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.

A note from Nomadic Naugs

I'm going on a mid-Western mid-November tour tomorrow for little apparent reason.

I'll see Chicago for the first time since I was 7, a modmade I haven't seen since graduation from BC, and Ann Arbor, Michigan in all its' collegiate splendor, and then I'll bounce back to Manhattan Monday night only to leave for Boston Wednesday morning.

Looking forward to being home for the holiday, I'm even more excited to get home to New York the following week for the onset of the Christmas Season.

I just needed to make this note, because obviously Thanksgiving is the occasion for this pilgrimage to MA  I'll be making next week, and my mother, I must say, does a tremendous job hosting our brood.  Numbering anywhere from 17 - 35 family members and friends, she graciously greets guests with a table that's been set at least a week in advance.

And just a minute ago the bosslady sent around some gorgeous imagery of Thanksgiving feasts styled by our Boston based artists, and commented on how it was getting her excited for next Thursday.

But the thought that occurred to me, as I took note of the care that had been taken in selecting seasonal napkin rings and placemats, that I never plan to throw a dinner party.  And that someday when I have to host a holiday annually for my family - I'll probably pay someone to think of the pretty touches that will effectively set the scene.

Because that's just not really my thing.

Sometimes I wonder

Who reads my blog?

And then ads like this show up on the Facebook sidebar, and I realize... the people in charge of their targeted marketing do.

Mouse in my house

As you may or may not know, I waged a full scale war against bed bugs in the winter of 2009, I harbor a strong desire to kick a pigeon at some point in my life, and I am really a reluctant animal lover at best:

Let's just say, I don't have the money to buy real leather or fur but even if I did, I doubt I'd be the first to check labels. I'm not proud, I'm just honest.

The point is, I want vermin and pests as far away from me as possible, and while I realize I share Manhattan with innumerable rodents, when I say to my San Fran roommates (we're finally not living 4 to a 2 bedroom apt THANK GOD, but we're still pushing the limits of the lovely 2B with the 2 of them sharing my chiaccherona roomie's old room), and when I say to them that we are not just talking friendly field mice but rather the threat of TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA MICE finding feasts for themselves amidst the food they CONTINUE to leave uncovered on our kitchen counter, clogging the drain to the sink and sans wrapping in our refrigerator I MEAN IT.

So now I am sitting behind my desk at my home office in my equivalent of a biohazardous suit - aka boots and my work out gear. Because should I come across the mouse they screamed about when they thought they saw it a mere hour ago I will want the option to crush it with my heel or at the very least to not have to fear having it scamper across my otherwise sock wearing foot.

Aggressive?

You bet.

Make A Wish

11 - 11 - 11

I mean if you think about it.... Every day occurs just once in a century. Right? The next time it's 11/10/11 it will be in the year 2111. And the next time it will be 12/25/11 is 100 years from this Christmas as well.

Still, it's an awfully cool series of numbers to write at the top of a letter or date a check with. And if you buy into this vibration business it could mean for some crazy good comeuppance over the course of the day. I'm not gonna lie, I've attributed the flurry of activity I've had at work this morning to the mysticism, and I finally remembered to pack the $2 winning Massachusetts scratch ticket I've had on my desk for months in my wallet for my trip to Boston this weekend for the Chilly Half Marathon I'm running Sunday with my dad and my doctor roomie's dad.

I like the idea that

"we are currently transitioning into the 11th house of the zodiac—the age of the Aquarius. Progressive and intuitive, the sign rules technology, humanitarianism, philanthropy, nonconformity and idealism. According to astrological predictions, a wealth of new information will dominate the coming months."

especially if the unveiling of my book to a broader audience counts toward that wealth of new information.

It's almost ready!!

Close Friends

Featured link this morning brings you to a fashion blog:

http://www.newbrahmin.com/blog/2011/10/31/spotlight-intro-keep-me-close.html

Not really my style (let's be honest, I just act the part 40+ hours / week in the fashion & photography industries), but aside from the fact that I do know beautiful photography, styling and hair & makeup when I see it *special shout out to the ENNIS Artist who worked on this shoot,* I loved the bit in this blurb reflecting on close friends...

"There is an unsaid love between true friends that is often expressed in quiet moments. Longing for familiarity and comfort is a void that is filled by one another. This unsaid understanding between two people - that need to be close, is often overlooked when all is well with the world."

So true, right? And probably has something to do with how excited I was to email 24 of my closest friends from "home" (17 high school friends, and 7 of their spouses and significant others who we've adopted into the group at this point) about putting plans on the calendar for later this month when I and many of them will be in Boston for my favorite four or five days. All's well with the world, I still love me some qtime with that bunch.

Most wonderfuls

Huzzah!! November 1st!!

You'll be excited to know that I awoke this morning for a 7am All Saints' Day mass and promptly said aloud, "Rabbit Rabbit" before uttering anything else. This is how I know my prime is approaching, as to have remembered to do this TWICE on the first of the month in ONE YEAR, is practically unheard of (in the history of my life anyway).

Glorious sign of good things to come.

And on the subject of favorites (November is my favorite month!) I have some recommendations to share with you, my audience. Because I attended a talk on effective social networking, and the woman who gave it suggested making referrals that your blog readers / target audiences might need. And since that population's still sort of being assembled, I thought I'd drop a broad range of links below...

I have the most wonderful hair stylists is Manhattan:

Michael @ Devachan who cuts my curls

Rose @ Hair Farfalla who colors them

Sergi @ Blondies who straightens them periodically

My brother had the most wonderful wedding photographer in all of Massachusetts:

http://www.jennymoloney.com/

But I also think I've stumbled upon the most wonderful wedding photographer in San Francisco:

http://larkphotos.com

And happen to be friends with the most wonderful wedding photographer in LA:

http://www.ryanbethkephotography.com/

(When I am in the market for a NY Wedding photographer, I'll weigh in on the best in the biz in my own backyard)

Meanwhile, I also have the most wonderful time taking Improv classes and suggest anyone looking for a fun(ny) time in the city see shows at: http://newyork.ucbtheatre.com/

Am pretty sure the most wonderful cup of hot chocolate in Manhattan is not found at Serendipity but rather Corner Bakery on the Upper East Side.

And can say without a doubt that the most wonderful emails I could have received today were the ones notifying me that contributions have been made to my fundraising page for the marathon even without me having sent it around just yet: http://www.firstgiving.com/fundraiser/daniellenaugler/RunningforCover_Boston_2012

Hallowinners

Please be honest with me if the photos are getting to be too self-centric. I try to make them topical / random, but consider yourself forewarned what you're about to observe is the past 5 years worth of Naugaliscious Halloween conventions/costumes.

I share them as evidence of my theory that Halloween is really the most hit or miss of all of the holidays. Worse, I'd argue than New Year's Eve even, which people are always saying "lets them down."

I know of one person who is consistently a Hallowinner. He is pictured below as Little Miss Sunshine to my meager manifestation of MySpace. And he has also pulled off Janet Reno, a blue-haired plastic Troll, and a Wheaties Box in the past. He's tireless in his thoughtfulness as the holiday approaches, and he honestly hits it out of the park EVERY October.

However, I really think he's the rarity. Because for everyone else, it's win some, lose some. Cases in point:

2010 = WIN: Snooki as in "wanna smush mush?"

2009 = LOSE: some miserable sort of goth chick aka I was at war with the bugs

2008 = WIN: Buzzing around Boston as a Busty Bee

2007 = LOSE: Helpless Mess of a MySpace Page

2006 = WIN: Barbie - life in plastic, it's fantastic

And there you have it. Q.E.D. And moreover, my reasoning for sitting this year's festivities out. I hate losing.

Agent Speak

I just want to share a little of my "work" with you all...

A client asked if I had a document justifying the need for food styling services on a photo shoot.

And I replied:

"We don't have a go-to text we use to explain to clients why working with a food stylist is worth their while, but you might mention to them that the polish a stylist brings to a project is invaluable.  Food stylists are artists trained to know how food will be captured on film, so where a chef can prepare and plate a dish that is no-doubt delicious to behold in person, a food stylist brings to set the ability to insure that that appetizing nature of the dish translates into print or in motion on camera."

Or in other words, "how do you like them apples?"

Yes please

AN ASCARIUM?!?!! I love it.

I entertained the idea of throwing a party, I said yes to seeing a musical on the actual Monday Halloween falls on where you get a free drink if you come in costume, but without a doubt my plans for next weekend will incorporate a trip to the NY Aquarium.

I mean, aquarium...ascarium!!!!

That's jawsome.

Working Gal

My oldest dearest friend sent me this article from New York Magazine yesterday and I do believe I'd be remiss to not blast it out into the blogosphere for other 20something bloggers to stumble upon.

http://nymag.com/news/features/my-generation-2011-10/

Posted on the ol' fb today how I can hardly believe it's been 5 years since I first interviewed with the bosslady and started working for the Agency. Could never have known as a freshly graduated 21 year old business world fledgling how lucky I was to be landing a job. And not just any job but a cool one...in an artistic industry...which would support my being able to live the dream in NYC.

And I won't pretend I didn't cry many a Monday at my desk in Lexington, MA that first full year I spent repping, and I won't pretend I don't still harbor some resentment for the fact that I give 40 - 60 hours per week to the fostering and development of other people's artistic careers, but I am grateful to feel that my efforts are appreciated and rewarded whenever I see the direct results of my labor on their behalf.

I've heard it said that success is a combination of preparation, timing & luck, so I won't take or give credit to anyone in particular for the way this has all worked out. But I will express my gratitude for the opportunity and the security afforded to me.

And I will say my prayers for other 20somethings in search of anything from a paycheck to a full blown career that they have patience and faith and the sense to see when an open door is worth walking through.

"You're livin' the dream, sissy"

(Text message from my sorellina that made me smile an hour ago.) She sent it in response to my explaining how I was feline-esque, how "I was like, cats are bitchy so am I, I can do this!!" when I got asked to stay for a dance call back.

I forget sometimes that I am still very much living the dream, and then I remember when I'm high on having had a really great audition like the one I had tonight for CATS of all things (sidenote, remember how the joke on Caroline In the City was that Amy Pietz's character was stuck in the Broadway cast of CATS? I loved that show).

Anyway, I also forget sometimes that I am still a single white female in my 20 somethings living in NYC so I do less than brilliant things like run as the sun's setting along the Hudson River and end up wishing New York Naugs didn't insist on wearing all black even for fitness garb, but what can you do? Interestingly enough I felt impressively if not invincibly safe when this was the case Saturday afternoon/evening whereas tonight, I was actually sort of wishing I actually did carry around the pepper spray my uncle, the police officer, acquired for me when I moved to Manhattan, because walking back from the City Center to the White Plains train station in my black boot & dress audition get-up I got cat called (punnily enough) by a guy who went so far as to pull over to the side of the road in the car he was driving.

Now, here is where the story is slightly more comical than genuinely concerning. He was driving a white subaru forrester. Or something like that. A subaru something. And when first I heard him calling from the window any number of things along the lines of "hey girl, you got a boyfriend? can i getcho numbah?" I didn't bother to look or make much note, I simply walked across the long street in this industrial area that's between the mall where the theatre is and the train station, but then when I noticed his voice didn't carry off with the light turning green, I had to look up to see what I was dealing with. And well there you go, low and behold, whoever he was (and seriously I wonder, because what guys in White Plains drive white subaru forresters or outbacks or whatever - hippy's right? or sporty fathers? I would think? I mean, not your typical mouthy pick up truck or pimped out sedan driver, that's for sure), anyway, he idled on the side of the road almost confident that I was in fact going to walk up to his car and either take his number (which he was also offering in his banter) or give him mine.

And I wouldn't mind, but White Plains was virtually a ghost town by this point (9:30 or so) and the whole thing just felt less than safe to me. Albeit entertaining. Especially the part where I got cat calls after my CATS audition.

I ramble, but all of this to to say, three years into my adventuring in pursuit of the dream, I'm happy to feel like I'm moving forward, like the audition I gave tonight is leagues better than the ones I was giving upon my arrival to the city. When first I auditioned at the WPPAC in the Fall of '08 (I think for Little Night Music maybe?) with my then roomie, Lace, I realize, I was truly a Broadway Baby. We both were. We were also flat out clueless, and we got off the Metro North at the Harlem 125th St station on the way back to our apt thinking we were a mere 24 blocks from W 101st and Broadway and not realize we were clear across town about 10 (exceptionally long avenues to walk in audition heels) blocks East of where we thought we were.

Tonight, I also got off the Metro North at the Harlem 125th St station but with full knowledge that I could simply hop on the M60 for virtually door to door service to my humble abode in the Valley. And I'll note that even at nearing 10pm, as a single white 20 something girl, I still felt safer in this citAy than I did on my walk from the City Center in White Plains.

Meow for now.

Finally saw Blue Valentine

...

sub par.

i like ryan gosling better in lars and the real girl.

but i want to be as skinny as michelle williams.

remember when she was the curvy girl on dawson's?

Chiacchierona

This is Mazzola - he was / is the best Italian teacher. Ever.

And he taught me the best Italian word ever... even better than "traversiamo" which is I think the one Elizabeth Gilbert picks for herself as "her word" in Eat, Pray, Love because it means "we cross over together..."

Anyway, Mazz, used to call me (and subsequently taught me the meaning of the word): a chiacchierona, Italian for, chatterbox.

Good one, right? Look at all those c's! The ch's are pronounced like hard k's so it's phonetically key-ah-key-A-rona.

LOVE IT.

Anyway.

To date I have never met more of a chiacchierona than my current roomie is. And I bestow the title upon her so affectionately (obviously) because I knew Mazz always meant it lovingly.

BUT - I'm not going to lie. I cannot wait until she's left for Brooklyn tomorrow and the San Fran subletters are the roomies who remain. BECAUSE, I need total silence in this apartment for the next month and a half or two if I am going to finish the book.

And I am going to finish the book. Writer Naugs is in the house - as they say. So thank goodness the two of them can keep each other company in the "after work hours" - I've simply gotta lock myself in my room, tape my fingers to the keyboard, and crank this puppy out.

The priming is upon us!!

Facebook Cut Me Off

Seriously, I was on a commenting spree like no other. My mother just posted 185 new pics from the wedding weekend and I knew I had to stop before I drove peoples news feeds or tickers or whatever to drink, but I just COULDN'T until something short circuited, and now I haven't been able to sign back in for the past ten minutes or so, and I can only imagine this is the Universe saving me from myself.

SO what better to do than blog instead?

And share the following exciting tidbits:

1. I'm working on incorporating at least a half smile into my face at rest from now on because a boy in my Improv class asked me if everything was okay this evening, and it was, I had just been emotionless for a few minutes at the start of class, and it alarmed him.

2. I'm going to spontaneously add pictures to past blog posts so there'll be more images than captions on the little flip cards that you can opt to view in this new template - sue me now if they're sort of random and they're not always related to the topic of a given post.

3. I'm finishing the final draft of the book in the next 6 weeks. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it's a green one waving me onto the next phase which will be endless agent submissions, so let the secreting of the perfect agent begin and be as successful as the secreting of my handy dandy macbook pro this past Spring.

All I got.

OH! Other than this:

It's me and a fake hunting dog in the honeymoon suite where we partied after the rehearsal dinner last Friday night.

Katie Perry eat your heart out.

Wine Not

Have I mentioned that my roommate's moving to Brooklyn since she teaches out in Bedstye (sp?) now? Or that since she decided in late August not to move out until October she and I have had her subletters living in our living room since Labor Day Weekend?

Because. That happened / has been happening for going on six weeks now. (Move out date got pushed to Oct 15th, and I've accommodated mostly because I don't know how not to).

Tonight I offered a big bottle of wine for us all to share in celebration of surviving this situation though. And Saturday, some semblance of normalcy should be restored to my life.

Meanwhile. Would you look at these lovebirds?

and would you look at me making special friends with my sister in laws brother?

What a difference a day full of love makes, and what an even bigger difference a year full of coming to terms with ones younger brother being ready to take the leap makes.

I'm on board. 100%.

And not just cause the pressure from Boston and the grandparents at large is off, but because I believe in these two crazy kids. Born-to-be-a-bride-sister-in-law and ready-to-be-a-groom-baby-brother.

They're in it to win it.

I'll drink to that.

BACK!!!

And in the Full Fall / Sister Naugs Swing of things.... 6 days from my little bro's wedding in Mashpee, and a little more than 6 weeks from my 27th birthday.

27th birthday!!!! Can you believe it??

Prepare for me to be a chatty cathy in the days to come, as I patiently endured a month of silence on the blogosphere whence so rudely asked to remove a prior post. What is the blogosphere for if not the mentioning of whatever comings and goings, musings, and matters an individual feels compelled to share with an audience of anywhere from 1 to an infinite possible number of readers? But I digress.

So excited to celebrate young love and to simultaneously experience the complete removal of any and all pressure from my family in Boston to be wed or relationship bound after this coming weekend. 10 bucks, heck $100 says the only question that gets asked on repeat for the next year or three will be "when are you gonna have kids?" and will be directed at my baby bro and his bride to be.

I owe them a million bucks.

Trying a new template. Feeling like a fresh start.

Come on, Irene

Well if you can't beat'em join'em, I suppose.

I really thought we'd be fine with what I have in the pantry: beer, wine & rice, but just to be on the safe side, the BFF and I are heading down to West Side Market in a bit to stock up on perishables.

At least, that's what he keeps calling them, I think it's the non-perishables that we'd be better suited with, no?

Stay safe out there folks! Come on, Irene.

Here in my tower on the Upper Upper West Side, I feel safe & sound & so ready for you!

"I'm not lonely, I'm alone"

Although I don't know I think my blog might be a little lonely. I think it's time for me to do some social media networking in the blogosphere... 20SB, I'm on my way back to chat up my little chat forum here...

In anycase, took a dance class and did an hour of cardio at NYSC last night by Lincoln Center and decided I deserved a date night.

So I popped into the AMC to catch Anne Hathaway (who wow really is a doppelganger for one of my modmates from back in the day) and Jim Sturgess (who there's just something about that I love love love) in "One Day."

And shit kids, it's such an interesting little story they tell with that there film, and more importantly, I'm so happy that & Bridesmaids are the movies I saw solo vs. Blue Valentine which I've yet to sit through in full.

Bitter sweet.

Bracing for Irene's arrival this weekend. I haven't got a flashlight, but I'm thinking it probably wouldn't be the worst impulse buy.

T minus fifteen minutes

till I'm fast asleep.

Is there anything better than full 8 hour nights' rests?

This'll be my second in a row. Before Tuesday it'd been a while. And hosting visitors in NYC has its perks and is incredibly fun and rewarding, but its also downright exhausting.

Sunday Funday's 4 am arrival home to the Upper Upper West Side Monday morning took a titanic sized toll on me, so I'm still sort of recovering. Luckily I'll have dance classes Tues, Wed & Thurs to thank for detoxing my system.

But don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade having seen my sis and fellow Pikermier this weekend for anything in the World.

Um and holy smokes, speaking of half marathons, should I go ahead and sign up for this one below right now or what!?!?!

http://espnwwos.disney.go.com/events/rundisney/princess-half-marathon/

Oh Autumn in New York

On principal I try to not comment on or like my bff's statuses on the FB.

On principal, actually, probably more like out of spite. Mostly because I leave that sort of gesture to his fans and 4,000+ friends on the ol' social networking site.

But he posted quite a find with this link:

And I am so grateful to him for the way Ella and Louis' voices are mellowing me out this morning as I listen to these lyrics:

Autumn in New York
Why does it seem so exciting (inviting)
Autumn in New York
It spells the thrill of first-knighting

Shimmering clouds - glimmering crowds (glittering crowds and shimmering clouds)
In canyons of steel
They're making me feel - I'm home

It's autumn in New York
That brings a (the) promise of new love
Autumn in New York
Is often mingled with pain

Dreamers with empty hands
(They) All sigh for exotic lands

(But) It's autumn in New York
It's good to live it again

This autumn in New York
Transforms the slums into Mayfair
Autumn in New York
You'll need no castles in Spain

Lovers that bless the dark
On benches in Central Park

(But) It's autumn in New York
It's good to live it again

Changing the channel

I'm not much of a TV watcher.

Haven't been since high school really. Maybe even middle school.

I mean, I love sitcoms, don't get me wrong. I want to BE on one. I think I'm LIVING in one (take for example how the first person to view my marshmallow me featuring Xenadrine spot was - seemingly inevitably - my infamous ex) and I watch them and TV news magazines ranging from The Today Show to TMZ whenever the time of day allows on the cardio machines at the gym, but I don't watch anything regularly.

So tonight, it's not surprising to me that another handful of my friends will text/call/email to say they've spotted me sporting my light and dark blue bikinis at the Malibu mansion mid whatever programming they happen to be watching on Comedy Central, Lifetime, Bravo or MTV, but I've got my coil bound printouts of past drafts of The Book spread out on the table in my living room, and I'm outlining my next few months worth of work to be done on edits, agent research and proposal submissions.

Summer's over. Time to change the channel from actress/sister/friend to writer again.

Old people love me

Maybe it's my old soul that draws them in. They can tell I'm beyond my years.

Maybe it's the curly hair.

Something about curly hair says classic, timeless. Since the dawn of time people have been battling their botticelli locks (as they're deemed by the experts at Devachan).

I love that they love me though.

There's nothing sweeter than an elderly woman dressed all in old-world Greece style black skirt and sweater and straw hat, stopping by my table in Starbucks to say thank you again for making sure no one sat at the table she had procured for herself.

Delight.

Purged and poised

Speaking of feeling grateful for time in Boston, but more to the subject of being ready to be back in the city... I did Bikram Wednesday evening and made it through the Camel pose without wanting to vom.

THIS IS HUGE.

Apparently that pose is notorious for stirring up the inner sanctums of your stomach primarily with emotions and in the past two years when I've gone to do it there's been a serious block there, as in nope, sorry, no way jose, I'm just gonna go ahead and put myself in child's pose right now instead of trying to arch back and running the risk of wrenching forward to wretch.

So I am feeling fixed as it were, and ready to get back to action before Fall sneaks up on us. It's lovely to have had the option of staying in Cambridge for a couple more weeks, but my tower on the UUWS is calling my name. There's work to be done, and purged, I'm now poised to go do it.

5 mile turnaround

Last night my coworker asked me if I was running this morning, and I texted her back to say I was planning on a 5 mile turnaround at 7:45 if she wanted to join.

My favorite route by far to run from the Cambridge house is the 5 miler I do down to the BU bridge and back.

It's not really a loop though, it's a turnaround. And it doesn't matter what mood I set out from the house in for it, I go knowing full well it will have turned around somehow by the time I get back.

Wednesday AM for instance I left the house feeling foul and hating that my bff called me into Agent action with a ring at 8am about the web episode filming job he was assisting on that morning because he threatened my being able to finish my 5 miles in time to sneak in a shower before setting up at my desk, but then I returned floating on air and feeling like life was a song.

This morning I left light as a feather and in a mood I could hardly imagine getting better until I came upon a wonderful College friend crossing River St on my way back, and if a 5 minute catch up chat with an old pal can't make you feel fortunate for your time in Boston, I don't know what can.

On being a crazy bitch

unfortunately, it happens to the best of us.

"Frailty, thy name is," as they say, and accordingly incredibly strong and otherwise sensible, practical, intelligent and independent women fall prey to the crazy.

My poor doctor roomie is fending off a bout of it as she awaits a formal proposal from her bf of three years, my bff experienced mine first hand this morning when he called to talk work at 8am and threatened to disrupt my plan for the morning to fit in a 5 miler. I was not having his complaints about his work as an assistant to one of my star stylists in the citAy and I basically bit his head off through the phone.

Woops.

Sorry.

But, I'll tell you something, I'm watching "Gone With the Wind" in hour long increments, and I'll be damned if it doesn't make me feel better to be finding out that Scarlett O'Hara - easily one of the most famous heroines of the last century - was a bat shit crazy bitch.

My thoughts on being a crazy bitch are that it's simply not the worst thing in the world and at least we're one for all and all one for all.

My dad in a nutshell

Email he sent to our "running group" (comprised of me, my sister, my college roommate, her boyfriend, her dad, her sister, and her sister's boyfriend... we're all in it to finish it for Boston 2012)

Captain's Log 20110801:
Captain Naugler, Dad reported to starfleet command today for his first voyage. He was a little disappointed to discover that he had been classified as an Air Craft Carrier. It is his hope that by the time the official mission is run in April of 2012 that he will be in a smaller battle ship or perhaps even a PT Cruiser classification. With that being said, though, he felt the initial voyage was a success. He reported for duty with first officer 'Heat' and medical specialist 'Humidity'. Together his senior officers created an environment primed for a good workout. The mission led to several key pieces of intelligence:
- Captain Don has a lot to learn about running
- The route was just slightly more than 3 miles as prescribed by coach Jim and logistics officer Danielle
- A good job was done hydrating throughout the day, so there were no issues of overheating
- In contrast, however, the fuel consumption was not nearly as efficient. I was too quick out of the gate and had no concept of pace. As a result, the mission was a mix of jogging and walking. Even with the walking mixed in, the pace was too quick. We will work on that.
- Finally, to inaccurately paraphrase the notoriously quotable Yogi Bera, I discovered that jogging is 40% physical and 90% mental. Clearly I was lacking in the mental department.
Until next time, Captain Naugler, Dad. ;-)

Take me out to the Ball Game

HOW AMAZING IS THIS?

I am getting free tix to tonight's Sox game. And this is the 2nd time that's happened to me in a week! And this is after having wanted to go to a game for the past 3 years.

I mean. If this Summer isn't just full of pleasant surprises that are basically the bee's knees, I don't know what it is.

ehhhhh bOp

I've been to Idaho twice.

Idaho?

No, U da hoe.

No, seriously.

To Idaho, twice, for the Lionel Hampton Jazz Festival where I competed as a vocalist for BC bOp.

And while not overly trained or thoroughly studied in the art form with its standards, solos, scat and so on, I love it. So much.

So I spent the hours I sat in traffic on my way home from the Cape this evening listening to highlights from the American Songbook on a radio station I'm pretty sure only 70 year olds and Snowbirds know exists.

And it was so romantically lonely. But in the loveliest way.

Fasting Cardio meets the Fastest Moving Summer of All Time

SERIOUSLY

Did you know it's the last week in July??? The LAST WEEK IN JULY???

Wasn't it just the first week in July? Wasn't I just sitting on the west side highway in bumper to bumper traffic watching the wonder of 3D-effected fireworks from the back seat of the gypsy cab I'd hailed from the random street corner in Harlem I'd hopped out of my roomie doctor's sister's friend's car at on her way back to Long Island from where we were earlier that day in Delaware on Dewey Beach?

Perhaps this is the sort of thing that's making this Summer fly by. Weekend days that are endlessly long landing in the laps of weeks that fly by.

Whatever it is - it's all as much of a blur as my bout of AM Fasting Cardio was earlier today. A little 4 miler along the Charles at 8 that I can honestly hardly remember just four hours later.

Whoooosh....

Just a thought

how lucky am I to be "living" with two of my best friends, and to have done the same two summers ago?

"A friend," they say, "is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words"

This is never more true a case than for a chorus girl, which I've always said I am at heart.

Speaking of which, my heart may beat to the pulse of Manhattan, but I need only a night of nookness to remind me that my first love is my family and friends, and that "there is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered" (Nelson Mandel).

Part of why I love making the world feel smaller one trip around it at a time is that I know I have nothing but the best to come "home" to and "sometimes right back where you started from is where you belong."

Good night and God bless.

Skinny Girl Margarita Night

loosely translated means my best night of the Summer.

My sorrelina's on the BC campus getting oriented aka having the best weekend of her life, and my Walker St roommates and I are indulging in Cafe Kiraz frozen yogurts and nostalgia filled albums packing punches that could knock the sturdiest of nooksters off their feet.

My neighbor roomie just brought out her 4 fullest albums.

Amen. And thank you. And yep. It's a wonderful life.

Also

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8gbkQieakE&feature=related

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.

Annie Hall

My brother made me stop before finishing my sentence when I suggested I think I might be the female Woody Allen.

He said he would feel infinitely bad for me if that were true and that he'd worry I had bigger problems than he ever could have imagined.

I watched Annie Hall last night to study Diane Keaton's comedic skill set though and came to the conclusion that he basically just rambles thoughts right from his head to the page and calls it a script.

I'll have to do some research into what sort of open doorways he walked through on his way into the entertainment industry, but I'm glass half fulling the idea that if he can turn his ranting and raving into high box office ratings I really may be able to do the same sort of thing one day.

Nantucket Naugs vs. NY Naugs

Nantucket Naugs used to wait for the work day to end so the party could starty... New York Naugs waits for the work day to end so she can run along the Hudson River once it starts to get cool out after 6pm.

Nantucket Naugs scrambled to get tix from her Free Spirited Island friends to see Donavon Frankenreiter play the Chicken Box two Summers ago.

New York Naugs got ridiculously excited when she found out he was playing in Brooklyn tonight, and thought about rallying people to trek out there for the show which will of course be uber awesome, but she's most likely going to be on her second set of Romanian Deadlifts at the NYSC by the time D.F. starts his first set at the Bowl.

Sigh.

The end of an era

I made a fellow Nookgirl laugh out loud, lol as it were, today when I told her "HP at midnight + 3 drinks last night really f'd me up," and actually I'd chuckled to myself when I saw the fb status of my oldest friend/fave graphic designer from yesterday afternoon positing whether it negated how adult she felt to be going to a midnight movie premier when the film was Harry Potter Seven Part Two.

True Harry fans have really committed to that empire over the years. The LOTR trilogy produced some running times of epic proportions and thousands of pages for little fantasy readers to tear through, but JK Rowling engaged us all in a legit long term relationship.

People ask, are you sad it's the end?

And what else can we HP lovers say to them but "don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened."

13 posts to write in 16 days.

The heat is on Ms. Saigon.

Super 8

So I saw the new Spielberg/Abrams movie last night, and loved it loved it loved it. I mean, it was hardly the best movie I've ever seen, but the 5 or 6 main kids were so freaking cute and such lovable characters, and it harkened back to ET, and I was totally feeling the phone home message at the end and totally teary eyed, cause nothing gets me like a poignant and literally spoken moral. In this one's case: "bad things happen, but you can still live."

Amen adorable little Elliott of 2011.

Right? Other people have seen the way these main character couplings mirror each other I'm sure, but I felt pretty smart making the connection all on my own.

Anyway - recently brought to my attention was the concept of Saturn's Return. CHECK IT OUT. I mean, Drew Barrymore saw her prime approaching at 27 as well? Why am I not surprised. And today my UUWS Roomie's having a totally 25 year old day, so I sent her the link for My New Haircut in the attempt to brighten her June Gloom, since I know it always perked me up when I was in my mid-twenties funks a few years ago, but I mostly can do little but offer

assurance that oddly enough things do sort of have a way of working themselves out.

And I thank my well-read oldest friend for the timeliness of her sending this here New Yorker article and look forward to my little coffee date tomorrow and the arrival of my next big love in my life ... I foresee his arrival over the course of the wedding festivities I'll be in Boston for next week.

So much to squeeze in to this last of my June posts. Can't wait for July!

Signing off with a moment of zen brought to you below by one of the 8 Super sellers of frozen goodies on the streets of my Manhattan Valley neighborhood right now. From piragua to pinkberry, we've got refreshment on every corner it would seem.

(This guy is obviously a giant Rita's Italian Ice.)

June Gloom

Interesting (to me): I just did a little more backblogging and discovered I fell into a funk last year in late June as well.

People are so darn predictable.

And that's the best and the worst I suppose.

But in today's case, I'll go with the glass half full take and thank my lucky stars we're just over 3 days from July and all the contentness that traditionally comes with it to this Sister Friend Actress Writer Agent Nomad Princess.

This afternoon I was having an "I want to get out of the rat race and into a marriage moment" (a painstaking 4 or 5 hour long moment actually).

The onset was threefold: 1st I saw pics of my cousin's new unbelievably beautiful baby girl, felt a pang of maternal instinct for the first time in about 4 years, and had it occur to me I'm so far from that life yet that all it would take is going back to Boston to inevitably fall into it but I just can't, cause I don't wanna any time soon when I think of how much I still want to do out in the selfish world first; 2nd I checked in with my "people from home" about the bachelorette bbq we're throwing for the first Nook Girl to get married next week and realized that one of my most traveled and worldly friends will be a one-man woman for life in a matter of 10 days sort of freaked me out; 3rd I finally knew what the date was (some random man asked me outside of Symphony Space and I promptly replied "the 27th!") because it's my godfather and goofy brother (see pic below)'s birthday (but I have honestly thought it was June 17th for the past ten days straight as my jet lag from round 2 of shooting in LA left me literally time-warped Desmon on LOST style).

Am brain fried, and still adjusting to not being under the lock and key of the 4.5 month transformation, will have new goals for myself by the second week of July, and will figure out Summer projects once I've made my triumphant return to Cambridge for the month... in the mean time... I'm not in San Diego, but okay, why not? I'll go ahead and stay classy.

Oh hey guys

Here I am in Malibu, living if only for a moment, the life of a glamorous Hollywood star.

I'm wearing a fuzzy white robe over my cobalt blue bikini, glam eyes, big hair, and my nice flat stomach and shapely legs courtesy of the mystery product I was hired to endorse back when I was rather hefty at the beginning of the year.

The crew buzzing around the ex-bachelorette's mansion where we're on location filming today and tomorrow is ginormous. There's tons of PAs, and lighting folks, there's a director, an art director, 20 extras aka beautiful people who haven't needed the help of little blue pills to get them Hollywood Hill ready, hair & makeup artists and stylists who I only wish I could have subbed out for an all-ENNIS crew, but still, delights to work with...

The mountain we're atop is amazingly picturesque - this whole thing's surreal beyond means. I've been bitten for sure, eh?

(Our product is made in Canada so a big part of the creative and fitness coaching team is a contigency with the real deal accents).

Anyway - this post is on my recurring nomadic thought that were I ever to wind up homeless, mark my words, I'd make my way along Rte 66 all the way out to California. Because LA, even doomed with June Gloom, is one heck of a place to land.