Monday, November 29, 2010

Back to broccoli

It's unbelievable how it happens every time without fail. I get off the bus in Boston decked out in all black and wearing fierce NYC boots and then I head home to Manhattan after my mom drops me back off at South Station a mere 5 days later, and I'm frumpily sporting my New Balance sneaks on the subway ride back uptown.
C'est la vie of a Boston turned New York Naugs. Regression's a bugger. And the bff would say it has to do with the batches of chocolate chip cookies I insist on baking whenever I'm home for a special occasion (or no special occasion) which is every time. I toted them on the T with me from Newton Centre to Copley this past Friday night for our Nooksgiving Festivities.

Anyway, luckily there's a Starbucks directly across the street from where the megabus drops us Massholes off at the corner of W 28th St and Fashion Ave - theatre folk all know it because of its proximity to Chelsea Studios where Bob Cline gets us brimming with smiles, flaunting fake eyelashes, and modeling the brightest possible dresses we can whenever there's a non-eq tour auditioning.

So I hopped off the Mega and hopped up on a peppermint mocha quicker than you can say Hannukah Harry and I should be back to normal in no time.

I thought I would quickly warn y'all , though, to be on the lookout for a facelift of sorts as Younameitnaugs.blogspot.com will be going through a renaissance before long because I was informed this weekend that it's hard for a fella to justify reading a thisawayrose themed blog at the office, and I want to be sure I can reach as broad an audience as possible with this here vehicle.

As I'm sure many of you can relate, I feel bloated thanks to a carbloaded albeit they were the best and their my favorite four days - so I'll be saying goodbye to the white bread and mashed potatoes diet and going back to brocolli for the next few weeks. N Y See ya real soon . . .

(Well if the mouskateers can do it...)


Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Home for the holiday, and oh so thankful

Thankful beyond belief to no longer be spinning my wheels, and to be here home on Elsworth just visiting for the week. Thankful to have come so far since last November when I was nomadic to the n'th degree, moving three times, in more debt than I could manage, at war with the bugs, and hardly feeling the least bit festive.


I LOVE the holidays again! I LOVE LOVE. Thank goodness I went to three beautiful weddings this summer and was reminded of this.


My four favorite days of the year have arrived and I'm so looking forward to loving each and every moment of them and all of the quality time I'm going to get to spend with people I love.

Speaking of... so the bff read the brief post I wrote "for" him the other night at Starbucks, and get this... he laughed - OUT LOUD - 4 TIMES! And I was there with him as he was reading, so I cracked up hearing his cackle above the holiday music already playing at the Starbucks in the World Plaza on 48th St, and I was literally tickled a thisawayrose-template-(for those of my, 2, readers who've been with me since the beginning, you'll know that's a nod to my early blogging days)-shade of pink that I'd pleased him with what I'd written about our texting, and my narcissism.


Because I can like the sound of my voice all I want, but at the end of the day, there's nothing
more gratifying than eliciting laughter from an audience of readers or onlookers, than giving with whatever gifts you've got. I heard back from another agent regarding my book, and her encouragement was uber exciting, what's kept me plugging away at the project though is the texts and emails I've gotten back from the few people I've let read some of it who represent my "target sales demographic:"


from an actual nook girl, "I'm almost crying reading it so far and only on pg 3!"


from my sorellina, "I'm on page 36, and although I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, I'm loving it. It's very good and I've found a few typos." (Ever the editor apparently)

and from my oldest friend, "I read your first 10 pages all the way through twice last night and suspect that had I had the rest of it, I wouldn't have put it down until I reached the end! It's really, really, wonderful...!"


Talk about being tickled pink :)


So thankful for friends, family, the fun that was had at my birthday party Monday night, the creative processes I'm involved in, and the fact that in honor of my birthday, Disney's gone and released a brand new princess movie for me to see on Saturday. Happy Turkey Day All!


Saturday, November 20, 2010

Are normal people narcissistic too?

Here's a short one for the bff...

Actual text message I sent him this morning: "Do you ever search for yourself on broadwayworld.com just because you can? I do."

Actual thought that occured to me: "Does the photographer call me so often to chat partly because he just enjoys the the sound of my voice?"

I'm not interested in solely pursuing a career as a musical theatre performer, because frankly I'm fulfilled by a plethora of other outlets in my life (personal, professional, creative and comical ones like cookie baking).

I am enjoying this blogging thing because I get a kick out of re-reading what I've written after a few days or weeks have gone by. I could listen to the recording of my sisterbands' country album on repeat an embarassing number of times and find myself looking forward to it being so close to seasonally appropriate for me to re-post this little Sam Willmott gem on FB.



What can I say? I like my voice - the one I've found through writing these, and the one I'm reminded I have whenever I go on cartrips by myself and get to listen to / sing along with my favorite showtunes.

Are normal people narcissistic too? Or is it just those of us in "the arts?"

Thursday, November 18, 2010

The crown has led us to the crux

Sounds almost HP7 Part 1ish, doesn't it?

We're not talking about he-who-shall-not-be-named's horcruxes though, we're talking about the crux of the matter brought to our attention in light of Prince William's recent proposal to Kate Middleton which is that "neither men nor women need to be married to have sex or companionship or professional success or respect or even children -- yet marriage remains revered and desired."

Thank you "What is Marriage Good For?" for this observation and thank you ACK Roomie for sending this article my way upon reading it yesterday morning and thinking of me.

Interestingly enough I've just re-read part of an old email I received from an ex-boyfriend I would describe as having been on "the marriage track" with at one point once upon a time. In it, he said:

"I don't need to get married for any financial reasons, emotional or "goal oriented" reasons. My dream isn't having kids and taking them to Europe or Disney..."

His second sentence is less relevant to the TIME article, I'm just compelled to include it in light of having referenced ideally wanting a boyfriend who loves traveling to those two locations equally as much as I do a couple posts ago when I was babbling on about my "must have" list... which I'll get back to before too much time goes by also, since I've yet to let you all know what it was that the Celebrity Relationship Expert Lady had to say about said list.

Sidenote: my bff zinged me last night when I cracked him up by saying him pointing out the warning signs of wrinkles on my forehead even when my face is at rest was the worst thing that had happened to me since my brother first shattered the bubble I was living in about 5 years ago by calling me out on having cellulite.

Terrible.

The zinger was the bff suggesting I share that exchange with my blog readers. All 3 of them. He has ADD and can't stand reading a blog that isn't linked to Broadwayworld or Playbill.com so I don't take offense to him also telling me I ought to try writing shorter posts. Especially because I know the 8 or so people that read these from time to time are more often seeking sufficient distraction from their desk-jobs and willing to lend me their ears or eyes as it were for the time it takes to read through these verbose rants I go on.

Anyway.

Back to the article, the timeliness of my receiving it within a day or so of posting about the fact that marriage gets brought up in my day to day life on average once every six hours and the various interesting topics it touches upon. On the whole it's rather fascinating to find ourselves facing the statistics it highlights, and I noted at the article's end that similarly to the way in which my married friend wrote off the "dating" done by our 20something friends these days, the claim is that mere "cohabitation has not yet proved to be a robust enough substitute for most Americans to believe they can build a family on it," which I take to mean, the prevalent metality is Go Big or Go Home. Commit and "close the door" as my dad would say, because even the monumental step of moving in together remains somewhat wishy washy.

And now, I have to go back to that crux part from the top of this to explain what I find myself perpetually circling around on this blog, in my mind, with each passing year which is the necessity of marriage or seeming lack thereof. Approaching 26 on the 27th, I feel like my poor ex did at 23, like I don't need to get married for any financial, emotional or goal oriented reasons. If anything marriage might serve as a hindrance to my pursuit of my dreams and career ambitions. At the same time, the further I get on my own, the higher I am educated (as this article and various statistics would have me believe) the better postured and positioned I'll wind up to enter into a successfull marriage in the long run (victoriously).

So that happy fact and Stephen Dubner (author of Freakonomics and Confession of a Hero Worshipper's) comment on the Writing Program in the School of Arts at Columbia University are two of the things that propelled me to request information on the application process to the MFA program I'm going to set my sights on for the Fall of 2012. And you heard it here first.

Louie Lips Update: She must have spent last night at her house in Queens. Lucky? for me she neglected to turn her alarm clock off, so through the wall our apartments share, I have heard her radio in its attempt to "wake her up" blasting tunes from the 80s for the past hour and 45 minutes. PLEASE COME HOME AND HIT SNOOZE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

Monday, November 15, 2010

Wisdom from the blissfully wed - warning this one's not that funny

Sometimes when you are turning 26 on the 27th you find yourself in a stage of life that is very much full of marriage talk. So this weekend on Friday I received a text from my best friend from kindergarten was she was proposed to by her boyfriend of 8 years, on Saturday I attended my little brother's engagement party at a lovely home on Center Street in Newton just across from the BC Law/Freshman Campus, and on Sunday I helped my mother pick out a card and an outfit for the wedding she was originally asked to be ordained for and preside over between our dear family friend and her 15 year senior fiance who had decided two weeks ago that one morning this month they'd like to make it official in the back yard of their house in Ayer either out on a canoe or just at the bank of the pond that they live on.

These are the most prevalent marriage-themed occurences of the weekend, but give me a minute to count here...yes, I would have to say between Friday evening and this morning, marriage/proposals/divorce/the shit or get off the pot point in a relationship/engagements/and the case for remaining single have come up at least 12 other times in my conversations with the various friends I've seen, chatted or email corresponded with. In 72 hours, 72 divided by 12, that's once every 6 hours, right?

Yeah, I mean, it's out there. And it's on people's minds. All the time. And obviously more so in Boston than NYC - city of singles, city of people searching not for love but for success, and committing not to partners in life but partners in business. C'est la vie, I supposed.

The wisdom from the blissfully wed I received was twofold. First, from the father of my brother's bride to be, who welcomed everyone to the engagement party with a few words of advice for my little bro that basically summed up to be: "brace yourself buddy, women are bitches, and you're in this for the long haul now. you'll have my support if you want to sneak upstairs to watch the basketball game so you don't have to shmooze down here with all of your future in-laws, but you'd best know you're going to be answering to my daughter if you do that and she's going to be none to happy in spite of whatever catchphrase she lobs coded your way." He was explaining how "nothing" never means nothing, and a loud sigh would be "i can't believe what an idiot you are" were it to be replaced with words spoken by the woman uttering it.

Charming, no? Rather apocalyptic really. But he's a good ol' boy, and there was a heartfelt line he wound up leaving out when he threatened to get choked up by it toward the closing of his little comedy routine, so ultimately, we all cheered for his chauvinism and appreciated the toast he encouraged everyone to make to these two coming together to start life as man & wife...

Later that same evening, I was catching up with the first of my homefriends to get married, and he was laughing at the triviality of the "dating" that we 20somethings are doing these days. "What's the point? If you're not really ready to get married, or to be engaged to be engaged, why not just all stay friends and makeout with each other?" He mused. Because our friend who's recently committed to a relationship was lamenting not being able to hit on the one uber flirtactious, skankily clad, noteworthiestly drunk girl there in the minutes before his own gorgeous girlfriend walked through the door looking stunning even in her grey sweatshirt.

And the married friend had a point, I thought. And if I might add, he also seemed perfectly pleased to be out with the boys for a bit but ultimately heading home happily to his wife of 6 months. And that was so delightful to see. **Check out the feature on his fairytale wedding in Newport Wedding Magazine, btw to see wedded bliss in its fullest :) Could not have been happier for him this May. I'm thinking I much prefer his perspective than my brother's future father in laws.

I'm all for having fun as a single gal for now, however there's ultimately going to be nothing better than finding the one and making a go of it with him. That said, I was laid up on the couch this morning with a bit of a stomach bug after spending the weekend eating everything under the sun that is so not a part of the south beach diet, and I opted to take a 2pm bus back to the city instead of sitting nauseous on one for four plus hours starting at 5am, so now I am drinking tea my mother made me out of a mug that says "love the moment" and "I do."

Friday, November 12, 2010

I gained 30 lbs in the summer of 2009

and I am currently very much in the process of losing them.

Fortunately for you this is not a weightloss blog.

God those are awful. I mean, informative from time to time. I'll admit I check http://www.dwlz.com/ twice a month on average, because how amazing is that restaurant list she and her followers have put together? It's like every time Starbucks adds a new variation of those sparkly donuts (which, by the way, the mastermind behind just asked one of my food stylists to shoot a cookbook of in Seattle, but I digress), the very instant a pink frosted or lemon filled one gets added to the Starbucks menu, there's an update on the points to be consumed right there for we point counters to find, and that is just so fabulously gratuitous.

Otherwise though weightloss blogs tend to be tumultous and rather depressing as inevitably people cave or they yo yo or they lament their falling off the Over Eaters Anonymous wagon and write about their re-committing to this or that new fad diet, and for those of us who weren't wired with wonderful metabolism and height to help the proportionality of pounds packed on periodically it all just hits too close to home.

In any case, again, this is not a weightloss blog, but I do feel inclined to address the weight I am actively taking off, because (brace yourself for some empowerment on the move here) I realized this morning when I woke up wearing a leopard print nighty I'd had on as a blouse under a cardigan for a Jersey Shore themed birthday party at the Olive Garden in Times Sq (because when you're there you're family/Italian) that got moved due to a ridiculous wait time to a French place with a fixed price menu and an unlimited Svedka drink special (have I mentioned I love November and life in general in New York City?), I realized as I rolled out my yoga mat and opted for crunches here in the basement in lieu of an hour at Crunch down the street and did some free weights while still wearing my leopard print nighty, that I am back to being a work in progress, and that is A-OK.

Because the last time I lost a significant amount of weight I did so without really focusing on it all that much. I did so by embracing being a work in progress, by eating healthily, and exercising regularly, running a few races, and drinking vodka sodas instead of dogfishheads. And my Doctor Roomie asked me on Shelter Island at the end of the summer of '09, HOW had I gained 20 lbs in two months???? Because it was hard to believe that it had happened (and because that was when i had yet to face a scale and the cold hard fact that I had actually gained 30lbs not 20). But I had completely reversed my style of living in that summer, and I could only go up from the low low I hit the week of the 4th of July that year. It was a summer of indulgence, and it was followed by close to a year of incongruity and instability, and it's only been in the last two months that I've really reigned it in and gotten a hold of myself here.

And now I've been doing double sessions at the gym, and slowly but surely I can see the inches around my waist lessening as I stand stretching in front of the mirror in my leopard print nighty , and I know it'll still be a while before I'm down to that low low again, but I'm alright with that, and I'm alright with the fact that I had a phenomenal piece of pizza last night when I got back uptown from the Jersey Shore Svedka saturated birthday party, because everything in moderation - right? And I'll spend two hours at the gym Sunday night when I get back from my little bro's engagement party in Boston because guess what... in other news: Louie Lips texted me last night, and I don't have to move out by the 15th!!!

Wooooooo! So that means, I'm here with Central Park as my back yard for another full month and by Christmas I'll have Crunched off the next bulk of the Nantucket belly, and won't it be very merry and bright by the time the ball drops and we're brought into 2011?

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Just when you thought she couldn't get any better

my crazy-assed landlady (who has accused me of trying to play games with her by asking for my security deposit back when I no longer wanted to stay through January after she questioned whether I was attempting to sneak a live-in boyfriend *aka my bff who spent two nights here in early September* into my 9 x 11 windowless, kitchenless, basement studio and then told me she feared it would appear to our neighbors that I was running a brothel out of said studio the weekend my two best girlfriends from Boston came to stay here) apparently thinks I'm in the market to buy in Manhattan.

That's right, the gem I found in my inbox today is below:


And the first question this begs is, did she think I'd see the maintenance fee of $666/month and jump on the offer????
Because I didn't. I saw the maitenance fee of $666/month and jumped to the conclusion that I have been right all along and there is a very good chance that this woman is the DEVIL.
Hold on a second. I need to backtrack and stop slandering while I'm at it. This landlady is otherwise a seemingly sweet woman. A newly wed, real-estate agent, who went to India to see the Taj Mahal and spend a few days in an Ashram the same week I was eat, pray, loving my way through Italy. She believes in Karma and botox and dyeing her eyebrows and eyelashes and injecting collagen into her "louie" lips. And when we first spoke the terms of our agreement (that I'd commit to living here for through the holidays and then go month to month starting after the New Year) I really appreciated the offer she made me to pull listings of apartments that promised to have lower rents than the ones I would have been looking to sign leases on for September or October move-in dates.
But, that was then, and this is now. It's 4 days from the 15th which is the date she called me on the 1st of the month to ask if I would be willing to move out of by so that she could effectively rent out her duplex in its entirety (her upstairs apartment and my little box in the basement). She'd had an offer from someone who would like to move in and rent the unit (my space included). Then she told me she would likely know if the rental was going to go through by Friday of last week (the 5th). Then Saturday the 6th came, then Sunday the 7th, Monday the 8th, Tuesday the 9th (when I emailed her to check in), Wednesday the 10th and today the 11th, Thursday, when I left her a voicemail saying I would be happy either way (content to move out next Monday and spend an extended holiday with the fam before moving into my new beautiful, bright, big apartment near Columbia on Jan 1 or content to stay here through the holidays the way we'd initially agreed) but could she please let me know what her plans are for the apartment.
And now I'm waiting and waiting (and mind you, I can hear this woman through the wall our apartments share, so I know she's been around all day working from home, making calls, yadayadayada), but I've got nothing. Nothing from her.
But this damn mass email about the time to buy being now. People, am I losing it here? Or, is my bgf from Boston right am I the sorrily unknowing participant in a bizarro social experiment??
Gotta bounce - I'm doublebooked with Birthday Parties this evening. I love November in New York.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Need dating advice????

Was the subject of an ACTUAL email I received yesterday from a dear friend of mine. She went on to write (and I naturally responded):


She sent another email elaborating on what she needed from volunteer advisees and asking if I happened to have a dealbreaker list when it comes to dating, like "he has to be this tall or have this color hair" and so on.

And do I....

I told her her celebrity expert would no doubt have a field day with this one. Many are familiar with my list as whenever I'm getting ready to go back on the market I remind friends and loved ones who might be interested in setting me up with single lads they know that he need not apply if he's not

*over 6 ft tall
*preferably athletic
*appreciative of the arts however
*in no way employed in an artistic field
*at least as funny as I am if not funnier
*and at least as smart as I am if not smarter.
*he cannot regularly buy nicer shoes than I do
*he cannot be an only child
*he cannot be from Connecticut or ever want to live there
*his heterosexuality musn't be at all questionable
*and he would ideally love travelling to Disney World and Europe equally as much

And while the photographer manfriend from the Upper East Side who I went out with last night has the whole career in the arts category working against him, I found out that in addition to loving football, his motorcylce, and dancing like a doofus, he also loves making a fool out of himself singing karaoke in dive bars (and this fact counters the career faux pas).

And it was in being thoroughly delighted by our dueting Dashboard Confessional that I realized I must add yet another must-have to my list.

*he has to be able to sing

Obviously. Can't believe I hadn't thought of that one earlier on in the listmaking process. Also can't believe I delighted in dueting Dashboard Confessional - blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol. I'm not usually one to volunteer for karaoke, but I was particularly appreciative of the photog taking the lead and making a plan for the evening, complete with a moonlit stroll through Central Park on the way from having a pair of pink frozen cosmos at my favorite West Side bar to an East Side dive bar he'd heard about where there'd be karaoke and canoodlin, so I simply had to oblige.


Is it bold of me to claim that this blog got a whole lot livelier in the past 24 hours?

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

The Gauntlet Has Been Thrown

and this-sister-friend-actress-writer-agent-nomad-princess has been put to task. Give the people more... I've been told. And make it funnier than finding trailers for the movie Eat Pray Love.

Fair enough. If inquiring minds want to know, there's certainly more to be said, especially now that I'm back in New York full time. And if I can't find funny things to comment on and write about then what's the point of blogging in the first place I suppose?

I am going on a date tonight.

Over on the East Side with a photographer manfriend who I see from time to time who loves football, his motorcycle and dancing like a doofus. It struck me as I was exiting the subway at 81st and Central Park West a few minutes ago how happy I am that this time when I trek across the park to see him on the Upper East Side, I'll only have a small purse or clutch with me. The last time I met him in his neck of the woods it was when I was very much in my nomadic naugs mode and I was schlepping a gym bag, an overnight bag, a bag with a bottle of wine for my college roommate who was hosting me in Manhattan that evening, my huge purse and of course the iPad in its handy dandy tote-case (since afterall I was meeting said photographer professionally on this occasion and would be showing him my artists' portfolios over a drink...or two...or dinner...drinks, dessert, and so on).

In anycase. Picture me frazzled from having gotten off the 5am megabus at 9 and going straight into a day of meetings with clients and potential new artists to represent, an hour at the gym, a coffee with the bff, and sitting up at one of the tall tables at the trendy bar I suggested we meet at with all five bags at my feet, barricading me in my seat. I looked like the complete spaz that I was.

A few minutes ago when I realized how happy I was that I would only have to travel East this evening with very little in tow, I was carrying my big purse that I now tote the iPad in because I was coming from a couple meetings in Brooklyn, and a frightening thought occured to me: I feel weighed down, oppressed and overwhelmed wearing a pea coat and carrying a bag on my shoulder, what in God's name am I going to do when I have a child to lug around someday?

Living at the 81st St subway station, it's inevitable that there are mothers and their little ones or nannies and their clients' kids getting off midday for excursions to the Museum of Natural History, so naturally I am always carried away by the cuteness that is their excitement upon seeing the murals of the animals and dinosaurs along the walls of the station. Because there's very few things more adorable, but still... to sit in your seat on the subway car and see the pictures through the window is one thing, to have to go through the process of disembarking, getting through the turnstile with baby, diaper bag, maclaren stroller, hats, mittens, scarves, jackets, pacifiers, blankies and whatever else goes along with you on the excursion...

I am literally exhausted just imaging the process. I was frazzled carrying five bags for myself to a dinner date. I am annoyed having to hoist a bag over my shoulder just so I'll have the iPad well secured for travel around the city. I was excited planning what small purse I'll pack with lipstick, wallet, and metrocard six hours from now. I'm just baffled by the fact that I'll be 26 in 18 days and here I am the girl who used to want to have popped out three babies by the time I'd turned 30, and now it's a lifestyle that's rather altogether unfathomable to me.

Now for where this all gets a little trickier to tackle. (Trickier? Thus far this has been inane babble that any 20something single girl in the city's likely to think on any given day but not bother anyone else with. Still I think I'm getting to some sort of relatively insightful delivery of a day in the life that's somewhat more interesting and slightly funnier than finding an Eat Pray Love trailer while tracking down an exercise routine, so I'm plowing onward).

Last night my bff was going to Brooklyn to meet up with a specialfriend, and I said to him piss and vinegarily, "pssh, I would never go to Brooklyn for a boy."

But then this morning, I had a meeting with a producer who grew up on Long Island, went to Syracuse, moved to Manhattan, and is now living in Brooklyn Heights all happy-family-ly with her husband and 5 year old daughter. And I don't know if you're familiar with the Clark Street stop on the 2/3 just one stop out of Manhattan and into Brooklyn, but it is so damn cute. So. Damn. Cute. It spits you out on a tree lined Street with a friendly little cafe and a Gristedes on the opposite corner. And I'll be damned if I didn't think to myself leaving that meeting, "well I mean I guess I would go to Brooklyn for a boy if we could live on Clark Street in Brooklyn Heights and buy pink-sparkly-sugar-covered cookies for our little five year old daughter who was having her first playdate today."

Will the real slim shady please stand up? Will the real Naugs ever be revealed to me even?!?! Would I rather go simple pursed on this date across town or have a five year old who I'd get all excited showing the animal and dinosaur murals to in the moments before I whisked her and her entourage of random little kid accessories up the stairs to the museum?

I don't know. But that's where this blog's going. With me on the decision making quest. Cause believe me, y'all, this is about choice every step of the way.