Body Clock Breakdown Thursday, November 21, 2002

Jessica "Jolie" Alba checked into Hudson the other night!!!  She and her Lips stopped by the desk on her way out for the evening and asked if I could get her suite cleaned.  I was like, "Absolutely. Wanna makeout with me?"  She didn't think it was funny.  So, lately my job has been hard on me, energy-wise.  I work late, get home late, stay up late, sleep in late, and then go back to work.  It sounds kind of low-key but it's actually really grueling.  Today I woke up around 3pm just completely trashed and wrecked, I didn't even know what day it was.  It's so weird.  No drinking or drugs here, just plain old exhaustion.  I sleep in such sporadic patterns... BJ has begun to check my breath with a mirror every morning on his way out to work.  It's only gonna get weirder, I think, b/c they just put me on the overnight shift.  For 2 nights a week, all next month, I'll be working that bigass front desk all by myself from 11pm - 7am.  I'm not too thrilled about it.   Supposed to only be a temporary thing, and everybody says it's a really quiet, boring, slow shift so I'm hoping they're right.  I'm praying that there won't be tons of drunken ppl stumbling up to me @ 4am wanting me to change their foreign currency or anything... ugh.  I really want it to just be DEAD so that I can stand around play online and just practice my Christoper Walken "Weapon of Choice" dance in the lobby while nobody's watching. 

Oh, a word to the wise: if you're ever strolling through Chelsea and decide to get a haircut, find something sharp and stab yourself in the eye with it, then go see a doctor right away and get it treated.  Ok, so you probably don't need to go to such extremes but maybe the overall trama and hassle will keep you from getting your hair cut.  I actually did stop by some little w.23rd street salon tonight and soon found that despite what you ask for, they only know how to do ONE hairstyle: the gay sailor. The little Panamanian woman cutting my hair was determined to give me this cut no matter how clearly I expressed not wanting anything resembling that god-awful look.  You know the one --- super-short sides, tapered in the back, and a little gayflip @ the bangs?  I repeatedly had to smack her in the head b/c she kept reaching for those BUZZ CLIPPERS.  I was all, "Not the clippers, Blanca!  Not the clippers!"  So she basically just did with scissors what she would have done with clippers and now I look like a miniature Robbie Williams.  Sneaky little vixen.  I'm afriad I'm going to have to hunt her down now... poor thing, she sort of reminded me of my mom.  So if any of you see me in this very gay, very Chelsea-boy coif, just do me a favor and pretend not to even notice the fact that I look like TinTin.

The Emporer's Club comes out tomorrow and I can't wait to see it!  The previews look really good, I think.  I'm curious to see how much of what I shot actually made it into the final cut. There's one scene that I'm pretty sure I got really good screentime in, it's the scene where Kevin Kline is all old and has just been fired from his long-time job @ the school.  He's walking down the hallway with his box of stuff and he passes me, a new young student, and he looks @ me and I look @ him and smile, and he nods @ me, and then we both just pass each other and keep walking.  There's more stuff too but I'm pretty sure they kept that one in.  Who knows.  My mom, dad, sister, and Godmother back in Texas are all going to see it and they're going to scream out loud anytime they spot me onscreen.  My mom also informed me that if I end up being cut out of the film, she and all 8 of Mexican sisters are going to storm Hollywood and beat Kevin Kline's ass.  Awww!

My room, by the way?  Total mess.  I have dishes laying around from like, 2 weeks ago that I just have been too lazy to clean.  BJ and his Cute Girlfriend piled on my futon tonight to watch TV with me (I was feeling strangely social and kind), so I had to shove everything under my bed and behind the sofa.  So my room kind of looks deceptively clean and I'm starting to think maybe if I just leave it all this way it might actually be clean for real.  Denial is a game you can play all by yourself, kids. 

 

 

** BTW, Jax? I love you too! **

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