When do people outgrow preteen crushes??

I live in New York. I'm an actress in New York. I live with other actors and actresses in New York. I have seen big names in the subway, local bars, and passed them in crosswalks. I do NOT get "star-struck." They are just people. Very successful and talented people. But still, just people.


Today Jenny and I met up by Grand Central Station and decided to walk above ground back to the Port Authority Bus Station to get home. So there I am loudly recounting an audition I had in the afternoon when suddenly she leans towards me and says "you are going to shit your pants, but Ryan Gosling is standing to your left." Now... I have had a celebrity crush on Mr. Gosling ever since he played the goofball on the short lived TV Series Breaker High. I have been highly impressed with his recent work- especially Lars and the Real Girl. And I'm sure if we had access to the Disney Channel growing up (thanks mom....) my crush would have started with his role as a Mousekateer. This person that I have adored from afar since Jr. High was standing right next to me at a cross walk having a serious conversation with a man who had beautiful silver gray hair. This is the time to be cool......













Did I walk coyly up to the corner where he was standing and 'accidently' bump him? Turn to apologize and make full eye contact? Introduce myself and tell him I think he's handsome and talented? Walk away calmly? Did I pull out any friendly, nonchalant technique that I have used to communicate with attractive guys in the past?


.............



NO! NO I DID NOT! They crossed the street and I grabbed Jenny's jacket and dragged her across the street in their direction. We walked quickly past them talking animatedly with our hands, giggling like schoolgirls, sneaking quick glances back to see if we could make eye contact. When we finally lost them, Jenny and I got on our classy bus (the kind with duct-taped seats) and chatted all the way home about how, if he knew us, he would fall in love. And how, when we make a movie with him we're going to talk to him as equals. But mostly we chatted about how crazy we had acted and how often he must get that kind of response from 20-something year old women.



















We tried to be cool and failed 100%. I think I'm ready to watch the Notebook and bawl my eyes out.

~B

Here a visit, there a visit.

Why is it that when someone comes into town, your town, the town you feel pumped and ready to show off in it's glistening wonder, that something MUST go wrong. My Denver Parents (I have two complete sets of parents for those who don't know) came for a visit this past weekend. As Briann and I have suddenly dropped into the poverty category, we have really been looking forward to this trip. We would have verbal day dreams of the food, entertainment, and general good times to be had by all. 

And then it happened.

The weekend my parents were in town, the good Lord decided to dump about half of the worlds fresh water supply on our fair city of New Yorksey. The rain was torrential, and there went our dreams. A quaint walk through Soho where we happen upon an adorable cafe serving the most delicious cream filled pastries? NO! A jaunt through Little Italy, the wind in our hair ready to seek out the best sausage sauce we could find? NO. NO, NO, NO! Instead we were rushing from subway stations to cabs, trying to keep our $3.50 umbrellas intact...well, they were. My umbrella went missing - as if it couldn't get any better. 

Even while darting around the tidal waves that I guess could be called "puddles," at least there was still food. And my oh my was it delicious. We spent the first night eating in Little Italy. In order to find the best restaurant in the area, my Dad took an approach that almost none would dare. He decided that the best person to ask would be a Maitre' D in the area. He says to the man, "So what is really the best restaurant in the area?" doing that lean in, squinty eyed thing that the men do in mobster movies. The man answers that his restaurant is quite good to which my Dad responds, "No, no - I'm sure yours is great, but what's really the best? Were looking for something authentic..." Uh, am I missing something here? Isn't it that man's job to sell us on his restaurant? And when did I jump into an episode of the Sopranos? 

Well, turns out Dad knows what he's doing and we are referred to Angelo's where we proceeded to eat through their stock of bread for the evening and when we ask what the best deserts are, the waiter scoops up our menus and through his thick accent tells us, "Da Berry Tart-ah, and da lemon tart-ah" giving us a swift karate chop hand motion as if to say, "No more questions or you'll get whacked."

I love Little Italy (smile...shudder).

The next night we are theatre patrons extraordinaire! We made our dinner reservations at celebrity chef Bobby Flay's restaurant Mesa Grill. All I can say is de-li-cious. Delicious and thank god we aren't vegetarian anymore, ha! After eating some perfect animal carcasses and the best potatoes I've ever met we were off to see "Young Frankenstein: The Musical." 

I have not yet mentioned that my Dad and I love Mel Brooks and really love "Young Frankenstein" the movie. If you haven't seen it, stop reading right this second and go purchase both "Young Frankenstein" and "Blazing Saddles." You can thank me later.

Especially for fans the show was hilarious. When they started to do "Puttin' On the Ritz" I literally thought my Dad might have a heart attack. They had to hold for applause for nearly two full minutes after the number started.

Then we went out for dessert...again. I wont lie to you, Briann and I may have gained about 5 pounds each while the parents were here. I guess the double dessert was a little indulgent, but just a little.

The next day we decided to drive into the city and by we I mean ME. I was the only one doing the driving and I didn't even hyperventilate. I did, however, almost cost us our lives about 13  times. I will never understand why cab drivers don't follow any rules of the road. Even a simple turn signal would help. We were in search of the Pickle Guys. You see, my father has an unnatural love of all things pickle. I have seen the man drink glasses of pickle juice like they were water and eat upwards of seven pickles in one sitting. Well, we have found the pickle mecca in the Pickle Guys. You walk in to find about 25 barrels of different kinds of pickles, olives, and veggies. The men are yelling like you're in a fish market and asking you to make decisions about what you want when you have no idea exactly what they have. We definitely walked out of there with some pickles, just don't ask me what kind they were. 

Rain, weight gain, road rage, and Broadway. All things considered, I'd say this was a great trip and one that Briann and I probably needed more than they did.

I'll leave you with the best line of the trip:

As we were eating at Angelo's everyone was sharing bits of their food so that we could try everything. About 10 minutes into the main course(and that's being generous), as most of us are just starting to make a dent in our plates, Briann looks up and says,

"I'm embarrassed to say this but...last call on the manicotti."

 -J

Sometimes you can't say "I meant to do that"

Last night Jenny wasn't feeling well and I was home late so we both decided we wanted pasta- an "easy" dish.... riiiiiiight.


I make the pasta and defrost the meat (for bolognese sauce) and I season and brown the meat and throw in some mushrooms just for kicks. Now I'm ready for the red sauce. Take the jar out of the refrigerater and can't open it.... I call in the reinforcements. Jenny can't open it either. So she decides we need to put it in the microwave for about 20 sec. Then we try again. Still no dice. The meat is cooling on the stove, the pasta is sitting in the strainer. The pressure is on.
WE NEED TO OPEN THIS JAR!

I learned a trick from all those years living with my parents who (let's face it) never made anything from scratch. I take a knife and start rapping it against the edge of the cap while holding it upside down. It always worked back at home.

What was it we learned in 5th grade science class about glass and hot and cold?? Contraction/Expansion? I forget.....



EXHIBIT A: The Jar
EXHIBIT B: My Pants & Shoes




EXHIBIT C: ............There are no words.................




And so, your honor, we ended up with a cream sauce that was delicious, but decidedly un-red...

~B

Heigh Ho, Heigh Ho....

Congratulations to me! I am now officially employed in New York City as a PT Office Assistant and also as a Caterer!

Today I finished my first day (well, half day) of work for an awesome IT consulting company in midtown Manhattan. Let me sum up my hard days work:

Morning- Meet everyone who is in the office today, take a tour of our floor with my office "buddy" Peter who shows me the new Wii, the kitchen area, and the ongoing nerf dart game. My boss comes up to bring me the "welcome wagon"- a bright little 'Radio Flyer' type wagon loaded up with random things from around the office; 409, Paperclips, Pencils, an extension chord, and little business man action figures. He proceeds to pick up a little plastic gun, load it with one of the figures, and say "when you're really pissed at your boss, just load the gun and pull this trigger," so of course I did and the little man went flying across the room! I look at him in a little state of shock and say "well why don't I just throw you?? Why harm the innocent little men?"

Lunch- The office takes me out to an all you can eat sushi restaurant where I proceed to embarrass myself by going for 2 full plates of food and finishing the ENTIRE thing.

Afternoon- I place a Staples supply order and fight with my archaic phone for a while. Then I joke with my boss and the HR woman who hired me for a jaunt and head home at the ripe old time of 2:30.

This is a tough life....

~B