Do I wake or sleep?

I want to say this is the nicest way possible--now that this jet's been found, can we PLEASE air some actual NEWS? Literally every single time in the last two weeks that I've turned to CNN, they've been covering this story. Every. Single. Time. Every time. For two weeks. I get that it's a fascinating story for you guys but come the fuck ON. We're not at the brink of nuclear war--there are no international ramifications for this. But there IS another important story that I DO want to hear about--Russia, Crimea and Ukraine. Can we please hear something about that?

Also Vogue has jumped the shark. Kim K. is bad enough--I don't hate her but I really, really don't get why she's so famous. She's not really pretty IMO, she has no discernible talent, she does nothing but promote herself. But Kanye West is just nastay--thin-skinned and obnoxious and just ugh. Go AWAY. Vogue should be reserved for fashion icons or actual, genuine, talented celebrities, not nasty man-children who whine to Anna Wintour about how their ladyfriend "deserves" a cover. Anna can deny that story all she likes but it sounds just like him--because otherwise it makes no sense that they were given a cover. Neither of them have any fashion cred. I used to subscribe and have thought about picking that back up but not if that creep is going to be on the cover.

Alert! Alert!

Betsey Johnson, which is going out of business (mostly), has SLASHED their prices--both in stores and online! I'm picking up an adorbs green snake print miniskirt and some cute lil' black hose.



HOW CUTE IS THIS?!

Be ye warned, the website is really wonky. I had to call them directly to place the order, then their software at the customer call center is also wonky, and I ended up going online after all, It took me awhile finally to get the order through but it was worth it because it's BETSEY MOTHERFUCKING JOHNSON.

That is all.

Last night Christine, our producer for Macbeth, had a fundraiser/benefit for the show at the Irish Rogue. I had such a great time--to start off, Duncan gave me an AMAZING (late) birthday present...a bottle of pumpkin-infused VODKA!!! That he'd made himself! I was absolutely thrilled--can't wait to try to make Pumpkin Alexanders or something else equally amazing with that! Seriously, one of the best presents I've ever gotten. I'm always so impressed with good gift-givers--Rachel is another good gift-giver, she has exquisite taste for one thing. Intimidatingly good taste. My friend Ashley is another.

Anyway, so that made me very happy. The entertainment was a series of acts, mostly musical except the first was a VERY strange conceptual comedy act that did not go over at all. I felt kind of bad for the girl--I think something like that plays better in a dedicated environment (like a comedy club or a nightclub), rather than a long room in a bar with people crossing back and forth, talking, playing pool, etc. Anyway, Duncan also performed, and I read a poem ("Death of a Naturalist," by Seamus Heaney). I actually wasn't too thrilled with my reading of it--I'm not sure what didn't quite work, just that I felt like I was yelling or something--but I got several compliments so as long as someone liked it, it's all good. One performing duo was also a little off--our sound designer and his wife performed a couple of songs in...some kind of costume. He was dressed as a pimp but I'm not sure what she was, and they sang some kind of song about being a "criminal." Hmm. But there was another duo who sang Lionel Richie's "Hello" as a tribute to Glee and their harmony was great!

But best of all--they had a raffle, and guess who's the proud owner of a NEW COACH SCARF? ME, that's who! I'd bought several tickets and had missed the 3-day membership at Chelsea Sports by just one digit. Then when they started to read off the winning number for the Coach scarf I crossed my fingers and everything else, and Duncan pointed to me and said "if I win this, you're getting it." AND THEN THEY READ MY NUMBER!!!!!! I literally squealed aloud and danced up to Christine--it was like winning Miss America!

Who's the proud owner of a brand new cashmere Coach scarf?

ME, that's who!

Then to top it off, one of the performers had been involved with the Planet Connections Festival and pulled me aside and said some very nice things indeed about my performance as Puck. Terribly sweet--she said she'd "voted for [me] and everything." I love delayed compliments.

I have to say, I'm really liking Christine. She's the producer and she's also playing Lady M. So far I've been very happy with her leadership and she's such a non-diva--we taped the voiceovers for the apparition and she voiced Apparition #3 (the one about "til Birnam Wood come to Dunsinane"). Andrew asked if I had any feedback, and I talked to her about the stuff in Shakespeare's Advice to the Players. She LOVED it, really welcomed the feedback and then later on texted me for the name of the book. It's such a great book, so helpful.

Really, the only disappointing thing about the evening was that I never got to play any pool!

I watched Elizabeth's DVD of The Devil Wears Prada the other day. Interestingly, it's one movie that's actually much better than the book, which I found interesting but not well-written. Meryl Streep and Anne Hathaway do exceptional work and really flesh out Miranda and Andrea's relationship nicely. It's much more dimensional than in the book. I also like the plot changes here and there they've made, especially when Andrea goes to Paris instead of Emily--it's actually part of Andrea's character development instead of just a lucky accident. Loved her relationship with Nigel--I especially liked his scolding her that "so many girls would die to work here whereas you only deign to work here." Loved Miranda's monologue on Fashion Trickle-Down, and the opening montage where you see all these young women dressing for the day--armoring themselves, really, dressing well is a form of offense/defense. And thank goodness they took out the Lily melodrama subplot--as much as I would've liked Tracie's part to be bigger, I found it annoying that her addiction problems were supposed to be Andrea's fault. I like Andrea making her choice in the end for her own reasons, and not because her roommate is that messed up. (I find it impossible to believe when someone's in Paris on a business trip, that her whole family and her BF would be lecturing her on why she MUST come home to help her friend--why can't one of them go? Especially if it meant losing her job.)

However it's ludicrous that Anne Hathaway would be considered fat there--she isn't any heavier than Emily Blount and it's annoying that the movie insists this, or that we're supposed to think that Emily is thinner in the second half of the movie. If they're going to try to push this, they should've padded AH and asked Emily Blount to lose weight for those scenes. Also, the guy who plays Christian looks at least ten years older than AH and it comes off as kind of sleazy, especially when they're in Paris together. He just doesn't have much charm, not the way the character in the book has. Another odd thing is--I get that Andrea is supposed to be clueless to fashion in the beginning, but would she really dress *that* sloppily for a job interview, or for her first day of work? No wonder everyone sneered at her--that looks disrespectful.

Late Friday I took the train home for the holiday weekend. If you're going to be on the train for longer than a couple of hours, the Acela is really nice (although not particularly cheap). They have a quiet car which is soooo relaxing--no cell phones, no music, no noisy anybody allowed. The whole train looks so much nicer and the trays are bigger. I'd bought a magazine and The Other Boleyn Girl (a great read but boy, did she take some liberties!) and I was enjoying the ride very much until Philadelphia when this really weird older man got on and sat next to me. For a good 25 minutes this man kept standing up, sitting down, fussing, opening up his luggage, closing up his luggage, sitting down, standing up...just fussing, fussing, fussing. Dude--it's the QUIET car. People really want things to be quiet and still. No one wants to notice you. And he kept looking at me and trying to talk and then muttering to himself. I had my headphones on so I could at least give the appearance of being in my own world. Then at one point he tapped me on my shoulder so I was forced to talk to him."Yes?" "Grump grump grump...I'm...uh...going to get as horizontal as possible." WhatEVER! "Uh...sure." Then after all that he did nothing! Just sat there, still pushing papers on his tray and looking over at me. I swear, women can back me up--there is always some weird guy out there who can't stand it that you don't acknowledge him. It's the stranger who points at you and orders you to smile on the sidewalk, or when you're in a hurry, the guy who tries to get in your way. Or the friend of a friend who thinks you're cute and gets all bitter because you don't know he exists.

Anyway, so I had two and a half glorious days in Virginia. Mom and I went to the pool (she belongs to this neighborhood pool association) Saturday and roasted for a little while. I was gobbling up The Other Boleyn Girl--good gossipy beach fiction for the fan of historical trash--and eventually we went back and cooked out in the backyard. Mom's yard is very lush, with many different kinds of trees--dogwood, oak, holly, white pin--and other kinds of flora. Sooo peaceful and shady and verdant. We watched the DVD of Kingdom of Heaven later--again, fun but definitely took some historical liberties.

Sunday we went to see the Nats kick the crap out of the Dodgers. Hoo-ey! Good times. Mom was so cute--what she knows of baseball, she learned from watching me and my explaining the finer points of the game to her. So she wasn't a hardcore fan but was very proud that DC finally got a team again. When we got back home, she brought the sports page into my room, talking about how the Nats have been doing lately, noting that they'd lost to the Dodgers the day before. The thought of my mother reading the sports page and trending the home team is pretty funny.

Yesterday I slept very late, and then we got up and had a wonderfully appropriate Memorial Day. There was a parade in Falls Church, and vendors and food booths. (I snagged a Coach Scribble bag--like this but in a multi-color print, with tags and a dustbag!) We walked around the parade--sadly I didn't see any of my classmates from Mason although I know a bunch of them still live in the area. One of the booths was for the Falls Church Presbyterian Church, and they had an exhibit about their ongoing work in New Orleans. I talked to them about the possibility of volunteering--I definitely want to go for a week down there and I'm on the Habitat for Humanity mailing list for just such an opportunity. I said "I live in New York and I'm an Episcopalian so I don't know if you'd be interested..." The woman gave me a couple of email addresses of people to contact.

After that we went back to Mom's place, she got some flowers from her garden, and went over to Arlington Cemetery where my grandparents are buried. I think the last time I saw Grandpa John's grave was when Memaw died in 1999--I remember visiting as a child, and we saw the Kennedys' grave and I remember the "Baby Girl" grave, the miscarriage that Jackie had in the late '50s. (I was weirdly interested in dead Presidential children at that age--Willy Lincoln fascinated me as well.) It's such a beautiful resting place, on this hilly, grassy knoll, surrounded by trees, "below the Mason-Dixon line, which would make Daddy happy" as Mom said. I looked around and noticed some high-rollers nearby--a major-general, a rear admiral, a vice admiral. One was from Alabama--that would also make him happy (Grandpa John was from Birmingham).

BTW, I was veryvery bad yesterday. On the way to the LES Tenement Museum, I was SUCKED INTO a cute little shop called tutu. They sold clothes. In particular, they had this adorable number in orange, with pretty red striping down the side. It's a smokin' hot dress, very tight and with whisper-thin material. A perfect lil' summer dress. And it'll look so good on me with a tan.

And yet. I've self-imposed a clothes embargo that cannot be lifted until I move into a bigger apartment. I simply have no room left.

[small voice]Iboughtthedress.[/small voice] *hangs head in shame*

Pierrot, an orange summer dress! I cannot live without an orange summer dress!

Apropos of very little, I hate my body sometimes. Yuck. Blech. Urg. How can something that's supposed to be good for you make you feel so disgustingly fat?

I'm seeing an apartment tomorrow on 48th Street. It sounds cute but I have a few worries. I'm nervous about leaving the lease early and possibly pissing off Milt, even if Janna can come in early. Also, I don't know if the apartment is rent-stabilized, and then there's that big broker's fee. But it sounds like a nice place--courtyard, two windows--and it's in my beloved Hell's Kitchen.

The Three's Company movie last night was really good. God, I love the '70s. Mid-to-late '70s, man, that's my era. All those beautiful colors, where fashion showed off a woman's body, and people relished the decadent.