Monday, January 24, 2011

The Animal Lady

The high today in NYC was 17 degrees. With the wind chill (which until a few years ago I still thought was called wind "shield" . . . don't ask. I thought it had something to do with how fast the wind hit a car's wind shield when you were going 60 miles per hour. I don't know where my mind comes up with these things,) it felt like 2 degrees. Yes, you read that correctly. TWO degrees. I woke up, looked at the weather, and immediately thought about all the poor dogs that are in a shelter in my neighborhood that needed walking. I knew that most of the volunteers would probably cancel due to the weather, so I put on my warmest sweater and my furriest boots and trekked the 25 minutes to the shelter. Thank goodness I did because the shelter desperately needed people.

The first dog I walked was the sweetest little . . . uh, I don't know what type. Horrible with names. Well, he was just the sweetest little guy. I took him on an hour walk which included a lap around a park. When we got to the park I let him play in the snow for awhile because he was just the happiest most giddy kid ever. He acted like he had never seen snow before and was so excited. And then it happened.

I let go of the leash.

Completely by accident. I'm still not sure how it happened but OMG. My heart hasn't pounded that hard in a long time. As Max went crazy, unleashed and free in the snow at last, superhero E took over. I couldn't let this guy get away. He could get hit by a car. He could end up back on the streets. He might never find his forever home. I flung the poop bags on the ground and ran through that snow like I've never run before. "Max! Maaaaaaax!" Looking back, I must have looked like a crazed schizophrenic person. I felt my knees about to buckle when he stopped and looked back at me with a little smirk. And then he kept running. He's a fast little guy. I finally got to him and collapsed in a heap on top of him. Half relief and half exhaustion. I then proceeded to cup his face in my hands for the next five minutes saying over and over again, "Max, never do that to me again! I was so scared! I thought I lost you forever!"

That was dog number one. I had only spent an hour with the furry guy and already wanted to adopt him. I watched longingly as he was put back in his kennel when they brought the next two out. They were really small. The girl was named Edith and the boy was named Max. They've been together for 12 years, and when I say been together, I mean been together. As in, they were just in the newspaper because they just got married on Saturday. By a priest. Only in New York.

Well, Archie was fine walking around but poor little Edith was a hot mess. She hated all the loud city noises and was freezing her little paws off in the snow. Eventually I picked her up, wrapped my scarf around her, and carried her the rest of the way.

That was dog number two. And I wanted to adopt her and her handsome husband as well. Volunteering at the shelter is going to be such a rewarding experience. But I am going to have to be very very careful not to become one of those people who have animals in every nook and cranny of their apartment. Forget cat lady. I'll be the animal lady.

Oh, and PS- little Archie and Edith have had a lot of drama as of late. A crazy dog napper actually kidnapped poor little Edith just a little while ago! This was the fifth dog that this lady supposedly kidnapped so she's in biiiig trouble with the law now. That's what she gets for trying to tear true love apart!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Three Can Have a Secret if Two of Them are Dead

Human behavior fascinates me. Take liars for example. Now, I'm not talking about people who say little white lies in order to spare someone else's feelings. I think we've all done that at least once in our lives. No, I'm talking about people who flat out weave and spin stories so much that there is no longer an ounce of truth from the original event.

What I don't understand about these people though, is aren't they afraid of how they're going to look when the truth does comes out? Isn't that kinda where the phrase, "take it with a grain of salt," comes from? I mean, some lies can be so grandiose that I'm surprised anyone believes them in the first place. Then again, you're talking to one of the most gullible people in the world (no really, ask my brothers and dad- they sure had a hell of a good time pulling pranks on me when I was a kid ;) ), so I can't blame people for believing things too easily. Liars are like blogs on the internet. You just never know when to believe if what they're saying in credible.

This whole thing has got me thinking though. Why is it that people lie? My theory: Self preservation. When people distort the truth to others, it's to try to convince themselves that it is indeed the truth to protect themselves from something. Hurt, frustration, blame, all of that. Which is why I feel sorry for those people who can't face the truth.

Then again, I'm an actress who puts on costumes and plays make-believe, so who am I to really talk? In other news, I'm happily cozied up in my apartment excitedly waiting for the big storm we're about to have. I CAN'T WAIT TO GO SLEDDING. Whatever, I don't care if I'm a little kid. I'll always love snow.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Egg Head

So there I was. All dolled up and ready to go out. Where was I going you ask? Only to the annual holiday party of a popular soap opera. One of my friends from highschool had recently landed a contract role on the show and invited me to be his date. A chance to dress up and socialize with some of the best of the best? I jumped on it.

So there I am, trying to laugh at all the right moments, sprinkle conversation with my wit, and look glamorous when it happened. Let me preface this by saying, you can't take me anywhere. I was dancing with one of the other actors and for some reason we thought it would be a wise idea to do some 80's lifts. Bad idea in real life. Even a worse idea in a tight black dress and 4 inch heels. Long story short:

He fell. I fell on top of him. One of us grabbed the tablecloth where the bar was set up for support. A full beer bottle fell on my forehead followed by a heavy glass. There were stares. There was exclamation. There was drama. Only I would create drama at a soap party. Not the soap actors. Nope. Just lil ole E.

I then spent the rest of the evening on the dance floor with a napkin filled with ice pressed against my head. Thank you to my wonderful friend who put a fake ice napkin on his forehead too so I wouldn't feel alone.

Yep, that happened. And I had a huge egg sized bump on my forehead to prove it. That was fun to explain to the parents when I went home for Christmas.

I'm pretty sure I deserve some kind of award for getting the most klutzy injuries of 2010.

Well you can't say I didn't make an impression! Next time I need to work on making it a "good" one, lol.


There is a fine line between tough love and being a flat out bitch. Just sayin :)

Apparently I've been a bit off track in my blog as of late. So here's a quick run down of what I'm working on: I'm currently filming three awesome films (one feature, two shorts), I have a film premier of a feature I shot on January 28th (and we could really use your support- check out, I'm putting together a hilarious comedic webseries (see post below), and am producing my own show in February.

Positive vibes people, positive vibes!

PS- I seriously have the best friends in Brooklyn.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Thank you

Thank you. Thank you to the person who said he needed a break of a week or two and then never spoke to me again. Thank you to the person who lied to me about going to strip clubs and getting lap dances (like I really give a shit? I care about you lying, not about you having a night out with the boys) and then telling me the truth years later. Thank you to the person that I moved to France for who left the bar and went home with another girl right in front of me. But most of all? Thank you to the person who told me he loved me, wanted to marry me, wanted me to have his children, and then decided to break up with me because he wanted to go fool around with a wrestler chic. And thank you to that same person who continues to send me texts saying, "I love you. So go fuck yourself. I really miss you."

Oh really? You love me? I'm pretty sure love means not saying hurtful things in the same sentence. You don't know the meaning of love. Let me remind you, my kind blog readers of what a nice little moral compass called the bible says of love:

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

You never loved me. You just wanted to possess me. So thank you. Because you made me grow up and realize that this game of drama in relationships is something I want no part of. You fucked up. All of you. But I forgive you all. Because I'm a good person and still actually care about each and every one of you.

But most of all?

Thank you.

Because the webseries I'm going to create about all of this is going to be AWESOME.