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

Good vs. Evil

Between the two of us, Jenny and I have seen a lot of crazy things in this city we call "the Big Apple" (sidenote: I always thought that nickname was pretty weird....). Not very many things can compare to the absurdity that we encountered last night.

Let me backtrack:
Because J and I have both been blessed with the ability to make friends easily we tend to meet a few new people every audition to add to our social circle. So, J made plans for us to meet up with her friend K who she met at the Hairspray call about a month ago and K's friend. We let the other ladies choose the dinner location since we don't know any restaurants yet and they have been living here a while longer. K suggests a place called Jekyll and Hyde Restaurant in the theater district. Now, J and I share the distaste of cheesy "theatrical" amusement shows and low brow dinner entertainment so we heartily discouraged the decision to go to this restaurant. We threw out several different options for good (and inexpensive) places for dinner. K insisted that we go to Jekyll and Hyde. Alright then....

We step through a pair of doors guarded by a few scarecrows and a security guard dressed to fit the general decor of the door. He "allows" us to pass and we meet a friendly man with a feather duster haphazardly placed in the collar of his suit, sticking out and looking a bit like an exploding neck goiter. We wait in a little entryway that looks a bit like the elevator in the Disneyland Haunted Mansion, only smaller, where J proceeds to distinctively outfunny the man who recieved his equity card for working in the restaurant. *This enforces the fact that having your equity card does not necessarily mean you are good- wait for more examples.

We finally "earn the right to pass" when J tells *feather-duster-goiter-man that she will have to pee on his lovely shoes if he does not let us in. So we step into a magical restaurant that looks about 3 notches above a Chucky Cheese restaurant. There are children in almost every booth except ours (and we all know how much J loves the kiddies!) and the fixtures on the wall talk to the people eating. The coolest (and sometimes worst) thing about this restaurant is that the actors who work there control the voices of the various moving statues and wall decorations and they improv lines constantly throughout the night.

The food was very good (and ended up being very expensive). Our waitress was cheerful and fun-- not an actress, surprisingly. And during the course of the night we heard a *gargoil make jokes about the Wii and ridicule some 10 year old boys and sing Kumbaya (that was hilarious actually), spoke with a wandering *gypsy who jingled when she walked, were publicly hit on by *feather-duster-goiter-man, endured an *evil scientist's boogy oogie dance, and finally, a *waiter started dancing/humping J's and K friend's chairs. ooo....... Evil.

Then we went to Starbucks and bought a cookie. mmmm...... Good.

~B

Ohio, Denver, and all that lies in between...so, like, Missouri?

I'm not dead! The children did not, in fact, kill me and I can officially say that I have survived my first "tour." There is much to tell you, so I'll break it down by giving you lists of things I learned.

Ohio and the Tour

1. I love living out of a suitcase.

2. Children's tours = a group of 20 somethings set free with daily money and nothing to do.

3. Pregnant men live in the Wal-Mart in Ohio.

4. I hate the Wal-Mart in Ohio.

5. 23 years of watching my Mom (the greatest teacher in the known world) do her thing was not lost on me. I can quiet a group of 40 students in seconds-yay!

6. Zip-Zap-Zop is not a good game for 40 students - yikes.

7. Beer Pong is a funny game. To think I got through 4 years at CU ( at that time America's #1 party school) to play it my first time in the Hampton Inn in Newark, OH is...hilarious...and embarassing...and hilarious.

8. You Tube is the greatest. Sit down with a group of friends and let everyone show their favorite video. This was what we did every night and it was wonderful. Highlights: Muffins and a video called the "Puppet Master" in which Elijah Wood teaches children to do his favorite dance...stick with it, it grows on you.

Denver and the Wedding

1. I am officially old. Someone I met in the dorms is now married.

2. Coloradans walk slow. I found myself shouting, "Walk left, stand right" on those moving walkways at the airport.

3. Indoor Skydiving is hilarious. They make you float and spin around in the air while wearing a pretty pink outfit.

4. Sitting in a different room than the bride and groom at the reception is weird, especially when they are pretty much the only people you know.

5. I love Denver, but I don't actually miss it, just the people there.

6. The fact that my parents are moving to Hawaii does not make me sad. It was really, REALLY cold in Denver
it really, REALLY cold in NY...a girl's got to catch a break somewhere!

I'm the one on the far right...in the pink.

Airports in General

1. Walk left, stand right. Seriously.

2. Nobody cares about how awesome the black diamond skiing was at 12:55 am...we just want to get on the damn plane so stop trying to talk to us.

3. Never, ever, ever wear a pink jacket with mismatched pink socks and shoes while talking on your pink cell phone...everyone will hate you.

4. Never, ever, ever wear one of those crunchy synthetic jackets on the plane that makes all that noise every time you move...I will hate you.

5. Delay's suck.

6. Getting bumped up to first class due to your delay is awesome.

7. There is absolutely no way to be comfortable in an airplane seat, first class or not.

8. My life is awesome. After hearing the woman on the pink phone (you remember her from above) talk (with her one tooth) about familial conspiracies to kill her, I thought, "My life does not suck. Not even one bit. Even when it sucks, it's not that bad."

Unfortunately folks, I have to end this one on a bit of a sad note, but one we've all had to deal with.

I just want to take a moment to say goodbye to a little dude who was my best friend for nearly 20 years. Thanks for everything, buddy. After years of barbies, getting dressed up in baby clothes, hundreds of songs sung to you whether you wanted them or not, thousands of tears, millions of laughs, and a lifetime lived together, it's time to say goodbye. I love you and I'll miss you. Bye-bye, Mr. Norman.

-J

Who needs knees??

I went to my first official dance call for the Hairspray Nat'l Tour this week and felt like the only one who did not already know the entire combination. Apparently, they re-use the same dance combo (as seen in the Broadway production) every audition, so they don't see the need to actually "teach" the combination.... So I didn't get a callback, but I will be the expert next time around.

Then a couple days ago I went to a dance call for The Producers. Do not continue reading if you have a weak stomach or a low threshold for pain...

Still sore from a leaps and turns class I took the previous day (in a class of 4 people guess who was standing right next to me..... S!! You can guess how awesome the rest of the class was for me), my flexibility was not at all what it should have been and these girls have clearly been dancing since they were able to walk. The choreographer flashed through the dance combo because she wanted to see if we could pick it up quickly. It was all good until they split us up into our small groups and covered the mirror.

It seemed like the combination immediately escaped from my head. I kicked when I should have turned. I shuffled when I should have kicked. I was a mess, and all I could do was paste a big huge smile on my face and show them what a trooper I am! We were near the end of the combination and went down into the splits... not ordinarily a problem for me on my right side. About half-way down I hear a huge crack-pop sound and feel a very sharp sensation in my left knee. Needless to say I sat out the rest of the dance call and did not get a callback. I've missed about 7 auditions in the past 2 days because of my sad bum knee- mostly because I don't really want to hobble around New York City alone.

Lesson Learned: Avoid dance calls. I am now officially catagorized as an actor, singer, dancer. C’est la vie!!

~B