So I got this email from The Actor's Fund Work Program, which, God bless it, finds jobs for actors who need the cash and people who want to transition out of acting. (That's how I found my straight temp agency.) (No, I don't want to transition out of acting, but some fools do.)
And this is why, children, you might have seen me on the corner of Essex and Delancey for four hours today singing the praises of a Democratic candidate for the State Senate. With my clipboard. And my campaign literature. Just me, generally being one of those totally annoying people who steps out in front of you when you're only trying to get to the damn subway, for God's sake. Sorry! But I need the cash, so there.
Two words, next - one of warning and one recommendation, all rolled up together. The warning is, never accept an invitation to a restaurant where a friend is a chef. The recommendation is, go to the restaurant immediately without stopping.
Sarah and I went to Dovetail (77th, just off Columbus) on Sunday night, and I have not been hungry again until today. It just kept coming, and coming, and coming...
Start with the amuse-bouche - vodka gelee with caviar and capers. Followed by the pork belly and the crab ravioli. Followed by the lamb meatloaf with red pepper sauce and ricotta. (Our friend invented it and wanted our opinion. Which was "Mmm. Mmmmm. Mmmmph. Mmmph. Slurp.") Followed by the Berkshire pork and the skate wing in panko crumbs. Followed by, God help us, the strawberry tamarind sorbet, the vanilla cheesecake, the banana bread pudding, and the strawberries with basil ice cream. Followed by the tiny little chocolate cupcakes. Followed by me and Sarah waddling out, proceeded by our stomachs by a good two feet. Then, of course, we met our pal and some of the other staff for beer - no, for God's sake don't ask me where I put the beer - I certainly don't know.
Also, imagine Sarah standing in front of the bar when we were having a cigarette before we went in and poking her stomach at me and saying, quite clearly - "Feel how hard it is, Mom!" Yeah, well...
And today, on the corner of Delancey and Essex, I saw the most hideously amazing new fashion - one can only hope it doesn't catch on, because it's the worst thing I ever saw in my life.
There was a young man coming out of the McDonald's there wearing what looked like those ghastly huge baggy pants with the underwear hanging out. Well, he was wearing them - up to a point. These baggy pants, however, stopped being baggy about mid-thigh, and became tight pants. The effect looked like nothing else than somebody wearing an extremely full diaper.
I can only assume that someone dreamed this up because people were losing their pants all over the place. Now, of course, they can only go so far. And naturally, the guy was clutching himself. Guys wearing these baggy pants are ALWAYS clutching themselves. I guess it's because there's so much fabric in the area, they need to constantly be reassured that they haven't lost their what-have-yous in there.
I am now going to eat a small something. Tra la la.