtown is to Brooklyn, Queens is to the East and New Jersey is to the West! This will help when getting on and off trains! Think ahead, and if you are lost, do NOT stop in the middle of the street, move to the side.
- Know your public restrooms. When you are out and about all day, the use of a restroom will become dire. Some places will make you buy something, but in others you can be more discreet. Just think ahead and always make it look like you are supposed to be there, even if you're not!
- Do what a true New Yorker does: Walk, Shop, Eat, Drink, REPEAT!

*You Will NEVER Have Enough Money*
- You just won't. Even if you are Donald Trump. The city is expensive and demanding. So save when you can but don't stress, it will work out somehow, just keep plowing through.
- Even though you know you have no money, there are of course people worse off than you, but don't try to give money to everyone! Half of the people standing on the street are scamming you, and the other half would take an apple if you had it, so keep an extra granola bar in your bag and give it to the deserving instead.

*Watch What Car You Get On*
- Don't get excited when the subway pulls in and the car in front of you is completely empty; this only happens when it is either without AC or when a homeless person is rotting away! Go to the next car!

*McDonalds is NOT Your Friend*
- Don't let the dollar menu and supersize options cloud your mind- McDonalds is not the way to proper nutrition. I lived off of Mcy D's when I first moved to the city, I thought it was great! It was saving me money, and it had options for every meal, and great little snacks too! Then I realized I was fat! Don't do what I did! Don't do it!

*You May Be Bigger Than Them, but They Are Everywhere*
- I'm talking about bugs! It's a dirty city, filled with tunnels and bridges and millions of people constantly in transit. You need to be prepared to see a cockroach in the bathroom, a rat in the subway and yes... deal with Bedbugs. It sucks! It's not fun at all, but suck it up and deal with it!

*Allow Yourself Some R & R*
- The city is grueling and stressful. This place will rape you of your sanity and your money. You need to allow yourself a break! Take a mental health day and if you can, take it out of the city! Go away to the Hamptons, or even Jersey. Take a trip or even just a day to the beach, close your eyes and relax because the second you get back it'll be like you never left.

*Be Nice*
- Even though cabbies don't have feelings, you should still be nice to them because Karma is a bitch!
- Subtlety is key especially with celebrities. You may think you are being nice by indulging them with flattery, but the nicer thing to do, is just leave them alone!
- Smile when you walk down the street. I'm not saying full on teeth smile, but you'd be surprised how refreshing it is to pass someone who looks happy. Oh, and you never know who you're going to pass, it could be your big break!
- Don't burn bridges! Everyone knows each other in this city! You will be black listed before you can say "SJP" if you mess with the wrong person!
- Call your mother- or she will call you. Until you answer. And annoy you like hell. Oh, is that just my mother? Ok then, use when necessary!

*Happy Hour*

- This will be the best thing that has ever happened to you. Cheap drinks, discounted tapas and men in suits looking to impress! When all is said and done you are home and in bed (drunk) by eleven and have spent half as much money as a crazy night out!

*Tip Properly*

- Considering you will most likely work in the service industry at some point, it's a matter of karma. Tip your bartender, your cabbie and even your doorman. Trust me, they will be nicer to you and life will be easier! Think of 15% as being the bare minimum, 20% should be standard, and of course give more when deserved!

*Love Your Gays*

- Everyone has a gay best friend, but these fabulous people make the essence of the city. They have the best clubs, they always love to brunch, they never lie about clothes and hair, they love to gossip, they will never ever let you drink alone, they always enjoy a Barbara or Liza sing-a-long and they truly appreciate your breasts! Not only are they fabulous but they make you more fabulous when you are around them! (And if you ask nicely, they will usually make-out with you too!)

*F-R-I-E-N-D-S*

- Make them. Love them. Appreciate them. Be good to them. Good friends are hard to find and in NYC they become your family. Having people that make you happy and laugh, that kick you in the ass and hold your hair back when you puke are the only way you will make it day to day in this city. So if you thought you could do it alone, good luck, I'll be out with my girls!

The Russian!

I. TALKED. TO. FUCKING. BARYSHNIKOV!

Living in NYC and working in restaurants I've had my fair share of celebrity run-ins. But I only use the word 'met' when said person and I have exchanged words, when my presence has actually been acknowledged. I don’t care if I was possibly a mirage in their drunken state or even if they never fully focused on my face! They looked at me and said words (most of them coherent) to me!

 

My most recent fabulous NYC celebrity moment was with the most famous dancer in the world (and he's so pretty). He looks just as good as when he was on Sex and the City. If you haven't caught on yet, I met Mikhail Baryshnikov. I told my sister who I met and she was like "who?” UMMM, Google him! If you are not in the dance world you might remember him as the sexy Russian who was Carrie's love interest in the last season of the show, who whisked her off to Paris and never showed her the love she was longing for. Well he was sexy on that show and he's just as sexy now! Not a tall man, but a good looking one! It would have made it all even better if I saw him dance in person, but this was good enough.

To him, he was just another person, but to me he was BARYSHNIKOV! He was cordial and sociable. He wished me a good rehearsal and a beautiful day! I would have preferred to have not looked like a fat, shmucky dancer in soccer shorts and a TEXAS t-shirt, but it didn't matter! He was there; I spoke with him and got to add another fun name to my list of run-ins!

Some of my other favorites include:

Liza Minnelli- We met twice! Once in a dance class and once at an audition. It helped my former dancer teacher was friends with her and introduced us! She held my hands, called me beautiful and I piddled!

Matt Morrison- I was working the FOX Upfronts where the entire cast was mingling, but he was the one I spoke with! He passed me, took two steps back, stared down at my breasts, and then asked if my tray was for discards. After blushing and being slightly flattered, I remembered I was 'the help' and went back to hating my life!

Tim Daly- He was with his wife and daughter in my old restaurant. He was so good looking and very quite. I was composed, but my manager was not! He insisted we send over dessert even though he refused it twice! In the end he tipped well and left me with an up-close look at his smile!


Stay tuned for more fun filled NYC Celbrity Files!

In Dedication

I know you can barely believe that it's been a month since I've last posted and you can't wait for my usual commentary on life filled with bitter and jaded diatribes, catty bitchiness or self loathing, but you'll have to look elsewhere for the time being. Today's blog is a dedication to friends, family and the little angels that change your life when you least expect it.


I started this blog as a form of release and it has really helped me to work out some of my emotions and feelings. Even when I'm not posting, I’m writing.  This has become a form of therapy; it has helped me with my issues and I’m hoping that now it helps me to come to terms with a great loss.


There are moments in your life when you are tested. Will you sink or swim? Do you fight or fly? Are you strong enough to stand next to someone in their time of need and not say a word? Can you put aside your pain to care for someone who is grieving deeper than you? Do you know how to go with the flow and figure things out as they come along?


I met my best friend close to six years ago, and the day I met her she had her father in tow. It didn't take long to see not only was this vibrant, talented, passionate and endearing personality going to be a huge part of my life, but her family was going to be too! Over the years we've shared many a car ride, built lots of furniture for Jules’s apartments and enjoyed the many theatrical experiences that the city has to offer! I always enjoyed spending time with the 'fam', and truly felt like another daughter when I was toted along to dinners and holiday gatherings.

When I learned of Mr. R's passing my heart broke. Not only could I not imagine seeing his big and bright presence any more (literally big, he was well over 6 foot), but I couldn't possibly imagine the sadness my best friend was feeling. All I wanted was to be by her side and hold her hand. I felt her loss, but I saw her pain. There is nothing more jarring than watching your friend cry and know there is nothing you can say or do to make her feel better. So as I learned, you say nothing. You stand there. You stroke her hair and hold her hand until she either asks you for space or to get her a beer... and of course, you move without a second thought.

I'm not always sure what to say or how to act in certain situations, but I wanted to take care of everything possible, but there was very litle for me to do because of the amazing women who were buzzing around arranging each and every detail before it was even a spec of a thought. These angels were Mrs. R's friends. They were not only thoughtful, compassionate, caring and insightful but truly encapsulated the definition of true friends! Absolutely incredible! I wish my words could do them justice, but there are not enough ways to describe their beauty and grace as they glided across the room to ease the wait of people in line, or they way they grinned and bared it when the creepy funeral home director hit on them, or the absolute love that exuded from their every orifice as they held hands, passed out beers and cried softly when their friend needed to know she was not alone. These women were not only the symbols of unconditional love and friendship, but they were the angels sent down to not only protect the fragile heart of their dear friend but to show her she was not alone. I found myself not only wanting to be these women because of their organization, their quick thinking and strong shoulders to cry on, but the lives that they had created and were living fully. They had their careers, their children, their husbands, their friends, their trips, their fun, their Limoncello and their well timed sense of humors.


Those of us who got to know Mr. R were lucky, and those of us whom were fortunate enough to be loved by him were truly blessed. I will truly miss you Papa R! Thank you for all the car rides, the packing tips, the smiles, the hugs, the shows, the encouragement, the meals, the support and for sharing your love of music with me. What you did more than all those things though was provide an example of what true, unwavering and adoring love is. Each time you looked at your wife I knew I was in the presence of a perfect and soulful match, and now that I see it is out there I will strive to find it. But lastly, I must thank you for my best friend. She is a product of love, strength, encouragement and positivity. She is the best person I know, something she must have picked up from her two fabulous parents.  I promise to take good care of her, because she is not only my friend but my sister!

How Sweet It Is ...

... to be loved by you!



If you live in New York City, especially as an artist, you are aware of how often you need to take a look at your current path and reevaluate. Well, I'm no different. I'm always wondering what I'm doing with my life, I blame my mother for encouraging me to be a dancer! I'm not to the point where I'm really going to give up my dreams of performing, but I have become far more interested in adding choreographing and directing to my To-Do list.


My latest endeavor has been choreographing a solo for a Miss New York State contestant. I was never a beauty pageant ("scholarship program"- Miss Congeniality anyone?) girl, but I love a challenge. Not that working with the fabulous Claire Buffie has been a challenge at all! Claire is not only beautiful, intelligent and well spoken, she can dance (and she's not even a 'dancer'). I've never been involved with a hard-core pageant, so when I was approached to choreograph a solo for the talent portion, I was nervous yet flattered.

The challenge with a pageant is appealing to the masses and standing out! Talents can be anything from singing, dancing, baton twirling, anything- so establishing a stand-out is a little daunting! Claire is a fabulous dancer who excels in stage presence and has a fabulous penché, but a razzle-dazzle number was not what she had in mind! So now, I'm choreographing something full of heart and emotion, but it can't be too deep because it needs to be entertaining to the average eye!

 

Without giving anything away, I'm not about to tip off the competition, we came up with a fabulous solo! Oh, and did I mention it could only be 90 seconds! Not any easy task, but together Claire and I did it and in only a few hours! My best wishes go out to Claire! Good Luck and kick butt!

 

(Since it's always nice to have things written about you check out Claire's Blog to see what she said about me! Then Check out her fabulous photography and get in touch with her for all of your photo needs!)

http://misssoutheastny2010.blogspot.com/2010/04/ashley-becker-aaaaamazing.html

Just Lick It!

Ok... I swear... It's not that dirty! (Well I guess that depends on what you are thinking dirty is!)


I went out for one of my BFF's Birthdays (don't let previous blogs confuse you, I love you Neil), and ended up with an interesting night! I'll cut to the chase: I dropped my phone, my brand new blackberry in pretty light purple, in the toilet!

 

The night started off with a couple of cocktails of course, some chit chat and catch up with some old friends and ended up in the toilet! My phone was in the back pocket of my jeans and when I went to use the restroom I pulled down my pants and out popped my phone into the toilet bowl of the upstairs bathroom of The Irish Rogue! If you are anything like me (poor, stingy, electronically challenged) you take great pride in your possessions and take care of them like they are your children! My new investment was an extension of my arm. I loved that phone and all its beautiful features more than I could possibly express to you. The relationship that my Blackberry Curve and I had was the longest relationship I have ever been in. Three weeks of bliss! But I digress. So, pants are down around my ankles, phone is in the toilet, so obviously in thrusts my hand (into the toilet), and because this is how my life works... it gets stuck (the phone).

So picture this if you will: bar bathroom, pants around my ankles, squatting above a crappy bar toilet (you couldn't pay me to sit on that), purple Blackberry Curve in the toilet, my hand in the toilet trying to fish out said phone. FINALLY, I got the phone out and it was responding to my commands, yet it was oozing water. Thankfully the bathroom had a hand dryer so I did my business while holding the phone under the dryer. But, it didn't look good (for me or the phone).

 

I ran out of the bathroom to my best friend Julia, whom loves me unconditionally and knows me better than I know myself. Feeling comforted in the fact that my best friend would not only be helpful but would have sympathy for me I started crying about my phone's sad condition! She responded by laughing, pointing and laughing some more! After she was done 'consoling' me, she went into helpful helper mode and instructed me to lick the battery that she was now holding in her hand. Apparently this is a 'trick' to suck out the water from a phone battery that has come in contact with copious amounts of water. The first thought that I had was: I don't want to get electrocuted. The second thought I had was: I'm desperate. The third was: just do it.

Yes, I know what you are thinking! I should have probably prefaced that I am stupid, and when I drink I'm even stupider. So NO, thoughts such as: "How would a wet tongue help a wet battery?" or "this battery was in the TOILET" didn't go through my head. So there I stood in the middle of a bar licking my battery for all the patrons to see. Meanwhile I have Julia yelling in my ear: "You have to write about this! You have to write about this! Put this in your blog". Well, DUH, but at the time this was NOT helpful, I was a little busy at the time.


Just in case you were wondering, this "licking of the battery" did not work.  I was told that sticking my phone is a bag of rice would help. And because I carry a bag of rice in my gym bag everything was magically fixed! NOT! (Have you just met me? I don't get tidy wrap ups!). Anyways, not only do I not carry rice in my handbag, I don't even have rice in my apartment and I’m not sure that quinoa would have worked, though I didn't even bother to try!

Though my story wasn't short this is how my night ended with a broken phone and the next day started with a hangover. To clarify: I was drinking when I dropped my phone in the toilet, I got drunk after!

Crazy Cabby

My brother had this game for PS2 called 'Crazy Taxi' and I used to love it. You'd drive around big cities trying to get people to their destinations quickly and score points. Obviously you tried not to kill any bystanders or drive on the lawn but that didn't always happen.

Now, fast forward to 2010 in Manhattan. A Sunday night and a girl with a few glasses of merlot in her and a crazy cab driver. The ride started with him saying "GOOOOD MORNING" (Fuck). I gave him my address, grabbed my new blackberry and started plugging away at Facebook. He wouldn't start driving until he grilled me about Jackie Gleeson and why I never watched The Jackie Gleeson Show. (Um, I wasn't born).

Within the first three blocks, I knew that this guy was crazy. All I could think of is 'how is this going to end'. It very easily could have been the most hysterical cab ride of my life or the one that ended with me dead in the east river. The more we drove the more it felt like the later was the possibility (only me), so I kept updating my status on Facebook with my location and the cab number!


In the fifty blocks that it took to get to my apartment he showed me the weather in Manhattan and gave me a tutorial on how to use the around the world features on his iPhone. Mind you, this was all done while he was hanging through the small barrier (eyes on the road please). Next came the lecture on why I shouldn't get an iPhone: "This phone is bad news" WHY? "Because it's addicting and you will never get work done" WHY? "Because you can watch porn!"... And with that he was driving with his knees, was almost completely past the barrier with both hands on his iPhone showing me a porno in full stream (and I thought half the time was spent buffering).


I'm not sure if I was in shock, or if I was just tipsy (I did drunk dial my mother earlier), or that I just didn't want to get out to hail another cab in the rain (I'm lazy), but I stayed in the car! The guy was crazy! I could have died! But at least if I did, I would have been watching porn when it happened! Oh NYC, you never cease to amaze me!

Is this Nova?

 I've said it before- my family needs its own reality show! We are hysterical! And no, that's not just me saying this; it's all the people that have spent any sort of time with us! In my family we are all very unique personalities, so it's a good balance of sarcasm, stupidity, snarky, silly and outrageous jokes, actions and stories! But, when the 6 Becker's are in one room, anything and anyone is fair game! No one is safe when we are getting to a punch-line, and obviously the funnier one sibling is, the harder the others try to out do them!

Personalities:

Me- In case you haven't noticed, I'm very matter of fact. I call it like it is- then I heighten reality for dramatic effect! I also like to retell stories- sometimes I can be long winded, but I will always leave you laughing. (I’m the funniest).

Allison- She is naturally dramatic so her actions and comments are usually so extreme that either she's laughing at herself so hard (and everyone else is staring at her) or we are all dying from tears and laughter (and she is sulking). It's a rare occasion when both are happening at the same time, and still someone is usually left out of the equation.

Aaron- He is great at physical comedy. He's almost 6' tall and 200 pounds- but the kid can prance or roll or attempt to shove himself into an end table like no one else I know! But, Aaron is also very sensitive, so he's often the only one not laughing at something. Therefore Aaron's retaliation is not in fun or jest, but as shear revenge- usually low blows that are more difficult to brush off, no matter how good your sense of humor is.

Austin- He's the baby, so he's just coming into his funny. Austin's sense of humor is a mix of all of us, when he doesn't get performance shy- but usually he's so stupid that you can't help but get a giggle. (i.e. Rolling around in the snow in his underwear. Stupid? YES. Funny? OH YES. But Stupid? YES!)


Now, add my parents into the mix. My dad and I have the sarcasm covered, so a comedic moment is rarely missed with our commentary. Dad knows just how to push all of our buttons! The best accomplishment for any of us kids is getting him to laugh! His dry humor doesn't translate to out and out 'out bursts' of laughter, so when it happens you definitely get bonus points. And my mother? Naturally she finds all her kids funny (even when she shouldn't) and to be honest, her silly and harmless antics are often the brunt of our punch lines. But she always takes it in stride! Just don't tell her that she is judging you... she gets pissed!



So what do you get when you put 6 Beckers with some family, a few new friends, millions of strangers and rides? The Beckers in Disney!


Here are just a few of our antics:

Allison punched Aaron in the face. He was poking her to get her attention and Allison does not like to be touched, therefore Aaron got it square in the face! I obviously made fun of this ridiculousness for the next four days! Aaron did not find it funny, which made it even better for me!

Is this Nova? This was Austin's catch phrase for the week. He would walk up to a character and whisper in their ears "is this Nova?" to find out if the person inside was Allison's friend to whom Austin took a big liking to! To cut to the chase- Austin thinks he's black, Nova is black, and so they were brothers all week. I'm pretty sure that Austin even shed a tear when Nova had to say goodbye. Oh, I should mention that Austin is 16 years old, so a 16 year old boy running up to a furry creature in Disney is quite a site to see!

You are looking fabulous! This was how my mother woke us up every morning. This was how we left the suite every day and this is how we went to bed every night. My mother said this so much that I put her on a quota! Yes, it sounds mean but if you heard my mother saying it in her high pitched voice you would have done the same. The problem wasn't just that it was annoying, but that it was a flat out lie 90% of the time. Telling me that I look 'fabulous' does not have as much meaning when 2 hours earlier she said the same thing when I had toothpaste dried on my face, bed head and drool on my shirt.

Obviously this is just the tip of the iceberg as far as family stories go! It was non stop entertainment for 5 days. But for good measure I will leave you with this: pictures of us trying to fit into the coffee table (before we broke it)!

[Shout out to Heather, Lori, Jerry, Mary, Jerry, Sam, Sharon, Larry, Sharron and April for making our trip so great! And Nova...duh!]

I Quit!

Yep, you heard it (read it) right, I'm done with the bar! I quit! And of course it's brought me highs and lows, even in only one week! I'll be fine...I'm just dramatic (but you knew that already)!

My quitting came about for two reasons. #1 was that it probably wasn't a good idea to keep working in a place that made me want to poke people in the eye with my wine opener! No it wasn't just my coworkers and bosses, but the customers too. Now don't get me wrong, I made decent (ok- good) money- but it wouldn't be long before I'd be in jail for excessively stabbing foreigners in the eye! I have better ways to spend my time! Reason #2 was that while I was in Florida (more like 30 seconds before heading to the airport to come home) my mom went to the hospital. Long story short, she's fine, she was out the next day. But, it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I immediately realized that life is short and why waste time being unhappy with things that you can do something about? There are enough uncontrollable circumstances in life: illness, natural disasters and relationships, so there's no reason to stay at a stupid job that leaves you feeling depressed and unsatisfied 90% of your time. Once again, I have better ways to spend my time!

So, the day I got back- I quit! Probably not the smartest thing because I didn't technically have another day job (I judge dance competitions on the weekends). But like a friend has always told me: 'sometimes you have to jump and hope the net will appear'. So I did. I wound up with a catering gig (not as great of money as bartending, but it has a flexible schedule, and there's sanity) and some babysitting gigs. Of course freak outs are bound to happen, even though it's only been a week since I’ve officially been done with the bar, but in time all will work out! With my free time I've been able to work out more, take some classes and choreograph a solo for a Miss New York State contestant! All good things and all are a step in the right direction!


In the meantime- Mama needs money! So if you know about any odd jobs or you would like to hire me to clean your toilets- I'm game! And if you're keeping track- get a new job was on my list of things to do this year!

Let's Play Catch Up!

I can't believe how long it has been since I last posted, especially considering it's on my mind (and To-Do List) every day! There are just never enough hours! If someone wants to buy me one of those iPads then I could post more often! It's just hard to carry my computer with me everywhere, my bag is heavy enough! (Are you listening Mr. Jobs? Hook a sista up!) Anyways, so much has gone on in the last month, hence why I've been too busy to post, and most definitely why I'm in need of psychiatric treatment!

Last time I posted I had just gotten cut at SYTYCD (again) - no bigs, totes not bitter! After that I spent the week in Disney World with my family. In case you didn't know, my famous sister (only sister) whom I often speak of works there. Works totally doesn't do it justice... she is a dancer at Hollywood Studios and dabbles in character work (but don't ask me which ones...it's a secret!). When I got back: I quit my job at the restaurant. Went into financial panic mode (cue psychiatric treatment and generous donations, ahem Mr. Jobs). I was in a cab with a crazy driver who showed me porn. Got a job catering. Freaked out about my weight (I know, this is nothing new). Went to some auditions. Got cut from some auditions. Bought some shoes. Did a mini cleanse. Cried a little. Fell in love with Parenthood. Caught up with some old friends. Made some new friends. Got pissed at old friends for not telling me what they are doing with their famous selves (Yes- You Neil). Babysat for the first time in three years. Got my ass schooled in a dance class. Wallowed in self pity. Overdosed on Reddi-Wip (don't judge me).

So all in all- your average month! A little bit of this and a lot more of that to come! Have no fear I'll break down the highlights for you! Keep on reading (that's a no brainer)!

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

"... When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad"



Ok, so no, the two things I'm about to mention are definitely NOT my favorite things! The first would be getting CUT from auditions, and the second would be dental work. Lucky me, I've had both done to me in the last two days! YAY for me (fuck my life)!


I’m immersed in travel plans right now, and stop one was to Dallas. I masked going to the So You Think You Can Dance audition with a stop home. I told a few friends that I was coming out for the audition, but everyone else assumed I was visiting my family, because if you've met my mother you know how much she thrives on her kids being in her house (or at least under the same roof!). Anyways, I got cut in NYC, and thought I could redeem myself and maybe have a better chance of standing out in Dallas. Well, things didn't really go well for me. I spent the morning jumping around in front of cameras, running up and down steps, talking to producers like I was hot shit and mentoring fresh faced 18 year olds on what to expect once getting inside. Once I got in front of the producers I did was I always do while improving for them... I forgot how to dance! I CAN dance, I AM a good dancer, yet once whatever song they choose to play is on, I freak out, and result to what... CARTWHEELS! This time it was just a half a cartwheel, but still...WHAT! Either he felt pity on me, or expected better, but he asked me to stick around to dance again.

Sticking around was the last thing I wanted! I wanted a ticket or to get cut right away!  I mean, it's great to have a second chance, but there is just so much pressure, and while I used to work well under it, now I freeze! I wanted to be on this damn show so bad, especially considering all those little girls standing around me in line got through! So needless to say, I got in the room for a second time (4th this season), and did what I always do- I got cut! I went for it, just not well enough apparently! I mean, the girls that got kept were jumping around the floor with bent knees and sickled feet and horrible port de bras... but I GOT CUT! But you know what? It's ok! I wasn’t meant to be on that show. They would be lucky to have me on that show, because I AM AN ARTIST! I am not a puppet. I am not a 12 year old whacking her leg! I am a DANCER, and I'm moving on. If no one is going to hire me, I'm going to hire myself!


Now on to the second thing I love so much! Every time I am in Dallas I spend time in the Dentist's office. It's getting old! Last time I was in town I had three cavities filled, was told I needed gum surgery and had to look at veneer implants. Today, I had my last two wisdom teeth taken out. I'm doing fine now, just a couple hours of bleeding and numbness! But seriously! COME ON! I’m over it! I'm too poor for this shit and I can't expect for my parents to pay for it! Though I blame these issues on them, I mean God love him, but my father doesn't have the prettiest teeth, and my mom gave me too much fluoride as a kid, so there's blame there too!


In a nutshell that was my trip to Dallas.  I spent day one crying over getting cut and day two eating copious amounts of ice cream due to minimal mouth function! I'm unemployed, toothless and fat!  If I keep this up maybe I can be on The Biggest Loser!

Thank You Twyla!

If you have ever read more than one of my posts you will have most likely come across my tendency to vent about my failed auditions, lack of motivation and desperation to find something other than bartending to pay my bills. Well, my game face is now on and it's all thanks to the fabulous Twyla Tharp. Not only is my blog heading inspired by one of her quotes, my new found motivation is as well.



I was so lucky to have a friend invite me to a show of Come Fly Away, the new Twyla Tharp dance musical set to the music of Frank Sinatra. It was a beautiful display of amazing dancers, but in case you are wondering... it was no Movin' Out. I won't nit-pick the show apart just yet; I'll wait till it's done with previews after which I will hope to see that some serious changes have been made!

Anyways, while I was listening to the music of one of my all time favorite artists I watched some of the most talented artists in the business glide across the Marriott Marquis stage. THAT is what I want to do! THAT is who I want to work with and who I want to work for. It's been four years since I graduated from Point Park, so I'm slightly out of shape when it comes to the world of concert dance. I've been living in NYC and have become accustomed to the 'jazz square, kick ball change' combinations you are privy to at musical calls! It's a rare occasion that you get the chance to DANCE, aside from taking class that is, and we all know that costs money!


The beauty of the movement was not in the steps themselves, it was in the maturity and ease in which the dancers carried themselves across the floor. The cast is full of veteran dancers including John Selya (whom I LOVE) and Karine Plantadit (who is crazy but fabulous). The beauty in watching them is not only in their absolute perfection, which is slightly nauseating, but in the development of each movement. Their bodies are in complete and utter control of every step, turn, jump and lean. Their muscles work like finely tuned instruments. Their package is of sheer brilliance! And I want to be them!


In the beauty of story telling and performance you have to look no further than Charlie Neshyba-Hodges and Laura Mead. They are pint size energetic powerhouses who not only are the best actors but the cutest damn onstage couple! But I must also give a shout out to Miss. Heather Hamilton. I have never met Heather before, only danced with her at a ton of auditions in the city. I recognized her face but then instantly remembered who she was from her unique and intricate tattoos (they are not that big, I jsut have a very distinct eye for details). Heather was a member of the ensemble who took my breath away. Not only was she incredibly technical and beautiful, she was captivating in her performance and inspiring to me in my 'Get It Together' plan! Not only did I think she was the most interesting to watch in the ensemble, but she was better than some of the leading women. Confident, strong and graceful only begin to describe this fabulous dancer who left me in awe!


So... Thank you Twyla for this show. Thank you for these dancers. Thank you for the music.  Thank you for your talent.  Thank you for reminding me why I am a dancer.  It's game time!

Suck Day!

This is totally against what I gave up for lent, which was to not have any negative/destructive thoughts about myself, but today- I really SUCKED. I'd rather be a sinner than a liar, let's face it, I'm not a very good catholic...but the party in Hell will be huge! Anyways, back on topic! I took a dance class that I have not been to in about a year, and I just plain sucked! Normally I would blame it on the combo (which was slightly awkward), but that does not excuse the fact that I sucked.


When I was in school and taking 3-5 dance classes a day, you couldn't pay me to miss a class. I think I skipped two in 3 years and had extreme guilt the whole time. I was at all of my classes, and often took ones I wasn't even registered for! I was on time, dressed (sometimes sloppily) and ready to go. I'm not a saint, I of course had off days, or bad mental days, but I was still there and pushed through my issues. Now, I live in NYC, a Mecca for dance and theatre and I chose to not go to a class more often than not. But to top it off, when I'm in class I have a hard time being present. I either am busy thinking about the other things I need to be doing, or I'm beating myself up for everything under the sun. And I seriously mean everything: my pale face, my chubby legs, my bruised arms, my boxy body, my poorly styled hair, my lack of focus, my bad attitude, my ugly shirt, the camel toe my shorts are giving me, my horrible balance, my ripping feet.

My sense of perfection has not changed. I always expect the best from myself, but it's at such an extreme that I've lost my ability to breathe! I get so nervous that I'm going to suck and fail that I'm having a hard time enjoying what I'm doing. I don't have a problem being challenged or stepping out of my comfort zone, but I just don't want to suck! I am aware that this feeling of struggle and inadequacy is bound to happen from time to time, so I should stop bitching, but lately I can't help but let it get to me. I feel like my life is spiraling out of control, and not in any one direction, just around in circles that will eventually get swallowed by a black hole.


When you’re 'to do' list is a mile long, where do you start? I've never been afraid of success, I thrive on it, and I live for it! I love being good at things whether it's dancing, cooking, writing or drinking- I want to to be the best! I love the sense of accomplishment and elation that you get from a job well done.


What I don't like, is failing. I've always put a huge amount of pressure on myself to do well. As much as this pressure is for me, I strive for greatness because I want those who are important to me to be proud of me. I want my dad to know his money for lessons, costumes, school and trips went to good use. I want my mom to know that her hours spent driving to competitions, rhinestoning costumes and selling flowers were all appreciated. I want my brothers to know that their support at every competition and recital was important to me, even if they spent the whole time playing football in a back hall. And most of all I'd hate to think that the hours/days/weeks that my sister and I have spent fighting about everything to do and not to do with dance, resulting on permanent scars were pointless! I want to feel like I've done something with myself and accomplished something to show my friends that I can do more than bitch and drink!


The forces of 'failure avoidance' used to lead me to dance classes every day, hours at the gym and early nights in bed. These were my ways of preparing and gearing up to a point of mental and physical wellness. Now, after a few years of 'NO's' and 'SORRY's' and 'TRY AGAIN's' I'm left at a standstill. All the hard work and time that I put in have resulted in nothing real or substantial. So now I travel down the path of least resistance. Not wanting to suck and fail have led me to a place where I don't even put myself out there. Now I surround myself with wonderful and supportive people, but I hermit myself from rejection and negativity. I swap dance classes for movies. I'd rather sit in a dark room where no one can see me sprawl my legs and down a Diet Dr. Pepper than wear skin tight clothes in bad lighting while standing next to girls who are the size of my thigh. I swap hours at the gym for hours at work. At least at the end of a day at work I can feel some sort of accomplishment with the money I have in my hands as opposed to those 1000 sit-ups I could be doing that haven’t made a bit of difference to my mid-section. And if you didn't already guess it, I swap those early bedtimes with DVR and bottles of wine.


These things I have control over: the movies, the working, the wine. I can't control anything else, or at least it doesn't seem like it! I finally can understand why people get fat: they can't tap into feelings of control or accomplishment with anything other than food! I’m not at this place just yet, thankfully my diet is better now than ever- but mama still loves her chocolate and Tasti-D!


So what's one to do? How do I get myself out of this rut? How do I make myself better and more useful for my benefit and those around me?  Where do I start? What should be the first thing on my list to cross off?


How about: Don't Suck Today? (Maybe tomorrow!)

Snow in the City

I don't need Web MD to diagnose myself; it's pretty clear what I have: Seasonal Depression! I don't know why it comes as a surprise, because I go through it every year and obviously at the same time! The fabulous NYC has seen close to 18 inches of snow in the last few days which means blocked cars, lakes at every street corner and even more reason to want to stay inside until spring. It's freaking February, I'm so over being cold and kept up inside, yet it is always the same!

November: This is when it all starts. This is when it gets cold outside, the jackets come out of the closet and the sniffles start. Before you know it there are a couple of extra pounds around your hips from the treats and bebidas that you have started to nosh on, but you decide to brush it off and be semi-optimistic about all the fun that's ahead of you!

December: It hits like a ton of bricks. You are working hard, adding extra hours to your schedule to pay for all the gifts you plan on giving and all playing you plan on doing! A few more treats, a few more drinks, you buy a few more pairs of leggings (because those jeans are now a little too snug) and you are embracing the season of fun, friends and family. Though the bank account starts to fizzle away, there's that reminder of the Baby Jesus (if you are a better Christian than I) and the materialistic fact that you might end the month with a few cute things!


January: The New Year has most likely been started hung-over. As uncomfortably and shitty you feel you may have been lucky enough to have dropped a few pounds from the projectile vomiting that happened the night before. This new month means a new year with new resolutions, goals and plans. But it's still cold, and you still have no money, and you are tired, and you are getting sick (your liver's little game of revenge). All the color that you might have had is now GONE, the cellulite you fought hard against over the summer is more prominent. Oh, and don't forget about those goals and plans that you made all of three days ago...it's funny how quickly they turned into overwhelming and frustrating reminders of your lack of motivation and depleted funds! Every movie has suddenly turned into a depressing analogy of your life, every dismal moment is somehow an example of your lack of a future and every bill from the gym is a reminder that you are a big fat failure. Excuses flow out of you like water at Niagara Falls and those bottles of wine you had left over from your holiday parties are now empty!


Every year it's like clockwork. It starts off slow and with warning and it leaves slow and with all your money and positivity. I wouldn't consider moving back to Miami for any reason other than avoiding this horrible feeling that takes control of your mind and body for 4 months time. I'm an NYC girl, where else could you find a man cross country skiing down Broadway and women wearing I Love NY ponchos over their quarter of a million dollar furs! So I propose we move the island of Manhattan to the Caribbean! Who's with me? Just think how nice this city would look with year round sandals! Put a beach in Central Park and I'm good to go!

Light for Haiti!

I apologize for being M.I.A. as of recent, but this girl has been busy! I want to share with you the project that I have been working on and how proud I am of it. One of my favorite people, the amazingly wonderful, talented and giving Terra Mackintosh is one of the producers for an NYC artists based benefit for Haiti. It's been over a month since the earthquake, but the people are still in need; the road to recovery is never easy.  The proceeds of this event will go towards the GHESKIO MEDICAL CENTER in Port Au Prince.



February 28th at the Canal Room will be the night that emerging and established artists of NYC come together to light up the concrete jungle with messages of hope and faith for the people of Haiti. The evening will be hosted by David Alan Grier and Richard Thomas from Broadway's RACE, and will be filled with performers big and small who wish they had the means to donate money to the cause, but since we are poor, we are donating our talent instead!  Additional performances will be by Michael Lanning (song), Eddie Brill (comedy), Scott Allan (music), Chris Critelli (poetry), BlackGold (dance) and many more including the choreography of Ashley Becker (yep, that's me!).


I have had the pleasure of choreographing a piece to 'Bloodline' by Matt Morris. You may not know who he is, but you should. He is a phenomenal talent who sang along side Justin Timberlake for the Hope for Haiti Broadcast. My piece features former Point Park University Dance Alumni including Julia Richter, Ashley Peter, Sheena DiMatteo and Steph Mos.  It has been a pleasure to work with dedicated, giving and talented performers for such an important cause.


To make it short and to the point: this is going to be a wonderful night full of talent and entertainment. The beauty of the evening is not in the vanity of performing, but in the unity of NYC artists big and small and their sense of obligation as artists and human beings to do what’s right. We all know what it's like to be knocked down, well now is our time to put our strength, hope, faith and love together to help out our fellow man!


Get tickets for $40 before the show ($50 at door) go to http://www.canalroom.com/

Check out talent, crew, production team and information on how to donate at http://www.lightforhaiti.net/

Who doesn't like publicity?
Broadway World Article
Playbill.com
Theatre Mania Online

Try Again!

You might have forgotten due to my lack of entries on this subject, but I am still a dancer in NYC, who wants nothing more than to be a happy successful performer. That's why I bitch so much about my job it's not what I want to be doing! The last audition I went on was in November, until about a week ago when I attended the ever famous So You Think You Can Dance auditions. Well, I survived, which is not the same as actually having gotten through as far as I would have liked.



Originally I would have bitched about how I was wronged, but now that some time has passed, getting cut has made me even more determined to find the right kind of success for me. SYTYCD is not for every dancer. It's become a cookie cutter outlet for young, talented and immature competition dancers. Yes, that sounds like a lot of distain and judgment, but it comes from a place of admiration. The show offers the opportunity to work with some of the biggest and brightest in the industry, yet all that the show seems to want are 18 year old competition tricksters. I am not 18, and I am definitely not a trickster.  I think I have solid technique and a mature style of movement, but for whatever reason it's not the fit for the show.

Getting cut from something like this can make you feel a whole slew of emotions; envy, jealousy, frustration, guilt and the overwhelming feeling of failure. Everyone wants to be the success story, the rags to riches tale, the person who grows and changes in a few short weeks with the help of their idols. Obviously only 20 people get to this point, and I never thought it realistic that I would be one of those few, I just hoped that I would be given a fair chance to show my talent, skills and passion. Instead I was given the Elton John classic "Can You Feel the Love Tonight" and "All by Myself" to improv to. Needless to say, my quirky classical inspired contemporary choreography did not shine through when all I could see was Simba running through my head (the song was from The Lion King), and lyrics coming across a karaoke screen (This Bridget Jones' Diary song is one of my favorite songs to sing, not dance to).

I’ve studied and trained for years to be the dancer I am, and then sat outside at 5:30 am, in January, in NYC, in the rain to be given two horrible songs to showcase my style and technique to. I was just slightly pissed! But at the end of the day, as great of an opportunity as it would have been, it was an audition. I’ve been cut before, and I will be cut again; it's the nature of the business. The true test is do you let it get you down, or do you 'dust yourself off and try again?'

(I won't lie, I drank, then ate, then cried before I came to the point of 'trying again' but at least I decided to get back on the horse instead of letting the assholes get me down!)

I'd Rather Be Single

If you are single and live in NYC you understand the difficulties of dating. One would think that with the millions of men living on this island dating (and sex for that matter) would be available in mass quantities for mildly pretty girls with good personalities. I can attest that it is never simple, and even when you find someone that seems like a potential date or even a fling, there is always a catch! If it wasn't bad enough, I heard the following story, which I warn you now to not read if you have a queasy stomach. So now my list of questions has grown, and so has my Creepo-Radar!




A friend of my co-worker lived in Texas and was out for a bachelorette party doing the whole sloppy bar hopping thing when she met this incredibly attractive guy. He was tall, blonde hair, light blue eyes, amazing build and an adorable smile. They spent a good part of the night making out, and all she wanted to do was go home with him! Each time the girls were leaving to go to another bar he offered to take her back to his place. As much as she wanted to she thought it would be best if she hung out with the party for a little longer. At the end of the night, he said he was ready to go home and asked her to join him. She was just about to get in his car when the bride-to-be came up to her and begged her to not ditch them (like she had the tendency of doing) and join the party back at her place to finish up girls night. Not wanting to disappoint her friend she went home with the girls but made sure to exchange numbers with the hot hot man.


The next morning she woke up with a horrible itch and rash all around her mouth and neck. She rushed to the emergency room asking for an antibiotic and was quickly met by government medical officials. After having done testing on the irritation they had asked her about what types of things she had been in contact with because she had bacteria on her face that was common in deceased persons. The only thing she could come up with was the guy she met the night before. Officials contacted him and when they showed up to his home found... wait for it, get your nausea in check... 12 dead bodies. He had been eating, cooking and having sex with these bodies. He informed the gentlemen that the victims had all been women he picked up in bars, and if she had gone home with him the night before she would have been next!


No, this was not an episode of Dexter, this actually happened to someone. No the details have not become foggy, this is the story. If dating wasn't bad enough before, this will have you thinking twice before running off with the hottie at the bar. So now my list of upfront questioning is as follows:


* Are you single?
* Are you gay?
* Are you divorced?
* Do you have children?
* Do you have a job?
* Do you live with your mother?
* How many people have you slept with?
* Have any of those people been dead at the time?
* If so, did you kill them?
* If you do like to kill your dates, do you plan on eating me too?


What is this world coming to? On that note...I need a date for February... Hot Psychos Need Not Apply!

Thank You!

I thought that I could start this entry with wit and charm- but sometimes it's just best to rip the band-aid off!


While I was at jury duty last week, for two straight days I was searching the web for things to keep me occupied. I tried to access my blog site through my shortcut but it was blocked. Using those problem solving skills I developed in the second grade I was able to access the site through a Google search! When searching ''hopelessly passionate'' my blog was the first thing to pop up and below it was a link that someone had posted on facebook. This 'fan', if you will, had posted a link to my blog and encouraged his friends to read if they wanted to laugh, cry and just be entertained. I was flattered! Then I found comments to this posting where some girl called me “bitter, bitchy and pessimistic”. Well I never said I wasn't! And though I can be two out of those three (you can decide which), this chick doesn't know me so who is she to make such judgments?

I would just like to point out that while I tend to take the bitter and bitchy tone in my blog, it is all in good fun, good humor and good entertainment. Also, I pretended for far to long that life as all "peachy keen, fine and dandy” and truth is, it isn’t; so I write a blog about the shit that happens to me, the things I hate and the people that irritate me. Writing for me has turned into a form of therapy as well as a pastime, but I do it with hopes that whoever is reading this can find something to relate to, it’s in hopes that no one ever has to feel alone! New York City is a huge and scary place to live, and though you are surrounded by millions the loneliness can be daunting. I've lived the loneliness, I've lived the frustration- but I've learned that I'm not alone in my feelings. We can all get through the hard times when we know that there's safety in numbers! So thank you for reading and I hope you continue to come back for what I have to say, but if you find me bitchy, bitter and pessimistic and not at all entertaining ... feel free to move on, 'cuz I ain't stoppin'!

I'm Sorry!

I'm sorry. I apologize for neglecting you! I know you were concerned.  But no worries!  There was no fight, no hard feelings, just a very busy couple of weeks! So to make it up to you I bring you: STORY TIME! Here's a few of my favorites from the last few weeks! Always fun, always entertaining!



STORY ONE: Cancer Guy

I know... I'm going to hell. But this is the best way to reference the gentleman I had a conversation with at work the other night. A gentleman came to the bar with his wife, ordered a few beers, and went back into the ibis of the crowd. A little while later he came to the bar by himself and ordered two more beers. Without being prompted he went into a story about how he was so excited about being out having a few beers because he has cancer. The story goes as follows: "This is the first time in 2.5 months that I have felt any sort of relief. You'll know when you have cancer (hey- don't give me cancer), that you just feel this incredible weight on your shoulders while you try to determine your best course of action. Between meeting with different doctors and hearing different treatment processes I have been so stressed and unable to enjoy life, which is even worse when you consider my current prognosis. When you get cancer you'll know first hand about all these ups and downs you go through, it's mental warfare (once again- don't put cancer on me!). But today I came in from Long Island and met with the best doctor in the field of cancer that I have and I'm so excited now about the plan of treatment and the outlook for the future. This is the best day I've had in 2.5 months, and this beer is just helping so much. I feel like one beer is just hitting me a little bit harder than usual but it's probably because I don't feel all this stress and pressure. But you'll know all about that (Will I? WILL I?)."


Though I didn't like the pressure the gentleman was putting on me, I did have a sensitive moment where I was very moved by his story, and his telling me of the story. Though my initial jaded New Yorker reaction was- spare me the lies.  But I believe he was just moved to tell me his story and I was moved to give him the beers for free. I can be a bitch, but this bitch didn't feel right charging him after the intense 5 minutes of story telling he shared with me. He was grateful and took the beers to meet his wife. A few minutes later his wife came back to the bar to thank me for being so kind to her husband, and as she started to cry because of my sweet gesture she handed me a few dollars and went back to her table where her husband was waiting. Fast forward an hour, this same woman is storming out of the bar because she can't believe her husband was "flirting" with the TRASHY bartender. UMM? I'm slightly confused; you thank me, and then call me trashy? AWESOME!



STORY TWO: Computer Parts

I wish that this was my story, so much so that I might start passing it off as mine, but for now I can't take the credit. BUT, I swear this is a true story as told to me by a co-worker. His friend is the assistant to a magazine editor who was going out of town with her family for a week. Her boss asked her to watch their dog, a St Bernard, while they were gone. I should now mention that this assistant is pint size, think 5 foot 95 pounds, nothing but bones. So, she shows up to the house in Brooklyn to find that the dog is dead. This of course is incredibly unfortunate and if it had been me would have been slightly nauseating. She calls her boss to inform her of the loss of their pet and is given instructions to take the dog to the vet, who will hold on to him until they are able to come home and have a memorial. It's a little after midnight at this point and this poor girl needs to find a way to get this big dog to the vet’s office. She finds a suitcase, puts the dog inside it, and then proceeds to the subway. Why she didn't get a cab, I don't know?! After clunking down the steps and riding a few stops, she gets off to see the tallest flight of stairs imaginable. After schlepping the suitcase up a few steps (thump, thump, thump) a gentleman comes up behind her and offers to help her with it the rest of the way. Once they get to the top he asks her what could possibly be inside?  Because it was very heavy. She wasn't about to tell him that it was her boss's dead dog, so she said that it was computer parts from her office that she was moving to her apartment! He nods, then punches her square in the face, and runs down the street with the suitcase. That's the punch line! What else could possibly be said after that?  She's left standing at this stop in Brooklyn at 2am with a bloody nose and has to call her boss to inform her that her dog won't be making it to the memorial service, oh, and she no longer has a piece of pricey luggage!



STORY TWO FOLLOW-UP: My mom's spin on the story

I told the above story to my mom and she fell on the floor laughing! So in typical mom fashion, she shared this story with everyone she knows. And, people she doesn't know! My mother can't ever get through a joke or a funny story with a straight face, but apparently she can't read her audience either to know if said joke/story is appropriate and will be well received. The moral of this story: don't share a story about a dead dog in a suitcase with someone you have never met who walks into your place of business and asks you to hold their dog! In these situations it's very likely the dog is like a child to said person, which would be the equivalent to putting me in a suitcase and sharing the story with my mother- pretty sure this person isn't going to find it funny. And I'm pretty sure this person is going to start crying (and he did).

The Movie of My Life

If you've had the pleasure of spending any time with me you would know that I can quite often be found bitching about my relationship status and my job. For this blog we will be focusing on the relationship part. In case you are a little out of the loop, I'm single, as always. I'm always single! I've tried dating, but I'm a little picky/ not good at picking guys that are into me. Classic He's Just Not That Into You. You would think that I wrote that book, I didn't but it's seriously so true! All of it. So anyways, I tend to rip apart the genre of movies called... romantic comedies.

I am a big fan of the chick flick. As cynical and jaded as I am, there is a part of me that is a die hard romantic and a believer in true love, but sometimes, enough is enough! I'm over the "hate each other until the very end, then profess our love for each other, but one of us is still in a relationship so it's sticky, finally come to our senses, drive off into the sunset happy endings" movies. Please show me who that happens to... in REAL life.

In the movie made of my life, the first 24 years can be summed up in a montage of bad dates and me sitting on my couch eating Ben and Jerry's with my parade of roommates. I get so mad that I love these movies that end with 'The End'. Really? Is that really how it ends? I don't believe it! At least not for me! The romantic, crazy and spontaneous things that happen in movies just don't exist in my life. That was until today...



...I was at work bartending and this good looking guy about 5'11'' with blonde hair and a suit came into the bar and wanted to ask me a question. He started off with, "this is going to be the craziest thing you've ever been asked, so please don't get mad." (This is when we cue me thinking, "I've heard that before. What do you want? Change for a twenty?  No! A beer!") He explained that he and his girlfriend just broke up on Saturday (Cue my excitement, like I said...cute), and they were planning on going to the Bahamas on Wednesday. He then proceeded to ask if I knew anyone that would want to go with him.  Mind you this is to the Bahamas, on Wednesday, until Monday, all expenses paid. (Cue me jumping up and down with my hand raised.  In my head that is).

As much fun as this sounded, it wasn't practical for a few reasons. One- when he asked me this, I had to then ask him what his name was. Two- I know I'm lacking spontaneity, but that's a lot to plan for in 2 days. And three- I didn't really want to know the whole plane ride that I was going to die in the Bahamas by some crazy stranger I ran away with. This whole situation could have been so cool, I mean this is what most movies are made of, but who in their right mind is actually going to go through with something like this?





You've gotta give the guy props though for trying. He was either telling the truth by trying to have fun with his sucky pre-paid couple’s vacation dilemma, or was a creeper in a good looking suit with cute eyes! Once again I will say that this could have turned out to be the best thing to ever happen to me if I had taken him up on his offer (that he was making to every bartender on the block, but that's not the point), but why risk death to find out? I know, I'm dramatic. But come on... what would you have done? I guess I'm going to have to keep reading scripts until a better one comes along, because right now, the script for the "love" portion of my life sucks!

You Can Call Me....Svetlana!

There's nothing like a bunch of 12 year olds in leotards and a stomach full of Tasti-D-Lite to make you feel old and fat! This was all before my adult gymnastics class at Chelsea Piers even started. It was then about fifteen minutes into the class when I contemplated throwing up on the trampoline, therefore regretting my stupid idea to 'step out of my comfort zone.' There is a reason why it's called a comfort zone...it feels good to be inside it...everything else is a little scary!


For those of you just tuning into my life, here is a little back story. When I was three years old, my mom enrolled my in gymnastics classes. I then proceeded to make myself so nervous that I puked on the trampoline and was carried out by the teacher where she told my mother not to bring me back! Apparently they didn't have the time to deal with my potential issues on their equipment. Fast forward 20 years and you have the gymnastics drop out (ME), who is mildly retarded when it comes to anything acrobatic (ME), and who decides it would be a good idea to take an adult gymnastics class as part of her New Years Resolution (Yep, Me)! Thanks to Jenny and the staff at Chelsea Piers, I was able to test my skills on the floor and had an amazing time. I'm pretty sure that even my earlobes will be sore tomorrow, but it was so much fun and well worth the pain. We dancers/gymnasts/athletes are masochists in the way that we feel a sense of accomplishment when we are too sore to walk! 


I have to give all those little 12 year olds I mentioned earlier a serious amount of credit...this shit is hard! I was NOT made for this kind of physical activity.  I watched my instructors demonstrate the moves with such ease that I went "duh; of course I'll be able to do it with as much grace"! Yeah right! There's something so different from being a gymnast and being a dancer, and that's the element of the size up. Ask a dancer to look around the room at an audition and they will be able to size up the competition in 30 seconds. Well, I of course did this before we started our adult class.  Even while we were starting our warm-up I made the assumption that I would be kicking some major ass in this class (not that there was a prize, but I like to win even if it's just in my head- HI, I’m slightly competitive). It was once the instructor went from dive rolls to round-off, back handspring, back tuck, and was serious, that I new I was once again the gymnastically re-tard and not in the beginners class!  Apparently, intermediate does not mean that you can do a cartwheel in both directions, it means you can tumble.  This is something I should have thought more about before signing up for this class!


The class did leave me with a couple of highs. I walked on my hands, did a couple successful front handsprings, I got a bit closer to an unassisted aerial (this is on my bucket list, so I'm working hard) and I did a back handspring (with some help) ... and didn't kill anyone! I also received two of the best compliments a dancer can get: "you are tall, use those legs" (at 5'5'' I've never been tall, but in gymnast world I'm a giant), and "your back is so flexible" (too bad I can't get my arabesque up any higher). One would think that these two things would be helpful to a gymnast, but as I learned, not so much. They don't make champions out of Shawn Johnson for nothing!



I'm very proud of not only my successful class, I determine success in this instance by the fact I didn't die, cry or throw-up, but the fact that I get to cross something off my list! Next to tackle: a date this week...bum bum buuuuuuuuuum!

To prove I actually did this, here's a picture with Joe and my tall drink of water (when you can't remember their name it's best to compliment).
Check out the Chelsea Piers Field House Website for class descriptions, rates and times! Adult Gymnastics