Friday Mash-up Post

Hey friends!

How are you going? Please excuse my lack of bloggery--trust me, it hurts me more than it hurts you. I'm all out of whack and speaking in Aussie slang because I have two gals from Sydneytown staying with me. It's kinda surreal to come home and find two people I haven't seen in more than 2 years getting dolled up in my bathroom. Although guests are stressful, these are two women I adore. One is the daughter of my Aussie mum, and her roommate, Prue, is my ex-wife. (We were facebook-married for quite a time, but being a real-life lesbian, Prue found our status to be a real clit-block.) Our love, however, never waned.

A shared love of Pink (the singer, not the Victoria's Secret clothing line), vodka-cokes, and karaoke led to many a long night on their balcony.

It was she who lent me the first book in the Twilight series. I am forever in her debt.

I'm so happy they're here, but you guys know how I need time to openly sob and eat ice cream in my underwear at the end of a long day. Having visitors means I'm in 24/7 stress-mode. I came home to find that they'd used the countertop sponge to wash the dishes and I had to say a serenity prayer. I had a dream last night that they didn't know how to turn off the stove and left the gas on and we almost died.

****THIS JUST IN: I GOT CALLED BACK FOR THE MICROSOFT COMMERCIAL!!!****

Did I mention that I'd auditioned for this last week? Well, anyway, yeah. I left feeling awkward and was supposed to have been notified by 9/12, but when I didn't hear back, I forgot about it. You can imagine my joy when Martin (my new favorite gay) called me up and told me that I'm going in on Tuesday!

*****BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG POST****

I think I'm just really nervous about the showcase tonight cause my mom is coming. But I've been working on a new opener based on my African ancestry that's been getting some good responses. (I'm hoping the 30 Rock rep casts me as Toofer's sister who thinks he's as much of a blowhard as everyone else.)

I think I'm also being cray cray because I haven't had private time with Jewboo in over a week! Guys, I'm straight-up longing, 19th-century style. It's gotten to the point where I'm keeping a picture of us on my bedside table. Is he in Brooklyn or Afghanistan--either way, I am holding on to memories. It's hard when you're both working by day and trying to have dreams by night. Yesterday, all I ate was a probiotic yogurt and a trader joe's café latte in a can! I'm sitting at my desk, eating a lunch of grapes and....GRAPES! That's it, y'all.

Oh, before I go, I must share this inappropriately angry email I got from a reader of my magazine:

I must complain about the adhesive you use to attach mailing labels to the covers of ---- magazine. I subscribe to several magazines. All have labels which peel off easily and leave no residue. I tried pulling the labels off the Summer and Fall issues of ---- and was left with areas of a sticky substance which I could not remove. I tried removing the gum with rubber cement thinner which resulted only in removing the ink on the cover. I had to cut the corner off the issue to get rid of the gumminess. This, of course, was counterproductive as the reason for removing the label in the first place was to see the artwork in full. How about changing your technique so we all can enjoy the artwork.

Really, lady? Really? Our mailing-label technique???? How about you end sentences with the proper punctuation and go take your frustration out on the kids who never return your calls? Here's my drafted reply:

Dear [Judith Light],

I am very sorry to hear that you're having such trouble with our mailing labels. Perhaps you should purchase the magazine on the newsstands or not have an address. You seem like a scrappy, pugnacious woman who could fend for herself on the streets--maybe even become some sort of gang leader. I mean, rubber cement thinner for a mailing label? Judith, your talents are wasted on reading our magazine. I have attached a jpeg of the painting as it appeared on the cover--no corners cut at all!

Hope this helps. Thank you for your continued interest in our publication.

Best,

Sojourner

I would like to end this post with a little video--you know, cause it's Fri-day, Fri-day, Fri-ee-i-ee-i-day. How's about an awesome fake trailer?! Manic pixie dreamgirls drive me cray!

BlacktressFail

Guh.
It’s Monday.

Every night I tell myself to shake off the previous day, and resolve to go into work fresh, relaxed, and free. I promise to focus on my responsibilities, telling myself that the day will go faster if I just keep my head down and get it done. I vow to let go of the anger I feel toward my coworker who I’m convinced is planning total domination of this magazine (why else would he, at 26 years old, be so anal retentive and condescending? He’s clearly trying to show his dominance so that when he becomes the next EIC, no one’s the wiser.)

And yet here I am, 2.5 hours into the day, and I’m already asking for the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

I’m still reeling from the tragedy that was Friday’s callback. I was awkward as all get-out, and just didn’t know how to loosen up. I’ve vowed to chalk it up to a learning experience, but I just don’t know—I mean, how many times can I suck/”learn and get used to the process” (as my optimistic friends say) before they just stop calling me in for auditions? This isn’t some community theater production of Our Town—this is television, people! TV, the medium-sized screen! The place with commercial breaks and the highest stakes! The place where the only people with my skin tone are in Tyler Perry productions! As I stood in the elevator crying, I thought about “A League of Their Own”—you know, when the coach says “THERE’S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL!!!!”
There is no crying in callbacks. If I keep this up, I’ll end up more dehydrated than an African orphan. I’ve gotta man up.

I felt slightly better after consoling myself with Pinkberry, but my return to the office was met with hours of work that apparently only I could do. This isn’t even possible. World-domination-coworker–Code name: Buzzkill—is really weird sometimes. Like, he’ll be quick to point out every mistake you make, but won’t really take initiative on something if it interferes with his lunch time. He regularly spends the hour at his desk watching Internet videos, and will shut out any and all responsibilities during that time. If that’s the case, go sit your ass in the Barnes & Noble up the street.

I began today with an awesome email from a reader regarding some typos in the latest issue of the magazine I’m in charge of. She writes:
I have only reached page 31 and am ready to toss this month’s issue through the window. Either you only use spellcheck or English is your second language. What am I going to find as I keep reading? Shame on you!

Awesome. Good morning.
Apparently my lack of investment is starting to show in the finished product. So, in summation: I’m shitty at my job and shitty at blackting.

To maintain the will to live, I keep reading the reply I got from the Gotham booker in response to my thank-you email. It keeps me going strong:

Very nice to meet you as well. Glad you found the notes helpful. I think you have tremendous potential. Keep writing and performing. You can make it in this business. Will keep you in mind for anything you'd be good for at the club.

This makes me feel a lot better about eating 4 pieces of cinnamon raisin toast for breakfast.