Time Out New York
"Critic's Pick"
                                                   New York Times
"A well programmed night"
                                                                                                                     New York Daily News "Editor's Pick"

Nov 17, 2008


Step 1: Introduce yourself to "Gossip Girl" cast member.

Step 2: Immediately take photo while you're still considered sane.

Step 3: Find common ground to ignite conversation. Oh! You're Polish? I know a couple phrases...

Step 4: Rattle off your three known phrases (all very "a**" heavy):

A** hole!
Four legs in the bed, a sausage in the a**!
May a duck kick you in the a**!

Step 5: Wait for cast member's response:

Wow! Those aren't even normal phrases.

(You take this as a compliment, but are later informed that you kind of "creeped her out.")

Step 6: Go to after party and consume drinks on expense accounts.

Step 7: Chat online with father next day and mention the following:

I got into a little hot water yesterday.

Step 8: Realize you might have a slight problem when he quickly responds:

Oh no! Not the "four legs in the bed..."

Me and "Dorota" from "Gossip Girl"

Nov 7, 2008

The Gym: Part Two

Seeing as I hate working out, I try to find fitness formats that don't necessarily resemble exercise. The result: I take every dance class they offer at the gym. Unfortunately, the past couple of days these classes have been at night when I already have shows or rehearsals to go to. The solution: the treadmill. Mind you, I don't run on the treadmill--that would be "working out." I simply walk. Now, that may not sound exciting, and it's not. The exciting part is that every single treadmill has it's own flat screen, cable television attached to it. YES! TV! And coming from someone who doesn't own a TV, this is a big deal. On the treadmill I can get Comedy Central, bad Lifetime movies, Oprah--everything! I even extended my 40 minute walk another 30 minutes because I had to watch the end of Center Stage where young Jody tells the dance world to "shove it" because she's going to star in Cooper Nielson's new dance company. Take that, Peter Gallagher!

This concept really is genius! What better way to motivate couch potatoes than to put their fix right in front of their eyes and make them walk toward it. It's the proverbial carrot in front of the horse. Or a doughnut for a fat kid. Or a meth lab for an addict.

Maybe joining the gym is a good idea. I can get all the TV I want from 6am-11pm daily!

... Or maybe I should just walk more and save $200/month by getting cable in my apartment. Eh. It's a toss up.

TV's on the treadmill...BRILLIANT!

The Gym: Part One

Leslie has been given a free week-long guest pass to one of Manhattan's swankiest gyms. She has never been a member of any fitness establisment nor does she usually work out. Let's see what happens...

I am amazed at the education I am receiving in the women's locker room. Apparently, there are alot of unspoken rules: asking for someone else's preferred locker number--not okay. Standing in front of the wall mirror with one leg perched on the counter while you apply baby oil and give everyone a free vagina show--totally okay! In fact, I've learned alot about vaginas* this week.

As I only have my own potato to deal with, I didn't realize how many varieties of potatoes there really are: mashed, fried, boiled, groomed,'s amazing! And while it seems that another unspoken rule is to not look at other's potatoes, I choose to ignore this and blatantly stare. But seeing a potato in the locker room is one thing, seeing that same person outside the locker room after staring at their potato is quite another.

After putting my things in a locker that I was sure no one would want, I happened to see (this time not intentionally) a 60-something yr. old woman's potato. I quickly looked the other way and exited the locker room. Upon my arrival to the fourth floor (there are freakin' 6 floors of fitness fun here) I see 60 yr. old potato woman has beat me there by taking the elavator. I felt dirty. I felt ashamed. I felt embarrassed. Here is this sweet old woman getting ready to slowly pedal away on the stationary bike and all I can think is, "I know what your potato looks like." I equate the feeling to someone who runs into an ex-lover on the street and while they are exchanging pleasantries all they can think about is, "I remember that time you farted during sex. And I know about that ugly mole on your back."

So for the rest of the week I'm trying to keep my head down (or up?) and see as few potatoes as possible. Mainly for the selfish fact that I don't want to have awkard, post-sex feelings about elderly women.

*"Vaginas" will be referred to as "potatoes" for the rest of this blog just so I don't have to keep writing "vagina" a million times. Plus I like potatoes quite a bit more than vaginas so it makes perfect sense to me.

Nov 2, 2008

New Funny Not Slutty Post!

Head on over to to read the latest "Chick Chat," a transcribed conversation between two comedians. This month it's between myself and the lovely Ann Carr. We made sure to touch on the important things of life like Tori Amos, funerals, and brides who see weddings as performance opportunities. You don't want to miss it!