I gave the office my 2-weeks notice this morning, and can I just say that I believe it was possibly the greatest moment of my corporate existance.  It just went so very well.  I was smooth and smiley and sincere, I could have been channeling a Cosby kid.  I explained that I was very happy there (heh) but that this new job is offering not only new opportunities but higher pay, as well as benefits and a flexible schedule for acting.  They completely understood my position. I offered to stay just beyond my 2 weeks, until Maria gets back from her vacation — they liked that. It was incredible.  Okay maybe it’s not Rave-worthy, but I was just amazed at how great the whole thing went.

Quitting can be fun!  Whoo-hoo!

I’ve come to realize that my attention-addiction is simply out of control.  Last night I walked with my GorgeousRoommate to the grocery store down the street and, of course, every eye was on her.  I actually reached over and grabbed her hand to suck up some of her spotlight.  She just smiled.  Probably actually thinking, “How sweet, your completely harmless, puny ass is trying to protect me from the neighborhood thuglets. Awwww.  What a little runt.” 

I start evening training @ Hudson tomorrow night.  I’m sort of nervous as hell.  They want to start me off in the Reservations Dept, so I’ll get a grip on the check-in system or someshit.  Whatever.  When do i get to wear the black clothes and stand up front?!  That’s all that matters!  No, really, I plan to give this job everything I’ve got.  It’s still sort of a shock that I actually have it now, I seemed to wait on it forever.  I’ve realized that I cannot take this thing too lightly.  I stopped in on Saturday afternoon to meet with the managers and fill out some paperwork, everybody kept remarking how Jax had totally raved and raved on about me, how she totally put her credentials on the line and vouched for my hire.  Wow.    What a buddy.  That’s all kinds of amazing to me, I don’t even kow what to say…  I won’t let you down, Jax.  Thank you.

M&J just got back from the Magic Kingdom for their 4yr anniversary.  I love it that they went to the Disneyland for that shit, it’s just too cute.  Too bad Disneyland couldn’t be someplace cool like New York or something, can you imagine what that’d be like?  It’d be so damn Brooklyn.  Mickey Mouse would have like, a guido swagger and a permanent five o’clock shadow.  Tigger would be a full-out West Village Queen and Tinkerbell would be a little puerto rican chola with a bleached out perm.  Scary world, kids.  Right so anyway, they had a really great time and I’m glad they’re back b/c I missed them.  We went to see “Moonlit Mile” the other day and, after having recently viewed “Igby Goes Down” (in which the non-Macaulay kid didn’t suck too much), we have all agreed that Susan Surandon is the shit.  I actually got to meet her once.  My buddy Damien was doing her makeup for some bigass PETA event that she was hosting and I tagged along.  She’s pretty little, really damn sexy though.  I also met Alan Cumming, who I just hated on site.  That little cockney whore is a fucking evil leprachaun, and nothing you will ever say shall convince me otherwise.  Didn’t he just write a book?  Great, now I can hate him in an entirely new form of media.  *sigh*  Again, the whole attention-jealousy-spotlight thing…  must work on this.

So this past weekend I hungout with my new playfriend Marko.  What a workout!  Nothing like that, you nasty little bastards (although…)!  We just seemed to walk EVERYWHERE, I was exhausted by the end of the night.  We walked around Soho forever, up the dark, slick, empty streets of the city late at night… it was so sickenly “RENT.”  Fun though.  That kid cracks my shit up, with his little busted kneecap.  He was just hobbling everywhere.  We bar-hopped through most of Alphabet City, which I usually refuse to do.   Once the streets stop using numbers and begin going by single letters, I sort of lose my sense of direction.  Also, I don’t much reach for “the drink” (with these Mexican/Irish roots, I think it best not to unlock Pandora’s box) so a bar is not my scene — much less, a bar full of pretentious, trend-sucking, trust-funded NYU scum.  Ok, I admit, I was just jealous,,, damn these gay men and their fucking awesome accessories!!!  So while my cute, new friend kicked back his beers (all incognito, so as not to be spotted by anybody from AA!), I chugged down some Evian and just snarked on everybody to pass the time.  Marko is a sassy little hair colorist and therefore an elitist snob, so between the two of us, not a single soul was spared.  But seriously, the bar-hopping?  It took so much out of me.  I wish i were cooler, but I just can’t hang.  Please just ignore me as I shamefully embrace my inner yuppie and chill @ Starbucks.  Hell, the Coconut Cream Frappacinno? that’s my baby momma.

** Marko, I think I found your dislocated kneecap. Some homeless man was sitting in front of the ATM this morning chewing on it, or I think he was maybe just playing with it. Not sure. Anyway, i punched him in the neck and took it away.  Page me. **

Metrosexuality has just been busting through the seams of this little dork lately.  I have been so wired and juiced up, somehow defying the social order of the universe and actually getting my game on.  What prompted this boost in my mojo?  I don’t really know.  Either people have dropped their standards to a staggering low, or I have just hit a nice groove and somehow managed to not look so freakishly short and strange all the time.  Whatever.  I never question this shit, I just go with it and see what happens.  Yes, I’m opting for the Jordan Catalano “Whatever happens happens” school of thought.  Just relax and have a good time, no need to over-think it all.  I need to quit wasting so much time, anyway, trying to make everything in real life match what happens in Spriteboy World (you know, the inner world where TV show of my life takes place).  Hell, I’m having FUN.  I know, dudes, it shocks and astounds me too.

Does this entire post seem a little vague and general?  Yeah I planned it that way, you little pervs!  This ain’t no red shoe diary.

I met up with some friends last night (don’t be all impressed, I have to pay them to hangout with me) @ The Gin Mill, this old uptown bar on Amsterdam Ave.  The Upper West Side, Amsterdam Ave in particular, is like, the haven of drunken yuppies in Manhattan.  Kids with names like Tricia and Kurt who are a little too intimidated by the freaks and punks on Lower East Side.  There is beer everywhere — hell, the freakin’ bakerys sell beer.  I swear, you’d think we’d see more of Ben Affleck up in those parts (oh wait, he did rehab, and now he’s addicted sex with to J-Lo — hope he’s wearing a condom, that’s all I’m gonna say).  Okay, topic.  So we’re there to see this comedy showcase that one of my friends from college is performing in.  Jo is absolutely hilarious, she’s done stints with various comedy troupes and slapstick shows and has been doing this shit almost as soon as we all graduated.  I’ve been promising for about 2 years to come to one of her shows and so last night I just set the VCR to record “Will & Grace” and strolled my ass on down to support and show some love. 

The showcase  was called “The Rob & Mark Show” and featured about 5 different acts.  I love to sit and judge people, it’s just so much fun to do.  However, last night was not about judgement and snarking @ all b/c I ended up laughing so damn hard at nearly everything that I think I annoyed people.  I don’t know what my deal was, I guess I was just in the mood to laugh.  Either that or I’m just really lame and think anything is funny.  Jo, of course, cracked my shit up with her impression of a girl auditioning for Tisch School of the Arts by means of dramatic monologue/interpretive dance.  Rob & Mark were awesome.  . They performed so many funny songs and parodied so many people, including a power-ballad tribute to Corey Haime and Corey Feldman (”the Coreys”), a melancholy Irish tune called “No Meat in Belfast,” and selected songs from the yet-to-be-produced musical stage production of The Karate Kid.  I was just rolling.  If you guys are ever up for it, go see them @ the Gin Mill sometime, cover was only $5 and no 2-drink minimum!!!  The fact that they don’t have their own variety show yet is just a damn shame.

Just as I was getting ready to start a new Rant about work, things took a whole different upswing and suprised me.  For the past 9 months or so, things have been really tense between my supervisor and I.  It’s a bigass boring tale or woe, melancholy, office politics, bruised egos, and things taken personally.  I won’t bore you.  Bottom line: it’s been ugly and so yesterday, she and I “took a meeting” and talked this shit out.  She was like, “When you’re done, can I see you for a minute in the conference room?”  My heart just sank and I was all, “Oh hell… what now?”  But it actually went suprisingly well.  The lack of communication between us had really started to create this wall of tension, and that’s not good when yu share a cubicle with somebody 10 hours a day.  In the end, we met @ a good place and were able to end things contructively,  It was so simple and clear, once we addressed the issue it sort of immediately became a non-issue.  Always good when that can happen.  Makes me feel stupid for not just saying something about it months ago.  The real irony of all this is that I’m actually giving them my 2-week notice on Monday.  Guess what, kids…

I got the job @ HUDSON!!!  Whoo-hoo!!!    They called me in Wednesday afternoon for a third interview with yet an entirely different person, which went really well considering how shamelessly sly and cool I was acting.  You have to understand that when i go to these interviews I do not go as myself.  They’re not interested in seeing a neurotic 23 year old nerd who’s going (alone) to see the new Reese Witherspoon movie this weekend.  They want to interview a primpy, groomed, well-gelled little twit who doesn’t mind standing @ a the front desk and charging people money.  Good thing I can do that.  Hee.  I’m meeting with them tomorrow afternoon to go over paperwork and my training schedule.  Yayy!

Even better news: I’m getting off (heh) from work early today!  Later, winners.

I was @ Supercuts today, getting hooked up by my girl Luz (which, BTW, is spanish for “Light.” I know you don’t care but quirky stuff like that just never ceases to amuse me).  The only shit to read was the new YM and Avril Lavine was on the cover.  It’s appalling, I know — the scarier part is that I actually read the feature on her.  *sigh*  Where do I even begin???.  What a stupid, stupid little girl.  I’m sorry, but if you dropped out of high school @ 16 to become a TRL-sewer rat I just cannot bring myself to take you or any of your shit seriously.  The little canadian hag comes across as so annoying and into herself, especially brags and brags about how hated she was by pretty girls in school and how cool she was because she carried a skateboard and how mad wicked she is b/c threw M&M’s @ the teacher in class…  Oh how punk!  You SO ROCK, Avril!  And you’re so pretty — but not in a popular way, more like in a rebellious way, which is like, sooooo much cooler!!!  Do you have a posse?  Can I be in your posse?  Oh wait.  That’s right you’re NOT punk!  You’re just a bony little beanpole with way too many (undeserved) music award nominations.  That song, “Complicated” sounds like a filler track on some Alvin & the Chipmunks album.  Also, stop wearing sweatsocks as gloves.  Oh, and if I see you in another white wifebeater-and-skater-pants outfit, I’m going to cry.  You look like the youngest Hanson brother, but with smaller boobs.  

I know, I’m just being mean now…  Avril, I really think you and I should just leave each other alone for awhile.  You should probably go hide in some god-forsaken place that I’ll never ever step foot in, like Canada.  Or Jersey. You’re everything I hope my little sister never wants to be.  Your voice makes me want to beat my face against sharp rocks and then hurl myself @ you.  My only fear is that they’d play your CD on a loop @ the after-party following my burial.

Today marks my fourth year of living in New york City.  Hee.  Feels kinda cool.

So I’m making a decision today to regain some Structure in my life.  I haven’t really allowed much routine or pattern into my life in so long, and I think that’s partly why I tend to feel so detatched from what goes around me so much of the time.  Things like to-do lists, bed time, eating properly, grocery day, laundry day, schedules, punctuality… I don’t know, I guess I’ve always sort of viewed them as lame things to keep track of.  Just tools for uptight people who just don’t know how to live and let live.  They’re for nerds!  They’re for little suburban imports who like to call themselves citykids but still need those grassroots-habits in order to function.  Hah!  Fools!  Yeah well, the sad truth is, I think I’m one of them too (although my ass is from inner-city Houston, not “Pleasantville”—and don’t you forget it).

The real deal here is, the fact that I don’t keep up with anything important in my life is kind of stupid.  So that’s gonna be a new priority.  Drop some of this pretentious, non-commital, open-ended nonsense and start keeping track of my shit.  Take a little more ownership of what I do with my time.  We’ll call this little step towards constructive planning ”Mission: Sell-Out.”  I’m sure I’ll abondon all this clarity soon so don’t hold your breath. 

I’ll keep you posted. 

We all grew up watching and loving Full House.  Oh sure, now we all wish Bob Saget would die and that John Stamos would get the helloff the Broadway stage and stop trying to top Alan Cumming… but a few years ago, we just adored the Tanner family.  In particular, we adored “Michelle,” that disturbingly cute little misfit played by toddler twins Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. Since the show’s demise these two little bitches have created an entire empire in cartoons, live action, video games, tv sitcoms, movies, comic books, dolls, paperbacks, cassettes, magazines, lunchboxes, and their own clothing and acessory lines.  This is a legacy that continues to grow and will one day outlive us all.  These little bitches are the faces of evil.  Think I’m kidding?  The following is a transcript, taken down from a secretly recorded conversation @ their estate.

*****

Mary-Kate:  Hey Ash, I was thinking that instead of desiging our outfits for the VMA’s? we could just buy the clothes we want in an adult size @ the mall and have our tailor cut it down to size for us.  That way we can pass it off as our own design and not have to do any work. You know, just like we do with our Wal-Mart line?
Ashley:  Good idea.  Ohmigod, I can’t wait. We are so going to paint the town pink!  Do you think we can meet J-Lo?
MK: I don’t care who we see as long as Saget stays the hell away from us.
A: Saget the faggot.  Hee!  Remember when we used to call him that, Ash?
MK: No, you’re Ash, remember? Where’s the nametag I made you?
A: I think I left it @ Ja Rule’s crib last night. 
MK: What were you doing there?
A: Just keeping it real.
MK: You’re such an ass.  Hey, where are our slaves?  Are they wearing the belly tees we designed?
A: No they said they didn’t wanna.
MK: Did you kill them?
A: Yes, and their families.  They’ve all been “elimnated.”  But I spared Paco, cuz like, we need our pool cleaned.
MK: We totally do.  Good looking out.
A: Thanks, Ash.
MK: No, you’re Ash, remember?  I’m Mary-Kate.  God, bitch.
A: Ooops sorry, I guess that’s why you got the emmy nom.  Hey, are the Brewer twins coming over later with the heroin?  I need a fix, and a good fuck.
MK: Ohmigod!  The Brewer twins are so cute!  Well, they were, before we put them to work in our oil fields.  Now they’re just kind of blackened.
A: I wish we knew more black guys.  Oh wait, Tyson is black.  He’s the one who feeds us grapes and opium.  Can we fuck him?
MK: No, we can’t date black dudes, remember?  Our manager said that’s not our key demographic.  But then again, most of our key deomgraphic is dead.  Hey where is Tyson anyway?
A: He said something about killing himself.  Whatever.  Fuck, where the hell is Paco?  I’m gonna beat his wetback ass if he doesn’t get me a Capri Sun!
MK: Ash, you sound so street!  I don’t know what to do with that.
A: I know, I’ve been watching UPN.  I’m bored.  When can we take over the world?
MK: Soon.  But first we have to orchaestrate our mass media global takeover.  The operations in Budapest and Southeast Asia are still in the works.  Be patient, we’re still worth 84 gazillion bajillion dollars.
A: True dat, Mary-K-Nizzle.  Oh hey whatever happened to mom and dad?
MK: I have them making shoes in the basement.  And stop using ebonics.  You’re supposed to be the cutsey one.
A: I’m sick of being the cutsey one.  When can I be the slut?
MK: Neither of us can be the slut.. in public.
A: I play a lesbian in a new indie movie called “Interests of Herrod.”  I have a fisting scene with Michelle Rodriguez.  That bitch was rank, yo!
MK: Ash, you are pushing it with your language.  That is not “Michelle” talk!
A: Fuck Michelle.  Oh wait, I do.  In the movie.  Hee.  Hey, which one am I again?
MK: That’s it, Ashley.  You’ve gone too far.  I was always worried I was going to have to do this…
A: Ohmigod!  Who’s that?!
MK: Ashley, meet Amber.  She’s your replacement.  You’ve been “relocated.”
A: She looks just like me!  I’ve always wanted a twin!!!
MK: *sigh* Paco, take Ashley to the chamber!
A: Watch your back around her, Amber!  This bitch will cut you.
MK: Go to hell!  Come on, Amber.  We have work to do.

******

It’s true, guys.  I swear.  We cannot trust these girls.  Beware of the Olsen twins.  I repreat:  BEWARE OF THE OLSEN TWINS.

**  Big Big Love to my boy Poly, a fellow insomniac who’s late-night wit and clever banter spawned this insane post. **

These Skittles “Taste the Rainbow” commercials are just too cool.  The overcast skies and the rolling green fields and the ethnic-peppered community… it’s just insanely gorgeous.  I love it, I want it as a print on my mousepad.  Can I be in one?  I’d like to play a forrest sprite or something that lives in a rock. Yeah, like the ever-youthful keeper of the skittles.  And I want that ambigious asian voice that goes, “Skeeetles, t-t-t-t-taaayyyyste tha rrrrainbow.”

I wanna know where exactly are these mystic realms of the world, where goregeous women and rugged men walk around with unicorns and climb oak trees all day.  Must be somewhere in Montana.

I just saw a preview for the new season premiere of Charmed.  Tonight, Alyssa Milano (who has been dead to me ever since that Tony Danza show went off the air) becomes a mermaid.  She becomes a fucking mermaid, with a tail and fins and glittery pasties.  No, I’m serious.  What the hell has happened to the WB?  Somebody explain this mess to me.  I freaking loved this network for about 2 years and then it all went to shit.  The beginning of the end, I think, was when they cancelled Popular (the funniest show on TV).  Also, Felicty started to suck, Dawson left the creek and it became The Joey Potter Show, and then they hung themselves by dropping Buffy from the network.  It’s a cruel world, or @ least it is when you’re like me and have no life and watch way too much TV.

Though I have never watched a full episode of Charmed, I can already see that the cast sucks.  You know Shannon Dougherty was the only one of these fools with any damn sense b/c after a couple of seasons she dropped that shit like it was covered in Anthrax.  She was like, “You know what?  Hells no.  I still have a few good years left in this body until the mothership comes for me, I’m getting out.  Fuck you, Aaron Spelling, and stay the hell away from my family.”  Hi, Rose McGowan?  The fact that they cast you to replace Shannon Dougherty should tell you this is a ship sinking fast.  They just turned your buddy Alyssa, there, into a damn mermaid.  Are you gonna argue with me about this?  Run.  Run fast and don’t look behind you.

However, hope floats in the form of two fresh-faced hotties, b/c it weren’t for my deep and disturbing crushes on both Kristen Kreuk and Tom Welling, I would not watch this network @ all.  Salvation, thy name is Smallville.