These are the people in my neighborhood

Leaving for a week but so happy to be calling my tower on the upper upper west side home for a second straight year starting December 30th.

Wishing a merry merry to my neighbors, who include - in case I haven't mentioned them before...

- a rowdy bunch of men the BFF has dubbed members of the Tortilla Party that takes place in the Atrium between my building and the one abutting it on W 108th at odd hours of the night during late September and early October.

- an old woman (an abuela, if you will) who stands to the side of my front stoop selling "Pantalletos a pollo" at the end of the school day which it's taken me a year to decipher she then translates in English for me whenever I come back in from dropping off mail or picking up laundry as "meat patties, chicken" and I vow to try one afternoon before leaving this hood

- quite possibly THE cutest beagle puppy I've ever encountered

- and my favorites, the three men I've been introduced to as the Super of my building who all seem to answer to the name Mickey, which I affectionately refer to them as in calling and texting them incessantly whenever we need a light bulb changed or the doorknob tightened.  Think charmers like the ones in this video my Improv made:

Home sweet home.

Merry Naugmas

Many of my girlfriends have at least a glass of wine a night and are no stranger to the "woops I polished off that bottle of 3 buck chuck" phenomenon.

I had never drank by myself however until last night.  When I realized it was the last night I'd have on my own in 2011 (from here on out it's holiday gatherings, nights home at my parents' with my siblings & puppy, and hosting out of towners visiting for NYE in NYC) I decided to have myself a merry little Naugmas and dip into (drink) the birthday bottle of Malbeck the nice waitress at Jadis sent me home with last month while watching The Holiday.

I also, full disclosure, took an intermission and grabbed a single dogfish head 60 minute IPA from the bodega on the corner, and better yet, I took notes throughout the viewing on the things I loved about the movie...  scrawled in chickenscratch, I think they say...

1. The character Iris
2. The hot guy who almost sits beside her on the plane
3. That Jim from The Office has a bit part 
4. That Cameron's character can't cry
5. That that fucker Jasper texts Iris the second she's seated and ready for take off
6. That Cameron's character has Atonement with her in first/business class
7. That Iris drives along the same LA strips I did this June
8. Cameron staying on her feet just barely the way I did when I nearly fell on my face in front of my crush John Paul last Wednesday 
9. That I made it through 3/4 a bottle of birthday wine and a beer from the bodega before 11pm
10. That Jude Law can play "non d-bag" ala my fave gay chorus boy/one-day leading man who REALLY pulls off straight
11. Kate waking up in Amanda's bed mirroring my every morning in LA on Iovate's dime 
12. That Jasper rouses Iris from her LA wakeup with a request for her to ______ on his career
13. VOM
14. How much Jude Law's beauty in the breakdown buddy looks like Paul Rudd
15. That Cameron's character has a Lexus SUV
16. Jude Law's line: "I sew and I have a cow in the back yard.  How's that to relate to?"
17. Jack Black's confrontation with the girl cheating on him
18. Iris giving him water when he asks for something stronger
19. How I cried when Cameron as Amanda _____ "welcome back" cried

The _____'s are place holders for where I can't read my own writing, and I think it becomes ENTIRELY clear that I had all that wine and the beer when I switch from calling Kate Winslet by her character's name to calling Cameron Diaz by her's around #11. 

This was a fun exercise.  I highly recommend it.  I also think I need to make a point of going back to California before too long and checking out the English countryside one of these days.

Love.

Google Plus One

Last night in the 80 minutes I spent upon the treadmill I watched this commercial at least six times.




And congrats Google Geniuses, you won me over.

I'm Google Plus' newest one.

Let the circling commence.

My Christmas Earrings

A few years ago my family started a sibling grab.  There are five of us, and it would be super costly to have to shop for all of the sibs and significant others of sibs, and everyone else does it, so it seems to make the most sense for us to too.

Anyway, my middle brother the really, really, ridiculously good looking one, had me in the grab the first year, and the way our grab works is that we each get to basically tell whoever has us what we want them to get us.  So I told my bro I really wanted some drop earrings.  They didn't have to be expensive, they just had to be "going out" earrings.  You know?  He had a girlfriend, he still lived at home, I figured he'd consult the girlfriend, one of our two sisters, or our mom maybe before buying what I expected to be one of those sets of three silver hoops or dangling earrings of different sizes.

But instead, he set out on his own and bought me what I now affectionately refer to as my Christmas Earrings and religiously wear each December.  They're these little drop wreaths of Avon Holiday Caliber, and believe it or not they totally come in handy more often than I ever would have imagined they could have when I first opened them that Christmas morning.

Tonight I have to go spend an absurd amount of time on the treadmill at my NYSC, because yesterday I was a waste of space and skipped my long weekend run, and I'm getting ready to head there now, but I just stopped and thought, I think my Christmas Earrings will make my time on the treadmill much more bearable, and dug them out of my jewelry box (which my middle bro's new wife gave me for being a bridesmaid actually) so I could put them on.

This is approx the 4th time I've worn them just this month.  And they just make me so very merry.

It sounds cliche but...

If you use this phrase, and then proceed to tell me your "passion is fashion," in an interview with me when I'm in agent mode, I pretty much stop listening.

I was taught by my best (read: only real) writing teacher that if it sounds cliche, you just shouldn't say it.

Find a way to make it your own.

Be original.

Even you, Sara B.

 

I still love you.  And I agree love is a lot of the best things (ie: Christmas).  But it sounds cliche, silly girl.

I think one of my New Year's resolutions is going to have to do with not copping out once in 2012.

Miles to go before I sleep

Whose woods these are I think I know. 

His house is in the village, though; 

He will not see me stopping here 

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there's some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

-Robert Frost

Tell me about it, Robbo.  I had an impossibly difficult time getting my miles in tonight.  But I did it.

I've pretty much checked out for 2011 so it exhausts me just knowing I have 6 more days of agenting, 2 as an actress, 3 full of friend engagements, 15 to prove I'm a writer, 7 for which I'll be a nomad, and 8 as a sister in residence on Elsworth this year.  Miles to go before I sleep is the prevailing theme, and I will run a remarkable 72.5 more miles before ringing in 2012 and officially commencing the countdown to Boston 2012.

I broke the 3 Day contact rule

"DAMMIT!"

And I'm so mad at myself for doing so.  It was so JV.

I didn't even think twice before doing it.  A couple weekends ago I just went ahead and fb messaged a boy I was totally into after our first two meetings without giving it that buffer, and poof, window of opportunity appears to most likely be closed most likely because he took the premie-message to be an indicator of my A.) potential clinginess, B.) lack of experience, and/or C.) classic crazy.

MANNN.  So annoyed.  I was on autopilot - I blame it on one too many holiday cocktails that weekend having thrown me off my game.  And just when I'd thought I'd gotten my groooove back.

Don't get me wrong - I did get my groove back, and I'm holding onto it into and throughout 2012.

But this was amateurish.  And such a shame.

And what pisses me off more than anything else is then turning around and having the ex demonstrate his  mastery of the 3 Day contact rule when at first I didn't reply to a question he texted me in immediate response to an instigating text I sent him when all of the girls in my Improv class decided we should have a text-your-ex moment at our cast party (thank you K's Chianti) Saturday night (you follow?) and he patiently waited until Tuesday to re-ask the question.  He's not even out there playing the field!!!  It's just so unfair.

I hate this fact (that boys are naturally well equipped to adhere to the 3 Day contact rule.  I don't think it's just my ex who's got the routine down, I believe the male species invented the rule) for the same reason I hate laundry.  Because I hate being bad at things that are necessary.

GRRRRRRRRR.

Nothing could be finer...

So I've taken to listening to my family's Christmas albums on my December training runs for Boston 2012.

And I don't mean family faves like Barry Manilow's Because It's Christmas or A Rosie Christmas or Christmas With the Chipmunks, I mean the album brought to you by the brilliance of none other than mother turned producer Mama Naugs, who thought up the idea to gift to friends and family compilations of my siblings and I (and various special guests - herself included naturally) singing carols and Christmas Songs one year resulting in a twelve year streak of recordings done at our family friends' studio in Groton, MA.

And this morning, I listened to the year my Nanny & Papa were our guest stars.  And talk about talent.  My Nanny croons like she's straight off the soundtrack of a Cary Grant movie - her voice is so sweet & buttery on the brink of a warble (you know the effect I mean?), and well anyway, as I ran I thought about how I planned to write a post bemoaning the fact that I have to do my laundry today.

I know that for most 20somethings laundry's sort of just a part of life but for me it is the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE.  I detest the whole process and am patiently as possible awaiting the day in my life when I have someone to do it FOR me (and someone to drive me around, but more on that later).  Now whether this will be one person or I will divide these tasks up amongst a supportive staff of sorts one day is TBD, I just know it HAS to happen, and I SUSPECT I have this hankering for help in these two particular arenas because I saw my Papa drive my Nanny everywhere AND do the laundry for her year in and year out.  Note: she'd do the wash, but they didn't have a dryer so he used to drive to the laundromat when the loads came out of the laundry on days when they couldn't be hanged out to dry in the back yard (they're country folk).

The thing is, their love story is far from fairy tale fancy.  It's been a tumultuous ride for the two of them.  But in my warped sense of reality, I still see my Nanny's life as being somewhat that of a princess's.  And to hear my Nanny, in her crooner voice, duet with my Papa to the song "Nothing Would Be Finer Than To Be In Carolina..." which they'll do upon request at the drop of a hat, and have always done regardless of whether they were getting along at that given moment in time, you'd think the two of them were movie stars madly in love.

And frankly, a girl can dream.  If it's my future husband who sweeps me off my feet with gestures of doing the laundry and driving me places, God Bless, if not, c'est la vie - I'll keep pounding the pavement till I can pay for these services.

Seriously, nothing could be finer.

Tis The Season to Pay It Forward

As an actress, I am used to relentlessly promoting myself in my signature line and statuses... come see me in this!  buy tix to that!  This month though, I may seem like I'm a walking solicitation for funds, but I swear it's all in good taste!

If you or anyone you know is looking for ways to give back this Holiday Season, take a minute to tell them about these opportunities:

There's the Open Door Food Pantry Feeding People Changing Lives:



The Manhattan Chamber of Commerce Young Professionals and the Silver Lining Society who's event I'm headed out to check out in a little bit from which all proceeds will benefit the Hope and Heroes Children cancer Fund at Columbia University Medical Center.

And of course the Melanoma Foundation of New England in conjunction with Team Andy
And most melanomas, if caught early, can be cured, so please consider supporting my run at http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/daniellenaugler/RunningforCover_Boston_2012


Also on the docket for March is a production of The Vagina Monologues I'm pretty much already obsessed with after just 1 meeting.  And believe me that will warrant statuses and signature line mentions as well, but the best part of involvement with any V-Mon production is that it's two fold: entertainment and in the spirit of supporting an enormous population of women around the world whose voices deserve to be heard via Eve Ensler's V-Day movement.

A very happy fact indeed.

A Carrie Bradshaw Christmas

I don't think I mentioned that the merriment I partook in out in Brooklyn Wednesday night was hosted by my "Miranda."

'Tis the season for a million mini celebrations of course, so this afternoon I saw the uber popular Christmas Concert at St Ignatius on the Upper East Side with my "Charlotte" and "Samantha."  It's just so funny how I really do have these three girlfriends in the city who couldn't live in more different hoods in or run in farther separate circles.

Naturally, my favorite part of the concert was hearing BC Chorale classics like Tollite, Ave Maria and O Holy Night (in original French), but then I'd be lying to say I wasn't equally as entertained by my lower east side dwelling modmate who used to live on the Upper East and I being able to tell our Chelsea based modmate where she'd have the easiest time catching a cab after the concert as I was by the 90 minutes of of non stop Christmas music.

"You're right!  I see cab lights at 86th!"  She exclaimed.

"We're uptown girls." I explained.

And I loved how SATC we were.  And THEN I found $20.

Mums

Pictured below are white spider mums

Making this afternoon bitter sweet are real ones.

Melancholy if not merry, my December has been some sort of lesson on the truth in comedy, the humor in heartbreak, and the medicinal high making someone laugh almost always results in.

For example, I fell out of the shower Monday morning - perhaps still somewhat hungover from Saturday night's festivities in Brooklyn, and my retelling of the story made my bff nearly wet himself which in turn turned my Tuesday from gray to A-OK.  

And knowing that I have a night with fellow improvisers to look forward to this weekend makes the fact that I am sad about saying goodbye to a dear friend this afternoon (my mom asked just now on the phone, and I teared up at the realization) just a tad easier to face.

So, ta-da! 

I was 18 minutes late to work this morning

which of course is humorous because I live in my office.  So basically it's not that the NY division of the agency didn't open on time it's that my brain didn't turn on until 9:18 when I awoke to a blue sky for the first time in days, birds chirping and a voice in my head saying "oh shit, I'm late for work."

I'll count it toward my lunch break, call it a vegetable and move on.  But as I so often like to do, I first want to shirk the responsibility and point an accusatory finger for the portion of the blame that I can not claim personally.   I was in Brooklyn for the second time in a week last night engaging in more merriment.  And while there was spiked cider to be had, the culprit that kept me there late in to the evening on this occasion was good old fashion squeaky clean fun brought to the child in all of us by Trader Joes!

Seriously friends, $7 buys you a night worth of memory making.  Without a doubt the best bargain of the season. 

Hilarity hailing from the windy city

Saw a show at IO, but honestly wish we could have seen some of my fellow BC theatre girls perform... These three (of Kit Kat Club fame) crack. me. up.

From the makers of the doozy...

it's the doover.

As in - tomorrow is a Do Over (a doover).

Because I have a daily journal I just noticed I hadn't written in since Tuesday, November 22nd, and that's nothing if not unacceptable, so it obviously calls for a doover.

And I'm simply going to pretend the last two weeks were documented elsewhere and promise to write daily like a good doobie from now till the end of December.

I think tomorrow is going to be an Oldies 103.3 streaming day because sometimes nothing is icing on the New York holiday cupcake like Boston's Holiday Music Station.

Winter Blues, but don't worry - this isn't a depressing entry

Because the winter blue I'm referring to first is the afternoon sky color of the snowflake fleece I wore home Sunday morning as I made my Trek of Shame home from the apartment I'd spent the night at following my Williamsburg based friend's Ugly Holiday Sweater party.

Nothing says Classy with a capital C for Christmas like not being able to wake up the other host who's room you left your coat and scarf in and having to ride the L to the N to the 2 to the 1   in your boots, leggings, miniskirt, wreath earrings and token ugly holiday sweater.

Pretty sure I was hungover if not drunk for my Improv Class Show at noon, but really think that helped free me up for my performance, so all in all a win-win weekend.

Currently very much engaged in the War of Art (both Pressfield's book and the battle with Resistance).  But finding myself on the brink of the New Year desperate for a reason to resolve.  And winter blue in the face for having prolonged accomplishing a handful of the items on my To Do This Fall list.

It's like I can SEE the light at the end of the Book tunnel, so I should just jump aboard the trains that keep whizzing by me in the direction of the finish, but I keep being scared to!  And same with starting to up the ante on my marathon training... I'm waiting until the last minute to formally start readying myself for the race aspect...

I need a muse.

Girls Rule and Boys Drool

I deplore that I removed a post I wrote earlier this year per one individual boy's request.

And I can't believe it's been 2.5 weeks since I last sent my train of thoughts out into cyber space.

I've literally got to run, although I'm strongly considering going to bed before 9 and waking up early to get my miles in, but I have been meaning to share one of the things I considered to be the best about my time in Chicago last month.

We had two really awesome GNOs (girls' night outs) and we've got all these adorable pics documenting the time we managed to spend in virtually every quadrant in the city, we got into a club with an uber long line sans having to wait, we had drinks bought for us by guys - one of whom was married (boys drool) - we went to the zoo, and I walked in on someone in the bathroom at the bar where we watched the Notre Dame game with dozens of BC grads who live in Chi-town, which was especially awkward, because then she was sitting like right beside us with another BC posse, we saw The Bean, we drove along the lake, we laughed, we cried, we ate nachos and drank bud light, we picked up where we left off 5 years ago as if truthfully no time had passed at all and it was just last week when we were going drunk to the advent mass as St Ignatius after our roomie xmas....

And we never toted purses.  Girls rule.  We were so fun, drama free, and mobile.  It was laudable.