Remembering My Roots
September 20th, 2003Once upon a summer, I worked in a salon. That one there, actually. I got the job completely by random, my roommate at the time bought a shitty at-home highlight kit and ordered me to help her do it. When she went there to the salon to get a trim, the master stylist loved her hair and blahblahblah, I got a phone call and a job offer to come work as his assistant. I was currently on my summer break from college and working part-time @ Alphabets, and a salon sounded like fun, so I figured why not? and took the position. I got to work in this sleek creative atmosphere located in and of the oldest department stores in Manhattan, and I was working as an assistant to Myke Savage (pronounce that Sa-VAHGE). He was the youngest stylist on staff and pretty much fit into all the regular Hairstylist Stereotypes (flaming, fabulous, coke-addict), which kept him in constant collision with the Lord&Taylor Department Heads. But he was really good so they pretty much left him alone, even when he insisted that I come work for him regardless of the fact that I was inexperienced and unlicensed. Still one of the coolest jobs I ever had! Basically all I did was shampoo some heads, entertain the clients while they were being worked on, run to the deli to get Myke’s cigarettes, and stroll around the salon wearing black and looking pretty. Can I just say that I fucking CLEANED HOUSE on those tips, man! I turned on every southern charm I could muster. It was all about, “Did you need another coffee, Miss Rockerfeller? No? Ok. Ohhh is that $20 for ME? Thanks!” and “Here’s a new magazine for you, Mrs. Sloane. $50, really? Wow, thanks. Lemme get your coat!” Heh. Old Upper East Side crotchety women might be a boreass bitch, but they sure do tip well.
The only downside to my brief stint in the Grooming Industry was the dreaded task of having to get my eyebrows tweezed every week. It was in my hiring agreement that, as an employee on the salon’s main floor, I was to get regular haircuts/color, facial treatments, and eyebrow maintenance (all free of course). As a budding Metrosexual, this seemed fucking cool… I had no idea what kind of pain my poor little mug was in store for. I begat a bizaare, love/hate, S&M-type relationship with Marta, the big burly eyebrow specialist from the Ukriane. Every week I’d sit in her chair, head back, my fingers digging into the armchair pads as I’d scream out in pain. “SHUT UP, BOY!” she’d laugh, in her big scary man-voice as I writhed around squirming and trying hard not to cry. “Beauty is pain! And you’re eyebrows look like pussy!” Then she’d attack, jabbing those tweezers into my brow-ridge until I looked like a fucking drag queen. To this day, I cannot look at a pair of tweezers w/o rubbing my brow frantically and getting a little bit misty… and turned-on.
I ended up leaving that job after a few months. I got kinda bored and moved into the fun fun world of club promoting. It was all about moving onto the cooler, hipper scene at the time. Heh, glad I got over that pretentious little phase… (this is what sarcasm tastes like). But yeah. I’m not sure what made me think about all of that. Probably b/c I’ve been watching the Roseanne Marathon on Nick-At-Nite this weekend, and all of tonight’s eps are from that season when she worked in the salon sweeping floors. Damn, I loved that show.
I’m getting my hair did this week. Alas, it’s all about them (and not them) since my cashflow is mighty low these days. Ugh, poverty is a humbling little bitch.
Starry Eyed Suprise
September 17th, 2003I snagged a copy of Gotham Magazine from the concierge desk to flip through while I chowed down on my spagehtti during my lunchbreak: imagine my suprise when I spotted a little article on my buddy Pawel Szajda! I met Pawel a couple years ago @ NYSC, where I was working weekends @ the front desk, and we just started talking about stuff. He’d been some sort of National Ballroom Dance Champion in Poland or something and had just moved to NYC to break into acting. Anyway, we both ended up getting cast in The Emporer’s Club later that spring and so the friendship was forged. And I can’t tell you how much I relished being able to stroll up to him @ the gym and be all:
“So hey, what time is calltime tomorrow?”
“I don’t know, I think it’s 8am. I’ll find out and call you.”
“Cool. Which scene is it?”
“The Assembly. Either that or the paperfight again.”
“Ugh, that’s gonna be a long day, dude.”
“I know right?”
“Yeah…”
Heh. Oh yes, I was soaking it all up. 
He was actually in the movie a lot more than I was (you can see him in a lot of the classrooms scenes) but it was nice to have somebody around my age to hang around and grab some Starbucks with during the downtime. I sort of lost touch with him after awhile… Apparently, he’s become a star-on-the-verge, what with playing a major role in the upcoming Diane Lane movie Under Tuscan Sun and all. Not that I’m one bit suprised. Rock on, Pawel! Spread some of that spotlight this way ok?
No More I Owe You’s
September 16th, 2003I found out today that I’ve been losing a small fortune on my Metrocard for the past few months. Awhile back, I signed up for this Transitcheck thing through work, which deducts a certain amount from my paychecks and then presents me with a monthly unlimited Metrocard. Well, this only happened one month and then I never got another one, so I figured we stopped our account with them or something. I just started buying mine through the MTA ATM’s again, no big deal. Yeah, well… I found out today that the one Metrocard they sent me before? is ANNUAL. Unbeknownst (and unexplained, for that matter) to me, I was not supposed to throw it away at the end of that first month — b/c they fucking just keep auto-renewing it and continue deducting from my checks. What does this mean exactly? It means that for the past two months, I have been blowing twice the money on Metrocards: $70 a month through work, and $84 a month through my own stupidity. Guess I know where my money’s been going… They told me @ work that I basically am fucked, b/c regardless of the fact that I threw my Metrocard away, Transitcheck has been faithfully renewing that card for months and it’s not their fault that I didn’t realize the way it worked. I should have paid closer attn and noticed that I was still being charged for that shit, but since I get direct deposit I never pay attn to my pay stubs. DAMMIT. But whatever. I will STILL be marching my ass down to the Transitcheck offices tomorrow afternoon to see how big a ruckuss I need to raise in order to get some kind of reimbursement — and I mean INSTANT REFUND, cuz my landlord sort of hates it when the rent check says I Owe You.
Ugh, when I think about how much money I’ve wasted these last few months it makes me wanna punch myself in the face. 
I’m learing my lessons. Hardcore, man. Fucking hurts like bitch.
On the upside, I got an hour of overtime tonight — and will be getting 8hrs more of it this Friday, which’ll add some much-needed heft to my next check. My one-year anniversary @ Hudson is also coming up this month, and I know I’m supposed to be getting somee kind of raise after that, too. Good. Good. And work was actually smooth and fun tonight! It’s Fashion Week or something and the hotel is once again buzzing about with pretentious pretty ppl (none of them prettier or more pretentious than the Hudson staff, so no worries). The little fashionistas tend to keep to themselves for the most part, and make big presentations of being unimpressed by our hotel. It’s a fun little show but I’m not buying it. These are the same ppl who, later this weekend, will be calling up everyone they know on their cellphones to come meet them @ the hotel bar. Ohhh, what an entertaining week this will be… thank God I’ve got my co-workers to keep things light. They always make the bullshit a bit more bearable.
Saw a promo today for MTV’s Real World/Road Rules Challenge: The Gauntlet, the latest installment of my guiltiest TV pleasure. Um… meh. Despite what I hear, it doesn’t look terribley good or anything. This year’s cast sort of sucks, it’s like they picked all the lamest people from all the recent, lame seasons and just didn’t think about it at all. I will definately be tuning in, I’m sure. We’ll see, though…
Well, I am once again completely flabbergasted by Justin Timberlake. People, I don’t even know where to begin. In just a few months, I’ve gone from being annoyed with the boy, to lusting after the boy, then back to loathing the boy for his behavior @ the VMA’s, and am now back to loving him again. Why do you toy with me, Justin? His new single “Senorita” is slowly becoming a damn anthem, I saw the Details cover last week and had to sit the hell down and read the full article immediately, and then tonight he was on Ellen and just charmed the hell out of America. Damn this kid. I really don’t want to like him but I do. Dammit. I have no idea what it is, he’s just intriguing. I want his mojo, and I want for us to be buddies… buddies who shop together and bitch about how stupid ex-girlfriends are, and then we just “console” each other till the pain goes away. To me, that’s what a true friendship is all about. No questions asked, yknow? Friends in need, and whatnot.*
You should all take a few minutes to go read Jory. His blog is becoming something of a regular stop on my daily webwanderings and he’s definately worth reading. I love that he takes all of the pics on his site with the camera in his tiny cellphone.
Ohhh, so my oldschool cellphone, btw, is working like a charm. I just charge it @ night and it’s good for me for all the next day—and then some! Finally, some normalcy that actually makes me happy. My palm pilot is also all kinds of digital goodness, altho I must make it a point to put it away once the train has passed 125th Street. Three rounds into a heavy game of Tetris on the way home tonight, I looked up and realized I was straightup slumming in the Bronx. That’s just not good for ANYBODY, you know?
*(Ok, that shit? was TMI! I’m sorry. I promise never to subject you to innuendo like that again.)
No Matter What They Say
September 16th, 2003My Yahoo! Horroscope Alert today:
Taurus – Now you get fame and immunity. You’re beautiful when you believe in yourself.
My Yahoo! Inbox Alert:
You are using 89% of your 6.0MB limit. Get a bigger mailbox or your inbox will shut down!
I feel like I’ve been lied to.
Serious-like Things
September 15th, 2003I stood at the subway entrance staring @ this for about 10 minutes.
It was an actual plasma screen playing a TV ad. There were about 3 or 4 of them playing on a loop, really short ones. I was just immersed in the whole thing. I was standing on the street corner staring @ a commercial! When did they start this? I LOVE it! I swear, technology is just speeding along like nobody’s business. The day I see one of these things mounted onto a tree in Central Park is the day I’ll sing and dance like a maniac maaaaaniac through the streets of Manhattan.
I spent much of my afternoon on the phone and online, just sorting out some bills and doing serious-like things. I returned that big bag of clothes @ H&M today. The guy at the counter was like, “All of it?” and I just nodded and sobbed. I had to close my eyes on the way out, all of the pretty clothes were screaming after me, begging me to come back and buy them. I had to plug in my headphones and crank the shit out of Annie Lennox to drown it all out. “No More I Love You’s”, indeed… but it’s gonna put about $190 back into my checking and that’s what matters. I also dropped by Hudson on the way uptown and got my overtime shift back from my co-worker. I played it off like it was no big deal, like “I can totally take that shift back from you, by the way, cuz my plans fell through…”, but I know she totally saw the desperation in my eyes. It was so fucking embarassing.. but yu know what? We do what we have to do. Big wheel keeps on turning, Spriteboy keeps on burning. I’m lucky to have gotten that overtime this week, really, and I’m just glad my coworker was cool with giving it BACK to me. She rocks. The ppl @ Crunch were not as moved by my desperation, however, and are probably gonna make this whole Membership Cancellation thing much more difficult than it has to be. Bastards.
Walking around the city today really made me feel better. I wandered across the park this evening, enjoying the wet breeze, and dropped in on my trusty sidekick Randyboy, who recently escaped Queens obscurity and relocated to the Upper East Side. He was waiting for his laundry to dry, so I bummed around the hood with him for a bit. I always sort of assumed most of the area was dead and boring, full of office buildings and department stores… but it’s actually a really gorgeous part of town. Had fun with Randy, he always pulls me out of my head and helps me enjoy things on a broader level. Talking with my parents today helped too. It’s funny how your folks can just IRK you for weeks and weeks, and then out of nowhere, they can catch you on the phone in the middle of the worst time… and they just happen to say exactly everything you so needed to hear.
So, until my cash flow is better, I’ll be resorting to some straightup oldschool for all my cellular needs. This was the first cell that came with my plan and I totally forgot I had it till today. Still works, I’m charging it up right now. I also found my old palm pilot tonight, which I haven’t really used in like a year. I used to be so addicted to that thing! I just synced it up to my email Address Book and updated everything, downloaded some more new things on it too. I’m so glad I rediscovered it! With all the games and fun things I’ve got stored on there, my late subways rides home will be long but prosperous.
I’ve decided to hang onto my cable TV. My life would just be moot w/o it. If there is any indication that I’ve made the right choice, it’s gotta be The Ellen DeGenerous Show. That woman is fucking funny. Also, I’m really anxious to catch an episode of that new HBO show Carnivale. I missed the premiere on Sunday so I’ve gotta catch the rerun tomorrow.
On the homefront: my little sister was checking her upcoming work schedule @ the Wal-Mart Photo Lab recently, and under her name, she spotted a new addition to the staff. The new trainee’s name: Mary Cherry. 
I fucking love it.
Poverty Bites
September 14th, 2003I went to the ATM tonight during my lunchbreak and took out $20 for some McDonald’s. And for some reason, for the first time in forever, I actually LOOKED @ the reciept. 
. . 
. WHAAA?! No joke, man. Poverty has hit me like a BITCH, and NO I’m not doing that whole Dude-I’m-so-broke schtick that I see on all the damn blogs. My checking account balance has PLUMMETED since I looked at it last week and for the first time ever, I’m actually kinda nervous about making rent next month. Ugh, this is so not cool. I hit H&M with a motherfucking VENGANCE the other day, and now? I’ll be taking all of that cuteass gear BACK for a full refund. Words cannot express the pain this strikes in my heart. Everything that can go back will go back. I’m cancelling Netflix, cancelling online pay-site subscriptions (i.e. PORN), blocking my ability to use long distance, doing my damnest to weasel out of my gym membership, and holding on all plans to get a new cellphone. Ugh, it’s like I’m putting myself on a diet or something. And to make things even worse? I actually got scheduled overtime this week and I was annoyed that they put it on my sched w/o asking me first — SO I FUCKING GAVE IT AWAY! A moment too damn soon. Shit. SHIT.
This all just feels so fucking lame. I’d normally mask all of this stuff with flippant little jokes and random comments to show that it’s not that big a deal and that I know that life goes on… but ugh, man. It’s 4am and I’m thinking too much and it’s one of those nights. I won’t even front. I HATE MONEY.
In other embarassing news: I just found out that I’m never fully SEEN in “Mission: Idiot”. Like, seen up close. The director decided not to reveal my face or use any of my closeups (to sort of build up the whole absurdity of my character being such A PRESENCE), which I guess is cool b/c the film is doing really well at festivals right now and I hear that my scenes are really cracking the audiences up. This makes me happy b/c so much of what I did was vocal, I worked hard on the tone and talked in ways I NEVER do in real life, so it’s cool to me that it carried over well w/o having to see any of my gestures. But at the same time, it’s like, part of the point is to be seen, dammit! Ugh. Just kinda dissappointing.
I am fighting hard to stay on the high that I started today on. I actually had a great weekend. Caught Pirates of the Carribean with some of my dawgs the other night, which I really liked. Just made me giggle a lot. All the rain is totally making me happy and I also made some more muffins! Things are totally cool right now… they just feel shitty now that I’m all worried about money. I’ve prided myself on not ever worrying about it, on always having this sort of “cushion” sitting in my checking account. It only recently began to dawn on me that living alone and paying all the bills by myself while continuing to go to movies and eat out and buy things whenever I felt like it? sort of DEFLATES that cushion. Everything has caught up with me and I’m no longer ahead of things. And it SUCKS.
Don’t feel sorry for me. In fact, don’t even look @ me. No, for real. Just don’t. If you all liked me to begin with, you’d just start throwing stones RIGHT NOW.
Over The Edge
September 11th, 2003So, I spent the afternoon @ Hudson soaking up the latest corporate scheme that’s revolutionizing the service industry of Ian Schrager Hotels: the EDGE. Yes, dammit, that’s a witty acronym for providing an Engaging Dynamic Guest Experience. Heh, riiiiight. Actually, it went really well. I kind of enjoyed the 5hrs of team building excersizes, making cut-n-paste collages, and doing the role-playing stuff. It was fun! (Fear not, winners, I’ve not sold out to the Corporate Dark Side, I’d just much rather spend my afternoons playing games and getting paid for it, as opposed to standing around at the desk checking 1,000 ppl in).
Ohh, big big love to Clint for the Nokia tip. I’m looking into it, man, altho it breaks my heart to jump from the Motorola ship. Those bastards just make the coolest phones. So long, Moto.
Well, I had an amazingly smooth and groovy week. Finally got over my post-D.C. blues and hit a sweet NYC stride. For some reason, work wasn’t nearly as awful this week as I’d anticipated. I went out with some of my NYC dawgs last night afterwork, which was fun b/c I never do shit like that during the workweek. The 10th Ave Lounge is pretty kickass. I got to meet some new ppl and hang with a Randall. Woot! I also had me a nice little stroll uptown tonight, the weather was just so nice. I haven’t done that in I don’t know how long, man. It was great. Wandered into Tower Records and rented a few DVD’s (for some reason I keep forgetting to update my Netflix list). I’m home now. Windows wide open, spagehtti sauce is cooking on the stove, and I’ve got 18 episodes of Sex & the City Season 4 to watch. Tomorrow is my day off and I plan to just bum around all I can. I’m gonna sleep in late, have lunch there, and spend all day long wandering Soho and stocking up on my H&M gear. It’s supposed to rain, too. Hard! All Weekend! I can’t hardly wait.
There’s a big article on Metrosexuals in the new issue of Details. There’s another one in Metro Source. Just an FYI.
You know, I have to say I’m proud of myself for having a good time at the workshop today. Most of the things they talked about were not actually jabs at our lack of work ethic, but merely constructive tips on how to add more to it. They showed us video clips of Mr. Schrager himself, reading from his private journal and talking about his goals and visions for his properties when he first began opening them. Basically, he’s over the whole cool, hip, Studio 54-feel and wants us to be nicer. And apparently? once this whole “new approach to service” is fully implemented, we’ll have much more freedom to make final decisions w/o having to consult a manager everytime a problem arises — officially. That both frightens and excites me all at once. I actually walked out of the board room with a pleasant smile on my face and a tiny little bit of pride in what I do. As much as I bitch about it (and as much reason as I have to do so), there are definate times when I honestly do love my job. I literally spend my evenings standing in the center of it all, where music pounds through the lobby and gorgeous ppl wander around pretending not to be impressed by what they see. Occassionally I deal with cool people, sometimes I even have a good time. Hell, I’m basically paid to smile and be atmosphere — what’s there to complain about? And despite the bullshit? I like getting to interact with hundreds of total strangers every day. Of course, I’ll probably take this all back in a few days when I’m OVER IT, and I’ll curse the fucking EDGE for all the lies it told me. But for now let’s just indulge me. 
It was September 11th today. Unlike last year, I hardly thought about it at all. Life just keeps going. And while the city lives on, I’m glad that Aaron posted this.
* their menu, btw? fucking cracks my shit up.
Mixing Up My Life
September 10th, 2003I was stuck in the backoffice @ work last night when my bud Ben from Concierge stopped by to let me know “some tall guy” stopped in looking for me. I began browsing my mental rolodex for all the tall ppl I know… basically everyone is taller than me, dammit so I had no clue who it was. “He had to go,” Ben explained, “but he left this for you”. Plopped down a red transulcent cd case — and in it, a mixed CD! Then I checked my messages. It was from P!
I love the CD. I make them SO often for ppl and I never get any in return, so this just fucking made my night. Sorry, I missed you, P! You’re CD is gorgeous and it makes me all kinds of happy. I know what it means. 
I checked Amy Grant and her band into the hotel last night. It took all of my strength not to laugh in her face and start screaming, “Harlot! Sinner! Rubbish! Filth! Slime! Muck! Boo! Boooooooo!” I totally remember when she “departed” from Christian Pop Music. God, we miss her.