Friday, November 7, 2008

Avoiding The Wet Spot

Gotcha! For all those of you were were longing for detailed salaciousness, sorry about that. Well, I don't deal in that sort of thing because, much as I love my loyal readers, it's none of your damn business, and anyway, I haven't got anything to report. And if I did, I would report it with three dots, otherwise known as an ellipsis, as they used to do in women's novels; i.e., "He took her in his strong arms and led her gently to the couch . . . " followed immediately by: "Chapter 12: Next Morning" (which, in novels of this ilk, invariably spoke of them both fully dressed at the breakfast table).

No, no, the damn cat threw up on my side of the bed, that's all. Growl. It's been a long day already.

I somehow completely forgot how quick it is to get to Harlem (probably because I had Monday's Bay Ridge excursion in my mind), so I ended up there at 7 am instead of 8 am. Or at any rate, getting off the A Train (which you may now start humming) at 7 am. As it turns out, 130th between St. Nicholas and Convent is ALL uphill from 125th Street...and it was a damp morning. I don't do damp mornings and climbing very well. And in this particular school (they have two branches - one on 130th and one on 122nd), there is no elevator. So AFTER you haul your tired panting ass uphill for five blocks, you still have to climb three flights of stairs, which I consider cruel and unusual punishment.

And I had a boss of a type that drives me nuts. She was one of those people who make a huge fuss of everything and yammer on incessantly about how busy they are and yet never actually get anything done because they're focused on being busy...if I'm making sense. And she also had to micromanage every single thing I was doing (which was a perfectly simple matter of stuffing some folders, for God's sake) - which of course made her even busier.

Luckily, they only hired me from 8 am to noon, and you better believe I wasn't going to hang out and offer them more time. So I took the bad taste of the lady out of my mouth by having some nice Popeye's spicy chicken (hate KFC, which is all doughy stuff and little chicken - LOVE Popeye's spicy) and one of their great biscuits and some coleslaw, and then indulged myself thoroughly by taking the bus all the way down 5th Avenue, which is a ride I adore. You can see all the fall foliage in Central Park (you've got to get out there, it's glorious) and all those great massive buildings. It was a lovely ride. (Lord & Taylor has started putting in its Christmas windows, God help me. I don't even have a headcount for Thanksgiving yet.)

Then I went over to Casting Networks and had them put my lovely new COLOR headshots on my site, and as soon as I can get somebody over here who can do it, I am actually going to put a picture of me up here. Are you thrilled to the very core of your collective being out there? I'm sure you'll be delighted to know that I'm going to spare you the tasteful, no, no, I'm not THAT crazy. Should you ever feel the need to look at ladies in late middle age and beyond cavorting in the rude nude, I suggest France, where this is normal behavior at the beach. Personally, I find it unaesthetic (although I love skinny dipping - I merely prefer a decent cover of darkness).

And boy, did I make a mistake when I told my newest temp agency that I was an early riser and lived in Manhattan. What I meant was that they could call me at say, 7:30 am and I could get to a decent office job that started at 9:30 am pretty nearly on time. What THEY took this to mean is that every damn seminar that comes down the pike now seems to require my services. I have to be at 49th and Lex at 7 am on Monday and at the Javits Center (again) at 7 am on Tuesday. There are drawbacks to this. I don't mind getting up at 5 am, since I do it for Equity auditions (if you're not in line by 7 am at Equity, you tend not to get seen). And in summer, it's no sweat at all - I love very early summer mornings. But once we're back to plain old Eastern Standard time, the sun doesn't rise until 6:30 - by which time I'm almost at my destination - and it'll start to get damned cold out there. To add insult to injury, next week's jobs are from 7 am to 1 pm on Monday and 7 am to 11 am on Tuesday. At $12 an hour. You know, I don't actually think this is worth getting out of bed for. However, since no one has offered me any OTHER work that pays at all on those two days...oh, wait, there WAS a gentleman this morning as I was traipsing around Harlem who seemed quite the worse for wear (and looked to be in his 70s) who was making kissing noises at me, but somehow he didn't look as if he'd pay much. Particularly since he reeled into the side of a car and dozed off standing up just after making the kissing noises. I guess I'll have to stick with the damn seminars until my magic new photos start working for me and I get some background work.

I'm going to bed, mainly because I can't keep my eyes open any longer. Actually I was ready for bed around 6 pm, but that sort of thing only leads to waking up at 4:30 tomorrow morning, which is completely unnecessary.

Love, Wendy

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