Ahhh...the absolutely last blog on this damn Mac. Last night Sarah and I went over to Best Buy and bought Mom a beautiful Compaq PC and a lovely, gorgeous, adorable mouse, whose every little squeak I will thank God for as I gratefully ignore the damn touch pad on my new baby.
I must say that while Best Buy is unquestionably a lovely store with lots of lovely things in it (the base price on my new baby was only 399.99), the personnel is sightly lacking. We bought and paid for my computer and were told that BB would install the anti-virus and whatever else it needed, and we should come back to pick it up. This, the gentleman said, would take three hours. Having read the website (which said they closed at 7 pm on Sundays), I said, well, what time do you close, and was assured that they closed at 10 pm. So Sarah and I bounced off to the East Village to meet our friend Shai and his friend Sarah and ate about a ton of Japanese food at Angry Badger, secure in the knowledge that I could then go back to 23rd and 6th to get my computer. P.S., which I'm sure you saw coming a mile away, the store closed at 7 pm, not 10 pm, and was thoroughly locked up when I got back. Ah, well - at least I could go to Duane Reade and buy cigarettes and watch it snow as I trundled home in the taxi - even if I did lose my gloves.
Meanwhile, I was thrown into a complete tizzy on Friday by Bill the trustee calling me to tell me that he was about to call Joshua to insist that he was out of the house by the end of this week or Bill would have all his things thrown in the street. Well, this didn't seem like the best idea in the world to me. If you are living with someone who is 6 feet tall and weighs 180 pounds and has a tendency to shriek and throw things when he drops an ice cube (yeah, really) because he's not really tightly wrapped in the first place, you don't really want to upset him - particularly if you're 5'3" and little. And really, REALLY hate confrontation of any kind. Luckily I called my pal Caesar in a panic, and he told me that there are squatter's laws preventing this kind of thing, which I was able to tell Bill and stave him off.
However, this whole contretemps gave me a great idea. So I simply told Joshua that all the work to stage the house for sale was going to start a week from today, and that we both had to start packing things up, and that the door to his den was going to be demolished, and that there would be all kinds of noise and whatnot...and he can't stand noise and fuss (that he doesn't make himself, that is). This worked amazingly well. He's been galvanized into action, the books are being packed up, and he's suddenly showering me with all kinds of goodies...extra money, the cost of my take-out Indian meal tonight, and...yahoo...the big flat screen TV downstairs for my new apartment! Admittedly, I have to type his damn book list, but I'm just about finished with that, and if his client buys the books, he's promised me a couple of thousand bucks from the sale. This is not, definitely, a bad thing. And he's even going to go to Best Buy and pick up my computer tomorrow.
So things are looking very copacetic, and I can concentrate on my two auditions this week. I'm a little confused about what to wear for the dominatrix one, but I've just about settled on heels, a black miniskirt, a black turtleneck and sheer black stockings. That's the thing about auditions...you want to let them know you understand what the role is about, but on the other hand, you don't want to look clownish, which is always a possibility on a call like this. I'll probably go heavier on the makeup than I normally would, too - without getting carried away. You know, slightly more eyes and bright red lipstick. For the Friday call, when I'm doing Noel Coward, that's my good basic black dress, regular hose and heels, and a wonderful multicolored silk scarf/shawl thing I have. I was going to do pearls, but basic black and pearls is...well...basic. The scarf, on the other hand, is memorable. Memorable is good at auditions, as long as it's not "Jeez, remember that idiot broad in the leopard print dress with the red heels?" Not that kind of memorable. I will never forget seeing a woman at an audition for Doubt going in to read for one of the nuns in a ratty t-shirt, uncombed hair, and a pair of wrinkled pants with her thong hanging out. Yeeks.
I shall return on my NEW COMPUTER!