Hedwig - Love Thyself

I saw the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch many years ago, and the story resonated so deeply with me, I’ve carried it with me for years.  While I haven’t seen it in quite some time, I listen to its music on a daily basis.  When I heard the stage version was coming to Broadway, and with NPH starring to boot, it was a no brainer that I was going to be there.

I’ve seen the show twice now, and I would go back again and again if I could.  It starts with a bang and is so in your face and flashy and loud, and by the end, everything is stripped away and vulnerable.  The show is loud, quiet, flashy, simple, crude, beautiful, hilarious, serious…so many juxtapositions.

While I can’t personally relate to what it’s like to be a young gay male in East Berlin who was sexually abused and later had a boxed sex change operation to be able to legally marry and escape Communism, it’s easy to relate to feeling different.  It’s easy to relate to the fear of not being accepted….feeling shame when there is nothing to be ashamed of.  Not fitting in.  I can see myself in Hedwig.  I think by the end, everyone can see themselves in Hedwig, no matter what you may have thought of her in the beginning.  At the end of the show, when all the flash is stripped away and you see the REAL Hedwig, I can see myself up there.  My vulnerable self that just wants to be me….accepted or not.

It’s no secret that I am completely insecure.  I’m sure there are people that probably think, she must be a lesbian or something otherwise she would have a boyfriend or have been married by now.  So what’s the problem?  The problem is that I can’t accept me.  Or rather, I can’t accept that another person would accept me for me.  I’m not the prettiest girl.  I’m not the skinniest girl.  I feel at extremes.  I’m quirky.  And physically, there are things I just don’t like about myself…that I’m embarrassed about.  When I watch Hedwig, I get it.  I understand.  The message of the show…Be Yourself.  Don’t be ashamed to be yourself.

I’m actually a very happy person, let’s make that clear.  I live a wonderful life with amazing friends and amazingly supportive and loving parents.  I’m alone when I want to be alone and I have awesome people around me when I want to get out and have fun.  I have a roof over my head and food on my table.  I’ve gotten to travel lately and indulge regularly in my theatre addiction.  Life is great…..I just need to love my physical self so that I can allow someone else to love me too.

I wish the message of Hedwig could reach further audiences.  I have no doubt that many people will hear what it’s about and see pictures of Neil Patrick Harris in drag and say, this is not for me…no, thanks.  And that’s a shame.  That’s a shame because it’s so much more than a guy in drag.  I wish people could get past that fear of what they think is different, because they would realize that we are really all the same.  There is nothing wrong with being different.  There is nothing wrong with being unique.

I’m fittingly watching a girl on So You Think You Can Dance as I type this.  She’s a beautiful young girl who suffered from an eating disorder at age 16.  She never thought she was good enough and was just scared of what other people thought.  Now she’s healthy and happy and back to doing what she loves….dance.  As she was starting her audition, Christina Applegate whispered, “I hate it.  Just, being a girl.  It’s hard.”  Well it is hard being a girl.  It’s hard being a gay man or woman.  It’s hard being handicapped.  It’s just hard being different.  It’s hard being yourself when there are just so many people filled with irrational judgments.  Or what’s even worse, us fearing judgment from people when it doesn’t even exist.  It’s a mental game.

“Rain falls hard
Burns dry
A dream
Or a song
That hits you so hard
Filling you up
And suddenly gone
Breath Feel Love
Give Free
Know in you soul
Like your blood knows the way
From you heart to your brain
Know that you're whole
And you're shining
Like the brightest star
A transmission
On the midnight radio
And you're spinning
Like a 45
Ballerina
Dancing to your rock and roll
Here's to Patti
And Tina
And Yoko
Aretha
And Nona
And Nico
And me
And all the strange rock and rollers
You know you're doing all right
So hold on to each other
You gotta hold on tonight
And you're shining
Like the brightest stars
A transmission
On the midnight radio
And you're spinning
Your new 45's
All the misfits and the losers
Yeah, you know you're rock and rollers
Spinning to your rock and roll
Lift up your hands”

 - Midnight Radio Lyrics from Hedwig

2010: The Year of Sorrow, Envy, and Tears

Envy: Best defined as an emotion that "occurs when a person lacks another's (perceived) superior quality, achievement, or possession and either desires it or wishes that the other lacked it."

Sorrow: Deep distress, sadness, or regret especially for the loss of someone or something loved.

I’ve been meaning to get all this out for a while now but never seem to be in the right head space to do so at the right time. In short, 2010 was a year I would like to forget for far too many reasons, basically from beginning right on through to the end. Let’s set to the scene for January 2010. I was working at my first ‘real’ job and had been there just short of a year. I was basically promoted (just not given the office, title, or salary) and loving my job and my boss. On the personal side, we were watching my grandmother rapidly decline after suffering for YEARS from Alzheimer’s. It actually shoots back to November of 2009, when we got a call on Thanksgiving morning that she was being taking to the ER. She did seem to recover after that, quite well actually, until early February when things changed for the worse.

February 2010: My grandmother’s health continues to decline. It becomes quickly apparent that she will not be with us much longer. In the meantime, at work, the only boss I ever truly enjoyed working for and loved as a person, was let go. Not really a big deal in the grand scheme of life, but it changed my work life entirely. Work life is now temporarily in limbo. Last trip to the nursing home, I know that will be the last time I ever see my grandmother. Tears are shed not realizing quite how bad she was, up until that point most of the news regarding her failing health had come via email. Looking at her was like déjà vu of when I saw her sister in the hospital a few years ago right before she died. She was clearly suffering and straining to breath, all the while not knowing what was going on due to her dementia. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been. I prayed every night to my grandfather to please come and take her home. A few short days later she passed away peacefully with her son by her side. She was my last remaining grandparent. I had lost my grandfather back when I was in middle school and my other grandmother in my early 20’s. I understand how blessed I was to have them in my life at all, let alone for as long as I did, but that doesn’t make it any easier when you lose them. This particular grandmother I was extremely close with. She lived behind us growing up and I talked with her every day on the phone as a child if I didn’t see her in person. She always came shopping with us. In middle school I would walk to her apartment and we would hang out. We would watch tennis together, talk about the Giants, play Kings in the Corner…. She was a HUGE presence in my life. Most importantly, she was one person who I knew was and would always be proud of me no matter what, even if I wasn’t proud of myself. And she would tell me so. She often told me too how proud she was of me. A grandparent is a cheerleader, a supporter, a babysitter, a teacher, and an overall source of unending love. Losing my grandmother left a huge hole in my heart and I knew it was going to be a long road back up for a lot of us. In addition to my grief, I had to watch some of the strongest people I know lose control of their emotions. I had to watch some of the strongest people I know cry who I had Never seen cry before.

February 2010 ended with my 30^th birthday, a birthday I had been dreading as I thought it was the year I would officially be ‘old’. It ended up being one of the best and worst birthdays to date. I enjoyed an amazing time with both my family and friends, but at the end of the day, my birthday is something that I share with my grandmother and I had done so since birthday #1. It was hard to not have her there with me (even if she hadn’t really been with me for years). Every year when our birthdays come around, which are 2 days apart, I will drink to her and all the amazing things she has done for me. I still miss her every day.

March 2010: The family is still mourning the loss of our matriarch and work has gone from limbo to shit with the addition of a new boss. My parents get a phone call from a cousin we hadn’t heard from in way too many years. My Uncle Ralph was in heart failure. My father and I went to see him in the nursing home. I don’t think he realized who I was, but I believe he could tell my father was there. He took my father’s hand, unable to speak, but they had a moment none the less. Being in the nursing home reminded me of all the sad times and also the funny times at my grandmother’s nursing home. At a certain point we learned to laugh at the situation. Laughter is a survival mechanism and it keeps you going. If you are able to laugh at yourself or the situation, you’ll no doubt be ok in the long run. We stayed for a while by his bedside and left, again, just as the prior month, knowing this would be the last time I would be seeing Ralph. Ralph was my favorite of all my father’s aunts and uncles. He was my grandfather’s brother and for some reason I just had a magnetic pull toward him every time I saw him. I loved him dearly through the years whether he was in my life or not. His death led to a slew of regrets which I am still struggling with and working to rectify In the future. Your family is your family, we are only here on earth for a short time. We need to make time for them; it’s selfish otherwise.

March 2010 also was the month that forever changed my friendships, old and new. It took 30 years but I had the first ‘fight’ if you even wanna call it that. Not to dive deep in to this one, but it left me scarred and slightly untrusting and fearful in relationships from that point forward. The month did end on a stressful but happy note as I got to give me new boss a big FU. Exactly as I had laid out I would love for it to happen, I was officially promoted, given an office and a pathetic raise, and I gave my notice a week later to move back to a job I had been trying to get back to for years.

April 2010: A relatively uneventful month that ended with the burial of my grandmother. She was being buried in NY State and they were unable to dig in to the ground until the winter months were over. It was an overwhelming trip to say the least. Lots of emotions, lots of family I hadn’t seen in years, and one very final goodbye.

May 2010: Uncle Bill’s Party! The family gathered together for a beautiful party to celebrate the 96 years of Uncle Bill. They did so at 96 because they knew it would most likely be the last, and sadly it would be. It was great to reconnect with cousins I hadn’t seen in years, but again, you can’t help but feel full of regret. Bill and Joan lived in Kearny, less than an hour away. Why did I never stop over for a visit or make plans to have a nice dinner and talk and catch up? At the end of the party I watched Bill’s remaining sisters say goodbye to him. I watched my Aunt Mae in particular say goodbye to her brother. It was so horribly sad watching this as Mae knew it would be the last time she would see Bill. Little did I know that would also be the last time I would see Mae.

June 2010: June started out as a good month for me. I saw Paula Deen and the new Giants stadium. By this point I had rekindled some old friendships at the new/old job and found and developed some wonderful new ones. Hung out with the posse in Philly, went to the Tony rehearsal with my mom, and ended the month with a posse trip to the beach. The day we were set to head for the beach we got word that one of our college mates had lost her short battle with cancer. Short of her 30^th birthday, Caroline was the first person that had died, that was my age and shared many of the same passions as me. It was the first time I saw death as being ageless and nondiscriminatory. Beautiful Caroline lost her battle on June 25.

July 2010: A few short weeks later, on July 9^th, Uncle Bill passed away. While this was extremely sad for everyone, it was actually one of the first wakes I kind of enjoyed attending. Saying that out loud kind of seems inappropriate but what I mean by that is that Uncle Bill lived an amazing 96 years! He was one of the happiest men I ever knew who was filled with such energy and love. It was more of a celebration of his life than anything else. Out of this tragedy came a newfound friendship with cousins I hadn’t seen since we were all kids…and little kids at that. I can only hope that these friendships live on for a long time.

August 2010: August 23^rd, my Uncle Ralph’s beautiful wife Phyllis passed away. Suffering from dementia at the end and afflicted by what I am sure was a broken heart, she passed away 5 short months after her beloved husband. My poor cousin Joanne has lost both her parents and her children their grandparents. I am only grateful that I had the courage to go and speak to her at the repast as it would be my last chance to do so.

September 2010: September 10^th, my Aunt Mae lost her battle with cancer. I drove down the shore with my mother and entered the funeral home not recognizing anyone. Again, the regrets come rushing back. Why do I not know any of my own aunt’s family? Why do I not recognize my own cousins? Are they all looking at me and wondering who I am and why I’m there? All these deaths and all these regrets!

October/November 2010: I think October is when I started my own personal decent in to the world of depression. Not that “I wanna kill myself” people need to worry kind of depression, just overall sadness and discontent with my life. I was hoping to be moved in to a fabulous apartment by Oct 1^st and that didn’t happen and I fear at this rate I won’t find a place for quite some time. The search, while it may not seem like a big deal, to me represents the huge and unnecessary detour I took in my life leaving me behind where I wanted to be at this point. Sadly, with the economy and times the way they are, I know plenty of people my age who are living at home. It’s not that I’m ashamed or embarrassed, but it’s my time to go. I’m craving the independence and the privacy and the decorating! I want my own space to call my own. So, not the worst thing in the world not being able to find an apartment, but it’s annoying to say the least.

This is where the envy comes in to play. I have been ‘alone’ my whole life. I thought, because a damn psychic told me, that I would be married at 26. Not that I ever really wanted that big wedding with 400 people in attendance because that is so far from what I want….But, I do want to be married and I do want kids, that I have always craved. It seems as if this year, at least half of my facebook friends had babies. And while I am extremely happy for each and every one of them, it kills me every time I hear that another friend is pregnant. When you tell people a little of how you feel, you get the same response, “You’ll have them when it’s the right time.” Or “It’ll happen for you.” Unless you are looking in to a crystal ball, what you are saying is a bunch of bullshit in an attempt to comfort me and it only makes things worse. It’s been building up and getting worse to the point where I have a hard time listening to anyone talk about their kids. Especially when it becomes the “My life meant nothing until I had kids.” Or “Being a mother is the best thing that ever happened to me.” While I’m sure that is true, every time I hear it, and again, I am happy for these people, but I feel like a piece of me dies and I plunge deeper and deeper in to despair for lack of a better word.

On top of that, I have become equally as envious of those in “happy” and “perfect” relationships; any relationship for that matter. While I used to think I would be perfectly content raising a baby on my own (which is nowhere near financially feasible for me anyway), I don’t think I feel that way anymore. The reason for this change is two-fold. Two of my chronically single friends are now in relationships. And not just relationships, but extremely lovey dovey insanely happy perfect relationships which I have no doubt will end in marriage. I am now left the only single girl and all these people talk about are their significant others. Part two of this is that I met a man that makes me believe there actually are good guys out there, something that I have seriously doubted in the past. I’ve seen now how strong love can be, how amazing some people can be, how kind and generous they can be, and that some guys Will stand by you through better or worse. Seeing that this ‘ideal man’ exists makes me want to find one of my own. If they are indeed out there, and maybe one that will love ME unconditionally, why would I not want that? I imagine they are few and far between, but I have hope that someone is out there for me. I can recognize that my lack of love for myself and especially my body is to blame for why I have always been alone. You can’t love someone else until you love yourself or something like that anyway. I’m working on it but it seems to be backfiring at this point in time.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. It’s honestly a wonder that people even want to be around me these days, although with the exception of my co-workers, none of my friends even have a clue about any of this. I told people today that I should just become an asshole and give up completely on caring about anything. Nice girls don’t get anywhere anyway, they only get shit on and taken advantage of. And while the latter may be true, I don’t want to become the miserable cranky bitch I feel like I’m slowly becoming. I’m usually a kind person and it’s killing me that I can’t stop acting this way. The worst part is that I feel like I am being the bitchiest to the one person that seems to care the most. It’s because this person represents that “ideal man” I mentioned before. The one that I didn’t think existed until now. He just reminds me of what I now know I do want, but fear. I AM an asshole, or I wouldn’t be acting this way, but it stems from envy. There is a reason that envy is one of the 7 deadly sins. Doesn’t make sense to act poorly to the one person that is actually trying to help.

November 30^th my cousin Tori lost her battle with cancer. In many ways I always releated to Tori even though I didn’t know her well. The most I spoke with her was coincidentally at my grandmother’s wake earlier this year. I don’t want to wait too long to let love in to my life and then lose it like Tori and Craig sadly did.

I recognize I have a lot of work to do on myself. I have hopes for the future that it will be brighter. Stop living in regret but make an effort to prevent it in the future, stop living full of sorrow but remember all the beautiful times you shared and live a life that would make your lost loved ones proud, and stop living in a world of hate, fear and envy and learn to love yourself or it will be impossible to love someone else and for them to love you in return.

I’m looking forward to 2011. I have shed more tears this year than in all the years past and I need to put the tears behind me. Onward and upward to a more positive and beautiful future. I am the only one in the way here. It’s going to be a very tough road, but this is the fork and I need to choose the road toward happiness.

3:1

The other day, within 3 hours I received 3 messages via 3 different forms of communication informing me that 3 women of 3 different generations had 3 different types of terminal cancer. 3 women, 3 generations, one thing in common….cancer.

To this point, my life has been rather unaffected by cancer. Many of my relatives have been diagnosed and beaten it, mostly before I was old enough to truly understand their situation or the true horror of what cancer has the potential to do. When it’s not in your immediate sights, I don’t think you can really understand what it does and how many people are affected by one diagnosis. I was certainly one of those people. As time goes on, I am losing more and more people in my life. As terrifying as that may be, and being something I have always struggled with, it’s an inevitability. We are all gonna face death one day and I can only hope that something even better lies ahead. Tragically however, life isn’t as peaceful or lengthy for some people.

For reasons only known to God I guess, some people’s lives are tragically cut short, some suffering for years. I can easily see why people turn away from faith. Why the hell would an All Loving God create so much suffering in the world??? Just turn on the news and you’ll here about countless murders, mother nature taking out thousands within seconds, disease upon disease taking lives left and right…..

My outlook on life has been grim of late. How can you hear about these 3 beautiful women and not feel…..just so angry…..sad….confused….and full of so much empathy. It feels somewhat insensitive to go on with your contented life knowing full well what these women will be going through for the next few months. What right do I have to be happy when these women are suffering? How can I plan my future when theirs have been taken away? How selfish it seems to complain about having to clean or do laundry or not be able to afford the latest technology. It just seems wrong. I am angry that this disease is taking lives, I am sad for these women and their families and friends and quite honestly, I am terrified that that will be me someday.

We have cancer walks, beneifts, drives…but still no cure. We have made progress, but I think we all pray for the day that the cure is found. Cancer is taking the lives of these 3 women and millions more. One of these women is my age; a life literally cut before it’s prime. Another is my mother’s generation, recently married and finally happy, only to have everything ripped away. The third has lived a long and happy life that will end in suffering at the hand of this horrible horrible disease.

One of these women really could be me. If not me, certainly many people I care about will continue to be diagnosed. So what the hell do we do? What do the survivors left behind do to make sure that these women, men, and children are not forgotten and do not die without hope that someday there will be a cure? I feel like this has sparked a fire in me. While I’m not a neurosurgeon who can operate on a brain tumor, or a researcher in a lab working toward a cure, I can raise awareness, I can raise money and most importantly, I can make sure that those we lose are not forgotten.

Tonight I will be saying 3 special prayers for 3 special women. We all really do need to live each day to the fullest. We never know when our time will come. Love your family, love your friends, and be the kind of person you can be proud of when all is said and done.

Suffering

There are so many things in my life I could write about but I keep coming back to the same thing….my grandmother. While I feel I have handled the situation presented to all of us well, on the outside anyway, there are many days I just think about what life has dealt her and it makes me want to cry.

Just recently on Thanksgiving, we had a mini grandma crisis. My mother, aunt and uncle and I spent most of our holiday in the emergency room after receiving a call that my grandmother was not doing well. Every time the phone rings and I hear it’s the nursing home, I automatically fear the worst. My grandmother is almost 90 years old and has been suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years now. There is only one way this story could end, and I always fear this time is it. This is the time we will go to the hospital, and she won’t be coming back.

Turns out she was suffering from the beginnings of double pneumonia as well as severe dehydration, which in itself can be life threatening. While in the ER awaiting the test results, another woman from my grandmother’s nursing home came in to the curtained room next door. I had actually gone to elementary school with two of her granddaughters. Now if you know me, I don’t handle death and sickness and sadness well. As the situation next door was coming to a quite tragic climax, I just stared at the machines that were monitoring my grandmother’s life signs. I watched every flash and heard every beep, anticipating that something would indeed happen. The woman next door was perfectly fine, enjoying some food and wine with her family when catastrophe struck. That could easily happen to us as well. Those distraught relatives being asked about a living will could have been us, and some day will be.

It’s also well known that when elderly people suffer severe illnesses or broken bones or have to undergo surgery, it often brings about a rapid decline. Being aware of all the factors, it was soon becoming quite a stressful situation.

When things turned around and I felt confident she was going to be ok, two nurses came in to do a very thorough exam of her, looking for any other issues, i.e. broken bones (check), bruises (check), or any other wounds (check). It was the first and hopefully last time I saw what a bedsore looked like. My recent calm had turned back to worry. Not only was I fully taking in that fact that my grandmother was suffering from Alzheimer’s, a broken bone, blisters, bruises, dehydration and double pneumonia, but now I realize she has also been living with a very serious sore that she is constantly putting pressure on. How much more can you put on a person? While they were checking her wound, it was the first time in years I saw pain in my grandmother’s eyes. She was in great pain and discomfort and a tear or two began to form in her eyes. Since she has been living in assisted living homes and nursing homes, I haven’t seen this kind of pain in her eyes. It was something that I didn’t want to see, but made me realize maybe she is aware of ALL the horrible things that are going on with her. Maybe she is suffering from all kinds of pain and we just have no way of knowing.

Recent visits have been harder. With her dehydration situation, her decline may become more rapid. We try our best every week to get liquid in her system, but short of forcing the drinks down her throat (which I feel like I sometimes do), there is nothing we can do.

Last week I saw fear in her face. Another thing I haven’t seen in quite a while. It was as if she was fully aware of everything and knew she couldn’t communicate any of her fears, pains, or feelings. You, yourself, begin to feel not only helpless, but guilty. Guilty as hell that you have put your loved one in a home. Guilty as hell that you don’t know what they want or need. And guilty as hell that you can’t do one goddamn thing about it.

I feel so envious of the dementia patients I see that live in a dream world and have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I would rather my grandmother think anything about her life other than the reality, even if that meant being completely verbal but not recognizing me.

I don’t remember how her one brother died but the other suffered an unimaginable decline as well with ALS. It was the reverse of her situation. While she (in the beginning) had a healthy body but was slowly losing her mind, he had a sharp mind with a body that became useless to him. I had to watch her sister slowly decline as well for reasons I still don’t understand. It was so incredibly hard to watch such an independent and strong woman not even be able to pull the covers over herself. I don’t understand why life is so cruel sometimes. Then again, is it worse to lose someone without having had the chance to say goodbye?

On top of all this, I feel guilt, well really regret, that I never spoke to any of my grandparents before they died. By that I mean, never really sat down to talk and ask them about their lives before I came along. How they met. What it was like to be a professional dancer. How life was with the war and the depression. What was your wedding day like? How did you feel when you became a mother or a father? That is something I feel that I lost out on greatly. Our grandparents are filled with so much knowledge and fascinating stories that I am sure given the opportunity they would love to share and reminisce. If anyone reading this still has a grandmother or grandfather alive, I urge you to just talk to them. Ask them questions. They won’t be around forever and you will truly regret not getting to know who they really were. I know I do.

None of my grandparents got the chance to see me grow as an adult. None of them will be with me at my wedding. None of them will be there when I become a mother. I take comfort in the fact that they will at least be there in spirit with me. Hopefully they are proud of the life I have made for myself so far.

Julie, Julia & Jill - Like Looking in a Mirror

The other night I went to see Julie & Julia. I’d been waiting a long time for this movie to come out and was excited to finally be able to see it. Being a fan of Amy Adams and Meryl Streep, and of course Julia Child and most importantly FOOD, there was no way you could keep me away from this movie.

The theatre was packed as usual, thanks to free movie night, but I was grateful for a slightly older more mature crowd. No obnoxious teens or tweens to ruin the night by screaming obscenities out at the screen, laughing inappropriately or throwing popcorn at innocent moviegoers. Although I have to say, older people can be obnoxious as well. There was quite a bit of drama involving people blocking other people and way too much talking. But I digress.

From minute one, this movie was as charming as could be. It was based on the real lives of two women. Two very real, and very relatable women. So much so, that it was like watching a documentary about my own life. It was really creepy. Probably 90% of the story related to me and my current life situation. With all the success of this movie, I think maybe a Jill & Paula is in order; dessert edition of course. You will never catch this girl boiling cows feet or boning a duck, but I would be more than happy to make mousse or Crème Brule. The title ‘Jill & Paula’ doesn’t quite flow as well as Julie & Julia, but I think it would be a delight for sure.

Below is a list of several similarities between the life of Jill E. and the lives of Julie and Julia.

Jill Similarity #1 – Being stuck in an unfulfilling office job, trapped in a cube.

Jill Similarity #2 – Turning 30 and not being thrilled about it. Mine is right around the corner and I am terrified.

Jill Similarity #3 – Having a gaggle of friends that, while I may not hate them like Julie, I feel ashamed of my own life when they talk about their careers and successes.

Jill Similarity #4 – Finding some solace and meaning in writing. Blogging specifically to start, and then a book.

Jill Similarity #5 – Love for a TV cooking personality/writer of cookbooks that LOVES butter. Come on.

Jill Similarity #6 – Falling in love and marrying at a much older age. Hopefully that will be my future anyway. Later is better than never.

Jill Similarity #7 – Issue of never being able to have children. Mine is only a fear now. Hopefully it will not be a reality.

Jill Similarity #8 – Strong desire to be published. I’m writing two books now. Hard to believe I know, but I would Love to be published.

Jill Similarity #9 – Cooking on TV. While this was merely a crazy unrealistic dream, I strongly desired at one time to have a show on the Food Network where I was just an average girl teaching average people how to cook. The true baby steps of cooking.

Jill Similarity #10 – Lack of happiness in current place of residence. I think living at home at my age says it all on this one.

Jill Similarity #11 – Searching for a meaningful and fulfilling career. I have NO idea what I want to do.

It was like fate had brought me to this movie. It gave me hope that maybe I didn’t have before. Hope that maybe life after your 20’s won’t be so bad. Hope that there is someone out there for me. Hope that maybe someday I will be published. I left with the feeling that anything is possible. Not sure how long it will last, but for now, hope abounds.

I Wish I Had a Gayle

Over the years, I have learned that good friends are not easy to come by. Back in the day, I always used to have a ‘best friend’. It changed ever few years, but there was always that one person who I could talk to about anything, and no matter what we were doing, good times were always had. While there is nothing when you are 6, 10, or even 14 (when I was a kid anyway), that is so earth shattering that you would need a confidant, it’s different once you hit high school, and the need for that one best friend only gets worse from that point on.

You need to be able to talk to someone about your struggles, but just as important, is having someone to celebrate the good times with. Starting in high school, I used to cry EVERY year on my birthday. Well, in high school it actually wasn’t so bad. I would inevitably always have a rehearsal or performance on my birthday which both sucked and at the same time, took away all the birthday pressure. I never have birthday plans, partly because I don’t think anyone really cares to hang out with me. I always get an abundance of evites for these elaborate birthday parties, with 100+ invitees. I don’t think I even know 100 people. Meanwhile, hitting up Pizza Hut with my parents is usually the highlight of mine. Not that there is anything wrong with that. (Loser.) Thankfully, I have amazing parents!

Now of course, on the flip side, you need that person to call when you break up with your boyfriend, or have a fight with a friend, or just feel shitty about yourself, which unfortunately for me, is a common occurrence. Girl talk is important and I am lacking it big time. There is no one that I would tell my deep dark secrets to; especially without the fear of being judged. I judge myself enough; I don’t need it from other people.

I believe that everyone needs and deserves a ‘Gayle’. Minus, however, the bizarre gay lover rumors. I need someone that could be my right hand man. I need that person that would run my magazine if I had one. I need that person that would become famous just for being my best friend. I need someone I could hop in the car with and just drive across country bullshitting and laughing, and if need be, spilling my inner secrets to.

After talking to several people about this, to my surprise, I am not the only one lacking a best friend. And while that should give me some comfort, I remain envious of those who DO have one; especially since I always had one in the past. At least if you never had one, you don’t know what you are missing.

For now, I will continue truckin’ on, minus that best friend. Hopefully over time, I will learn that I don’t need one. And really, I could always just look in the mirror when I have good or bad news and tell myself. At least I know someone will be listening.

Missing the Old Days

Am I happy to be finished with the 19 years of school I was forced to endure, hell yes! Do I enjoy all of the freedom or lack there of that comes next, hell no! In my opinion, school sucks, and as much as I would like to go back and discover some new and exciting career, I think about how much I hated it the first time around, and my mind changes back very quickly. Out of those 19 years, I would have to say that middle school was easily the absolute worst. Your appearance is in its most awkward of phases, and you and your fellow classmates are all about terror and creating chaos. Middle school was the time when we made the teachers cry, would riddle the ceilings with spit balls, lock the nerds in lockers, write on each other’s clothes, and just generally create a very unpleasant environment for the teachers and each other.

High school and elementary school were ok for the most part, but I would never in a million years choose to go back to either one. Pre-school probably wouldn’t be so bad. Lots of finger painting and making turkeys out of your hand. Doesn’t get much better than that, does it? The only time I really enjoyed school was in the 6th grade. The teachers actually made learning fun. Wow, what a concept. But one good year out of 19, those are some sad looking odds.

Leaving out school, which is kind of hard to do considering how much of your life it consumes, I miss the simplicity of being an adolescent. But why I’m really bummed, is because I miss being able to call up a friend and say, “hey, let’s go to the movies”, and you go. Or the beach, or Great Adventure, or to lunch or dinner or wherever. Now, the majority of the small amount of friends that I do have, live all over the place and I often find myself, alone. I have no one to call up and meet for coffee. I have no one to go to the local street fair with. I have no one to do a White Castle run with. I’m by myself.

Truthfully, there are times when I really could care less about having friends. I have no desire to have a roommate (until a scrumptious someone of the male variety comes along of course; paging Bobby Deen!) and I often vacation alone which is amazing. You don’t have to worry about anyone but yourself. You eat when and where YOU want to eat, you visit the sites YOU want to see, you ride the rides YOU want to ride. It makes it a hell of a lot easier. The only time you may feel a tab bit of self-pity is when you are at Disneyworld let’s say, and you get up to the front of the Peter Pan line, and they ask how many in your party. Just one!

It’s the smaller things that I miss having a friend to just call up on short notice and make plans for the next day, not the next year. There are things I would love to be doing this summer, but it will end up being either I go alone and suck it up, or stay home. Staying home usually tends to win out.

Things like going to the movies and the theatre I have already learned that it’s just easier to go by myself. If I want to see a play or a movie, I just go. It’s just easier than trying to find a time that everyone can go and who wants to see what, blah blah blah. Usually there is so much waiting; I end up missing out completely. But some things are just more fun with someone else to share it with.

Nowadays, if you don’t book time with someone months in advance, you can forget about seeing them; especially in the summer. Two of my best friends in the whole world live hundreds of miles away. A handful live in the city, which while it’s not far, is a pain in the ass. Some are scattered throughout the country and some are strewn across NJ, which even in a small state, may be hours and hours away.

People grow apart, people move away, people start families. It’s a new life. It’s a new time. It’s time to adjust.

The Bucket List

So it’s official. Since I am rapidly approaching thirty, I have indeed started my very own Bucket List. While some people think it may be too early to start such a list, I say the earlier the better. Hell, I may die tomorrow by tripping over a squirrel and landing face down in a puddle. And besides, Oprah says it’s a good idea so who am I to argue with the queen. This way, I have a bigger and better chance of accomplishing my goals. Goals like, having a flea circus, or shaving a Giants ‘NY’ in the back of my head, or running naked through the Amazon. I have big dreams and they all deserve the best chance of becoming realities!

So far I have compiled a list of 51 wondrous to-dos and am hoping for more inspiration. To increase my list to hopefully 100 wondrous to-dos, I am accepting proposals for new and exciting goals from anyone who cares to contribute. Right now I have a variety of smaller and very realistic goals combined with some ‘yeah-right never gonna happen’ dreams. You gotta dream big and reach for the stars. That’s what they all say, whoever the hell ‘they’ are.

Here is what I have assembled thus far…….(in no particular order)…….

1. Travel to New Zealand (if I think I could survive the flight)
2. Travel to SoCal (before the state breaks away)
3. Travel to Vegas (and not leave broke)
4. Travel to England
5. Travel to Scotland
6. Travel to Italy
7. Travel to Vancouver
8. Travel to Germany
9. Travel to Chicago
10. Travel to Seattle
11. Travel to DC (as an adult)
12. Marriage (preferably just once)
13. Kid (s)
14. Own a home (of some kind)
15. Stay @ Paula’s Inn
16. Record a Song with my Aunt
17. Have something published
18. Go to a Superbowl
19. Own a Brand New Car
20. Learn to Swim
21. Learn to play the Guitar
22. Learn to play the Piano
23. Play Guitar with my dad
24. Go to a Broadway Premiere
25. Go to a Broadway Closing Night
26. Hug a Chimp
27. Swim with Dolphins
28. Feed a Giraffe
29. Write a Book
30. Stop Caring so much what other people think
31. Get Fit/Lose the belly fat
32. Visit Dorney Park
33. Meet a President (past or present)
34. Visit Disney LAND
35. Visit Universal - LA
36. Meet Poppi’s Family
37. Drive Across Country
38. Learn CPR
39. Take my mom to Savannah
40. Get a Mani/Pedi
41. Get a Massage
42. Get Braces (again)
43. Chemical Peel
44. Yell at someone
45. Work/Volunteer with Special Needs Children
46. Bring a homeless person a meal (hopefully more than once)
47. Visit the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame
48. Row Boat in Central Park
49. Learn to Use Chop Sticks Efficiently
50. Appear on a Late Night Talk Show
51. Create MY OWN cookie recipe

So, there it is; relatively simple goals for a relatively simple gal. In addition to suggestions however, I am open to any assistance in accomplishing the above goals. For instance, if anyone wants to purchase me Super Bowl tickets or send me on an all expense paid trip around the world, you just let me know. I’m open to charity if it means filling up my bucket!

Woke Up On the Wrong Side of the Bed…Again

This morning I woke up a tad bit later than usual. I habitually sleep through my alarm which is why I have a backup set during the week on my TV. Some mornings, with the radio blasting ‘Birthday Sex’ or ‘My Humps’ and the news people blabbering on the TV about death, tragedy, and politicians having torrid affairs in bathroom stalls and foreign lands, I still sleep through it, sound as a baby. When I lived in PA, my roommate would always ask me, ‘Did you hear the police come last night?’ “Did you hear the domestic violence going on last night?’ ‘Didn’t you hear the monkey swinging from the ceiling?’ The answer would 99% of the time be No. Generally I could sleep through almost anything, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, especially in that apartment.

I think getting up in the morning is almost certainly the worst part of the day. I mean, even on days I am heading somewhere fabulous where you think I would be full of excitement and energy and pure joy, I contemplate putting my head back on the pillow for just another 5 minutes, and then another five, and maybe just ten more minutes. Even when Disney is on the plate for the day, that waking up thing is still just so damn hard. I seriously consider postponing or even cancelling the Magic in favor of more sleep. Christmas, same thing. I love it, it’s my favorite day of the year, but I just want to SLEEP. Inevitably the Magic wins out every time, but it’s quite a struggle.

Usually my body will adjust to getting up at a certain time after a while, but it seems to be taking quite some time to adjust to my newest schedule. For 5 months I was getting up at 9…or later…and now I have the pleasure of waking up at 6:30. That’s really not that early considering I used to have to be at work in the city at 7:30 am after a car ride, a bus ride, a subway ride, and a brisk walk. I think part of the reason I have had a hard time adjusting has been this insane weather. I don’t know if you call rain every day weather, but now the sun is finally shining and summer is here and still I cannot wake up.

So this morning I was only behind by 10 or 15 minutes but that really affects the whole routine. The morning routine is set and if I deviate from the norm even one bit, something unexpected and terrible will inevitably occur. Like if I put my shirt on before my pants, I may forget to apply deodorant. It’s happened before and Nobody wants that. I made up the time this morning by abandoning my plans for breakfast and lunch. Now the fact that I have to spend money on buying lunch makes my mood worsen even more.

I was not in the best frame of mind this morning, but I feel that the dire mood is only due in small part to the loss of my usual allotted gettin’ ready time. I watched the Tonight Show while getting ready and one would think that maybe that would put a smile on my face. Conan is a funny guy. I think there may have been a few moments where one corner of my mouth started to move up a millimeter or two, but there was no full on smile happening. It’s now 9:27 am and if you could see my face as I am typing this you would probably express amusement, unlike me. I feel like I look like I want to beat the hell out of someone. That may indeed be true actually. I just can’t snap out of this mood. With 7 and ½ hours left to go ‘til the end of the day I better snap out of this sooner than later or it’s gonna be a REALLY long day.

Why is it that some days you just wake up pissed off? Where did that damn saying come from about waking up on the wrong side of the bed anyway? I would really like to know the origin. Maybe I could gain some invaluable insight or even an excuse for my sour mood. Was it because of those few minutes I lost? Was it because I was dreaming about a sailboat race with squirrels and we were losing? (Don’t ask) Or I am just a grumpy Gus for absolutely no reason? I would prefer to blame it on the squirrels. Considering I can only wake up on one side of my bed anyway, let’s hope it’s the squirrels. Otherwise I may be waking up on the wrong side of the bed everyday. Feng Shui time anyone?

Creepy Crawlies Drive Me Crazy

The dictionary defines the word bug as ‘an insect or other creeping or crawling invertebrate animal’. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that other definitions for the word are ‘an unexpected mistake or imperfection’ or ‘a disease producing germ’.

Recently it seems my dislike, or fear if you will, of all bugs has become more apparent and perhaps more severe over the last few years. You would think that with age, the fear would lessen. I mean, I am rapidly approaching 30 for heaven’s sake. I will say right off the bat however, that I truly do feel bad killing any variety of these tiny or sometimes not so tiny creatures. I often apologize profusely before stomping on them with my big ole foot or sucking them up with a Dust Buster. But, the fact remains, if they are in my house or in my car, they need to disappear. And the odds of me quietly shooing them out the door to safety is slim to none, very slim; except of course for lightning bugs. They are my only friends in the bug kingdom and I would never do them harm. I used to feel the same way about lady bugs until freshman year in college when my room was infested with them. They weren’t so lady like anymore!

Lightning bugs aside, I have issues with all other creatures in the bug universe. Many of my childhood memories involve fear of bugs. Every time we used to visit my grandmother down the hill, we would have to fend off a swarm of bees to get in the front door. And while I was told many times that they were only the chubby, happy bees that don’t sting, there was no calming me down. I could envision myself being attacked by them in a large, vicious swarm, and it wasn’t pretty. I didn’t see one bit of jolly or happiness in those bees. Of course, I never did get stung, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still scary.

My grandmother also had what we have coined Hopping Bugs in her basement which were truly terrifying. Turns out, we also have them in ours. They are actually called Camel Back or Hump Back Crickets but Hopping Bug works just fine. The name itself says it all. It you are ever bored and feel the need to google them, beware, they are extremely terrifying to look at up close, or from any distance really. I was washing the dishes one fine day and I thought I saw some sort of shadow on my shoulder. Upon further inspection, which consisted of me simply turning my head to the left, I realized that one had silently hopped its way on to my shoulder. Not sure from where it hopped, but there it was. I went into a hysterical state, full of rage and intent on Killing. Can’t remember if I caught it or not. That part of the memory is a little fuzzy. They often creep there way upstairs and when I find them it’s like terror envelops me. Seriously, look them up. Scary little bastards.

Then of course there are spiders. I really hate them. My grandmother was the kind of person that would see a spider and either leave it alone and take the risk of having it crawl on her face while sleeping, or catch it and set if free out in the wilderness. I, on the other hand, scream (depending on the size and location) and look for the nearest weapon. Last weekend we were harmlessly out for a drive, when out of nowhere, I started twitching and yelling. My poor friend who was driving of course feared something was wrong until I told her there was a large spider crawling toward me. In a car you are trapped. Seat belted in to a confined space with no chance of evasion. Eventually, and due in large part to the fact that I was perhaps creating a dangerous driving environment, my friend pulled over so we could do away with this evil creature. She gave me a rolled up magazine and told me to just brush it off the door. Fear took over my body as I stared in to the eyes of this hairy, blue-mouthed spider. I couldn’t do it. What if it jumped at me while I was trying to simply help it to safety? Thankfully my friend came to the rescue, acknowledging first that this particular spider was indeed scary. She brushed it out of the car and off we sped as to not give it a chance to jump back on to the car and continue its terror spree.

Everyone has bug stories. I mean, there are countless more bugs in the world than people so encountering them is unfortunately a daily occurrence. I could go on and on about Japanese Beetles getting tangled in my hair, or inhaling mosquitoes while playing soccer, or being bittern countless times by fleas, or waking up to a squirrel sitting on my hamper…. Oh, sorry, that’s another story and an entirely different topic. Back to the bugs, I know they have their value in the world and I respect that, I guess. If they could only stay away from me, perhaps I wouldn’t mind them so much. It’s only in their best interest anyway, seeing as how coming near me is most likely a death sentence. Creep and crawl all you want, just maintain a safe perimeter and all will be well.

Rapidly Approaching 30

So, it has recently been thrown in my face that I am rapidly approaching the big 3-0. And while this accusation is 100% true, it is something that I have feared probably since I was 25. I have many memories of declaring, “I’m almost 30, I’m almost 30”, loudly from my friend’s Queens balcony, when I still had 4 or 5 years to go. Now it’s down to months and I think I am in complete denial. I have no idea what comes after the number 29. Perhaps 29.1, 29.2, 29.3………. Thirty is a dirty, dirty word.

When you are young, you look forward to aging. There are so many wonderful things to look forward to at that point. When you are an infant, there are countless milestones in your life that, while you have no memory of them now, are very exciting at the time. Mostly exciting for your parents, but they certainly do make your life more interesting. Like the first time you realized you had hands and fingers. That supplied endless hours of trippy fun. Or when you figured out that you could put your foot in your mouth; more hours of amusement. Now I can’t even get my foot halfway to my mouth; although I do often put my foot in my mouth in a different way. Moving on, you then you have your first roll over, first crawl, steps, word, sentence, and the list goes on and on.

Once you reach adolescence, the milestones become more important and exciting for you and less so for your parents. They are just an emotional mess because their baby is growing up. I remember how excited I was to reach double digits. 10! It was such a huge deal. Travelling down the “Death Hill” on Rt 23, I would always tell my aunt to be extra careful to ensure I would make it to double digits. Then there’s becoming a teenager…. Seemed exciting at the time, but I would never choose to relive those years. No, thank you.

Between the ages of 16 and 21 are probably the most exciting birthdays you will have. 16, you get your permit and create much fear in your parents who have the unfortunate privilege of being in the car with you. 17, you can drive all by yourself and inevitably experience your first minor car accident. 18, you are an adult, which means buying your own cigarettes and accruing gambling debts. 19, you are almost 20. 20, you aren’t a teenager anymore, thank God. And of course 21, the age of countless black outs. After that, really the only age to look forward to is 25 so you can rent a car. Still haven’t taken advantage of that exciting privilege.

So, now it’s 2009 and I have hit all of my childhood milestones. So what’s left? 3-0 is right around the corner and every day I notice something else that only brings it home that I am getting older. For example, I recently noticed that my stomach and backside have been taken over by cellulite. Uh, where the hell did that come from? Gonna have to buy a cream for that. While on the beach last weekend, I found a small cluster of spider veins. Uh, I didn’t invite you to the beach. Perhaps they have a cream for that. While posing with a large tub of peanut butter sauce from Hershey, I noticed in the photograph that I have some pretty darn intense crow’s feet. Bring on the eye cream. And isn’t the fact that I just said photograph an indication of age? I’ve also noticed my face is getting fatter, despite my recent workout activities. Is there a magic cream for chubby face???

I am lucky that I have someone at work that is also rapidly approaching 30; and approaching much more rapidly than me I might add. Sorry Alexis. It’s nice to have someone to go through all of these revelations with on a daily basis. I really think they need support groups for aging. ‘Hi, My name is Jill and I am rapidly approaching 30’. We could discuss wrinkles, and cellulite, and weakened bladders, and perhaps gain some advice from fellow almost 30 year olds in a loving and nonjudgmental environment. I would attend those meetings; unless of course I forgot due to my fading memory. We could gain invaluable advice about what to do if you need to pee and there is no bathroom in site. Or, how to properly apply eye cream, and wrinkle cream, and cellulite cream, and foot cream, and anti-aging cream, and fortifying creams.

I’m not sure how I’ll feel on the actual day of the big 3-0. I think I may need to keep a psychologist on standby. I would need them to keep me calm after hearing all my parent’s age friends and family tell me ‘30 isn’t old’ or ‘you have your whole life ahead of you’. Well, thanks but no thanks. You were all married with a house and children and a career well before 30! I got nothing. Nothing except for my pseudo-independence, which is pretty awesome. Having to adjust to sharing my schedule with another person someday is not something I look forward to.

As for now, I will continue to purchase cream after cream. I will march on proudly and cream-covered as my last days of being a twenty something are fewer and fewer. Perhaps a bucket list is in order.

Please, Stop Singing!

I realize that people tend to annoy me rather easily. I try not to judge and I try to always be kind, but there are some inhabitants of this planet that I think just crave other people’s attention and it drives me crazy! Everyone has encountered somebody like this at some point….many points probably. It’s not just that they are craving their friends’ attention; they are trying to get it from all the people around them as well. And it’s not just the attention they crave, but more annoyingly, jealousy. I hate to pick on only one group of people, but unfortunately most of the time I get extremely agitated, it’s by a member of this particular group. It’s a group to which I actually belong, theatre folk; be it simply a fan like me or a wannabe Broadway Star.

Let’s start with perhaps the most common offense that I am charging this group with. I’m at a show perusing the Playbill, anxiously awaiting the curtain’s rise. There are two people that I have the unfortunate pleasure of being seated near. I am keeping to myself if alone, or if with my theatre-loving posse, harmlessly and quietly trying to find celebrity look-a-likes in the audience. Then it inevitably starts…… These people feel the need to A) Criticize everyone’s bio and comment about how poorly written they are, while making fun of the fact that they have ALL appeared in Law & Order. First of all, I don’t see your bio in there, so really, zip it. And secondly, what the hell is so wrong with appearing on Law & Order? It’s like one of the only dramas shot in the city where these people live and work and it’s a great franchise. Again, I’m not seeing you on the TV am I? And B) They proceed to look at the show listings in the back of the Playbill and LOUDLY announce to their friends how many they have seen, and how many times, and how they saw four shows in one week. Great….super….nobody cares.

Another somewhat common offense occurs when fans of ‘cult’ shows such as Rent (R.I.P.), wait outside the stage door with excited theatre fans waiting to say hello to, let’s say, Anthony Rapp. When the smaller cast members begin to trickle out, these offenders immediately begin commenting on each of them, and talking about them like they are best buds. “Oh, there’s Amy, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be talking to that guy”. Or “Here comes Justin. I think he has Yoga in the Village tonight.” It’s a never ending string of futile comments trying to evoke jealously from nearby fans. And news flash, the fact that you are a stage door stalker EVERY NIGHT does not make you friends with these people. Listen, I used to go to the stage door after shows all the time and still do on special occasions. There’s nothing wrong with that. However, please do not try and make yourself feel ‘cool’ because you are really just coming off as irritating and stalkerish.

The final offense that I am going to discuss involves a combination of just babbling on and on about being in shows and auditioning, and singing (badly I might add) songs from EVERY musical that you have ever seen. This past weekend I was in LBI with a fellow theatre fan who actually works in a professional theatre. We got on line for some ice cream at the Show Place, which, at the time I was excited to finally be able to try out. Excited of course until I realized it would involve humiliation on my part, but that’s another story. While waiting, a group of four high schoolers got on line right behind us. High school and middle school children generally annoy me by just being…..well, by just being. But I try to be open to the fact that they may actually be good kids. However, this was not the case on this fine evening.

Almost immediately I could tell this was not going to be an enjoyable wait. The one girl in particular, made me want to literally cut my ears off with my car keys with her obnoxious antics. She began telling her friends about some audition she had lined up and the task of choosing a proper audition song. Then proceeded to sing each and every song….loudly and badly. She would say like, “Hey what about ‘Tits and Ass’ from A Chorus Line?” and then belt it out. “Maybe I should sing ‘Without You’ from Rent”….. belt it out. This went on for far too long. Perhaps I should have suggested ‘Let Your Freak Flag Fly’ from Shrek. That may have been more appropriate. Or even better, ‘Freak/Ode to Attention Seekers’ from Taboo. The mother and daughter in front of us actually up and left the line and I could only imagine it was because of the blabbering, singing fool behind us. Of course, when we go in to be seated, that lovely party of four was placed RIGHT in front of us. Unfortunately, and to no surprise, the irritating behavior continued, just in a different fashion.

I clearly don’t set out to be bothered by these people. I set out to have an enjoyable theatre experience but these offenders seem to be in abundance. It only makes you wonder, do I bother people this much when I am out and about? Is someone dedicating some negative blog to me and people like me? Who knows and who cares! Just stop the damn singing!

P-Dizzle

I worked in TV for a few years (a few long, and sometimes unbearable years), in which time, celebrity citings were a part of my every day life. For the most part I would think, wow, this is so cool that Soleil Moon Fry is gonna be on today’s show, but it was a rare occasion that I got really excited about a guest. Work is work after all. It’s funny though how if I saw a celeb at work in the morning I didn’t care, but if I saw that same person out on the street or in a restaurant later on, I suddenly became filled with excitement. Oh my God, it’s Steve Urkle!

Of course there were occasions when we would have a guest that I admired or just had a mad crazy girl crush on. Some I’m not proud of, but you know, you can’t help your feelings, right? One of those embarrassing ‘crushes’ was non other than Mr. Constantine Mouroulis. Generally there was no chit chatting with guests, but the audio guy Brian knew I was crushing and felt the need to tell Constantine that I too was from NJ in order to try and initiate a conversation. He was very kind and sweet and as usual, I just smiled and turned red. No idea what, if anything, I said back to him and then he was off.

Other people I got quite excited about include the likes of David Duchovny (it’s Mulder for goodness sake), Jennifer Hudson, and of course Mary Poppins herself, Julie Andrews. Who wouldn’t be nervous and excited about that one? She’s practically perfect in every way. When we got off the elevator people were just lined up to see her, and many of us were brought to tears merely by being in her presence.

The one that topped the cake though is no surprise to anyone who knows me. Mickey Mouse you say? Not quite. It’s the queen of southern cuisine and mayor of Butter Town, Paula Deen! People would always wonder why I loved her so much, but that changed quickly as soon as they all had the privilege of meeting her in person. It’s like you meet her and you become an instant stalker. Not me of course, but I’ve seen it happen.

The first time I ‘met’ Paula Deen, she was doing a signing at BJ’s of all places. A few days prior, I had met her sons at another book signing where my crush on Bobby Deen certainly deepened. If you look at the picture below, I think we would make quite a lovely couple if I do say so myself. I never said I was a rational person. They were wonderful and sweet and I would actually be seeing them the next week along with their fabulous mother because they were all scheduled to be guests on Rachael (thanks to me and Holly). A few days later, I finally saw Paula Deen in the flesh with her husband Michael Groover aka Santa Clause. It was like a Dream Come True and a Nightmare all at the same time. Of course I was nervous and excited to meet someone I so admire. When she arrived, the crowd cheered (they damn well better have) and she quickly started her signing to ensure everyone got an autograph and a hello. The Nightmare came in when I finally got up to her and Michael and had NOTHING to say. Shocking I know. It was basically a 3 second encounter where she was handed the book by her assistant, said hello and they kicked you the hell out like a wicked awful assembly line. The thing that kept me positive was that I knew I would be seeing her the next week on the show.

So next week came and I of course was anxious all day. The first batch of guests came and I was fitting in a quick lunch before it was time for Ms. Butter and her son’s arrival. The receptionist told me as I was shoving food in my mouth, that the Deen Boys were in the lobby, which I merely took as a mean joke as that would mean they would have been VERY EARLY, ungreeted and confused wandering around the lobby. Long story short, they were indeed just hanging out in the lobby unattended. Not good! I made a B-Line for the elevator, apologized, brought them upstairs and ran back down to await Ms. Deen herself. I was so rushed I couldn’t even enjoy the fact that I was riding in a small elevator with BOTH the Deen boys. Yum! Paula arrived soon after, we directed the car in to the garage and out she came like a beam of sunshine. Inside I was a mess, but I calmly and professionally shook her hand and welcomed her, and simply told her it was very nice to meet her.

As to not babble on and on about the best day of my life, soon after I was formally introduced to her in the green room with an audience of close to 30 people. I couldn’t even look at her so thankfully I had co-workers to do the talking for me. She was so sweet and so gracious and we took a few quick pictures before I had to run off and get my ass back to work. After her visit, people understood where my love for her came from.

Since then, I’ve had the pleasure of attending her show in Savannah, randomly meeting the boys at The Lady & Sons, and working on her show for a few weeks when it came to NY. While it seemed like working on her show would be a dream come true for me, it was actually kind of a frustrating experience. First of all, I really wanted to be watching the show not working on the show. Secondly, it was hard to see her come and go off stage without getting a chance to say hello. Although, let’s be honest. We all know that if I did get a chance to talk to her, just like last time, I would be speechless and kick myself later for it. I did have one chance to say something, anything, when she wandered over to the craft service table babbly delightfully about the wonderful variety of yummy snacks. Of course, I was silent and just smiled and chuckled at EVERTHING she said. Thirdly, I don’t like the idea of Paula doing her show in New York. New York City is too big, and cold, and colorless. The show was so much warmer when it was taped at Uncle Bubba’s. On the up side, I did have a lovely chat on the street corner with Michael Groover; another fabulous person. Can you tell I really love that family?

Since I no longer work in TV, I fear my Deen encounters will be fewer and fewer. And now that I have a Real job with Real hours, chances of me running in to any family members in Savannah are very slim. I will keep my Deen love alive by watching her shows, reading her magazines, buying her boys’ books, buying her books, and pans, and knives, and dishes, and spoons, and t-shirts, and magnets…… Oh wait, I already have all of those. She truly is a delight ya’ll!