the only car you can af-ford after the split

a few months ago my friend and i were watching tv at my place and this commercial came on. by the end of the spot our jaws were hanging open and i was frantically hitting the rewind button on the dvr to make sure we hadn't misunderstood it.
but no, there was no misunderstanding.
ladies and gentleman, may i present the car of the future; the car for the recently divorced family.
it seems that there is a plague of impending marriages and divorces spreading through my various circles of friends; the marriages mostly occuring amongst the people my age and the divorces amongst those i know who are in their mid- to late-thirties and have been married for around 6 to 10 years. (hmmmm, a clue, sherlock!!)
three of my ex-roommates have either gotten engaged or married. meanwhile two of my ex-colleagues are muddling through messy divorces right now.
i kind of want to put them all in a room together with a giant wedding cake in the middle, then sit back and watch the frosting fly.
and now, ford motorcars has decided to tap into this rapidly growing niche in america of thirty-something recently divorced families.
all i have to say is this:

fair play to ford. way to stay on top of current american culture.

five years later

i was finishing breakfast and leaving for my very first day of acting class, freshman year of college at new york university when the planes hit. i remember being very confused to look up at one of the two landmarks i was instructed to use as a compass to find my dorm (the other being the empire state building) and see a smoking hole at the top of one of the towers. i ran upstairs to wake up my new roommate and best friend from high school (who happened to be visiting that week) and tell them that some plane had hit the world trade center, but that i *had* to go to class as it was the first day.
they kept us in school for about an hour, our section leader claiming it would be good to have some healing circle or various bullshit, until a girl from another section came running into our room in tears that one of the buildings had fallen. the teacher instructed us to immediately go home and call our families.
i remember walking out of the building and thinking it strange that there was so much smoke in the air, considering how far downtown the wtc was from nyu, and starting to walk back to my dorm with a friend from class. when we reached fifth avenue and saw the empire state standing tall in fron of us, due north up the avenue, we turned around to see how much was left standing of the twin towers. surely the buildings had only cracked off toward the top, where the planes had hit...
we told each other that there must be too much smoke in the air and that we were too far downtown to see them from this vantage point, but once we got to the entrance to the dorm we'd be able to see what remained.
when we reached 35 5th Avenue we turned back to look at the spot where we would usually recognize the towers but still couldn't see anything resembling the outline of a building through the haze.
"what the fuck, we can usually see them from here, what's going on?" i complained to my friend.
and i'll never forget this moment as long as i live, (excluding the chance of alztheimers or some such thing) a black woman with extremely short dredlocks, wearing a light tan business suit, paused as she walked by us as said "they're gone. there's nothing left to see."

that night they had barricaded the streets below 14th street so i went downstairs with my new college friends and drank beer, chainsmoked, and watched a bunch of kids play football in the middle of 5th avenue. there was a sense of unity bred from suffering, panic, and fear that blanketed the city more thickly than the haze that we joked would give us all mutant forms of cancer (which it is). throughout the night people could be either laughing or sobbing, silly or serious, open or closed. there were no judgements. there were no cries of anger or vengance. there were only the feelings love and loss.
it was a few years before i really felt the weight of what i had experienced that day. i suppose i shut it out to shield myself from the barrage of questioning i got from everyone i knew back home afterwards. but when i saw fahrenheit 9/11 and it got to the part where there's only a black screen and the sound of what was happening in the city, i started sobbing and had to leave the theater. and i still can't bring myself to go to ground zero.
as i look back on the years i've spent in new york since 9/11/01 i've come to realize that that was the day i really fell in love with this city, and experienced one of those days that will make it a place i truly call home for the rest of my life.

i guess beggars CAN be choosers

there is a woman who occasionally stands on the corner next to my office begging for food. i've never heard her ask for money; it's always the same thing:
"does anyone have any leftover food they don't want?...any food from lunch?...anyone have any extra food?"
i feel bad for this woman. she's been haunting my block for at least six months and i've never actually seen anyone give her food. (to be fair, my office isn't really located in an area of town with the kind of people who bring their leftovers home after work)
so i decide it's high time i do a good deed; something nice for someone that i have absolutely nothing invested in. you know, karma.
now, funds have been running *scarily* low in my bank account as of late, so i don't have a ton of cash. i walk across the street to guy & gallard and purchase two apples and a bottle of cold water.

i walk back across the street, to where this woman is now smiling vacantly at a dog waiting at the corner with its master. i walk up to her and say warmly:

"here you go, two apples and a bottle of water"
"oh, no thanks, i get fruit all day"
"oh...are you sure?"
"yeah, i don't want any fruit"

i'm starting to get annoyed now.

"well do you want the bottle of water?"
"no, i don't feel well"

she does say 'thank you' but then turns away and continues begging people on the street for their lunch scraps.

i'm never doing anything nice for a stranger again.

ruse for jesus

i am the bastard child of a former-catholic and a minimally-practicing jew.
there, i've said it.
i've come to terms with it.
in fact, i actually believe it's made me a *much* more open minded and generally well-rounded person than most people who adhere to strict religious principles. my parents decided when i was born that they would not shove any sort of belief system on me as a young child, and that we would discuss the subject when i was old enough to sort of poke around and see what sort of religion, if any, appealed to me. i became as close to an athiest as an agnostic can be, and i'm probably only really "agnostic" cause i don't feel like religion is worth the effort it takes to vehemently argue the points of athiesm.
i *hate* the way my mom's cousin is constantly trying to force her born-again christian b.s. on everyone within a fifty mile radius of her, so automatically catholisism was out.
i got both sets of holidays as a kid, but in a very low-maintenance way. (ie- passover, easter, hannukah, and christmas were the only holidays we celebrated in my house and they were all pretty much just an excuse for my parents and me to dress up, eat a nice dinner at home, and give each other presents)
temple can be okay, but the music is sooo depressing, use a major key already.
i've only been to mass once, on easter when i was visiting my grandmother at (i believe) age 10. i respected the service and whathaveyou, but when we walked out i turned to my grandma and said "i'm never going there again." christianity just really wasn't for me. thank's for calling, but i'm happy with my current service.
but i suppose we all have to feel *some* sort of connection to our historic roots, so i (still very minimally) jumped on the jewaggon. even though my dad is responsible for the jew in my blood, i choose to disregard the fact that in the eyes of the truly faithful this excludes me from the bunch (i have indeed had the hasidics that come up to you outside the bedford L train ask if i'm jewish and when i say "half" they ask me which side. upon hearing "my dad's" they literally turn and walk away) but i don't care. i consider it to be part of my race if not my faith. besides, latkes might just be the best food ever created.
so it really fuckin' irks me when i walk down in the subway and see a hoarde of black tee shirts bearing three solid stars of david with the initials "j f j" on them. these itinitials, of course, stand for "jews for jesus". maybe it's because these people remind me of the righteous antics of my mom's aforementioned cousin. maybe it's because it's simply an oxymoron. i don't know, but these people piss me off *almost* as much as the burgeoning mass of scientologists plagueing our city's fair subways.
the next time one of them comes up to me while i'm waiting for the train i shall pause, calmly turn to them, and say this:

"take your christian propaganda and shove it right up your jesus-loving ass. cause he's certainly not *my* personal lord and savior."

i can't get no...satisfaction...

i was raised to believe that girls can do anything that boys can, and should pursue whatever it is they want in life (i mean, i'm currently making a movie about a female serial killer simply because my boss told me that women can't be serial killers). however, i have come to the conclusion that little girls should be banned from being "it" while playing tag. being "it" fosters a feeling that it's fun to chase. and for legitimate reasons; it *is* fun to chase; to concoct a plan of attack, pounce, and bask in the glow of the successful catch. on the playground, you can chase the boys all day and no one ever thinks twice about it. they're just kids having fun. but no one stops to think about the fact that this game is teaching little girls everywhere that the boys like to be chased, and with enough patience and perspiration you will catch them.
when i stepped off the playground and into middle school, the curse of the cooties was lifted from the boys. luckily, it seemed, i had already been taught how to catch one; just chase him around and around in circles until you finally tag him. then he's your's, right?
not so. after chasing more boys through middle school and into high school than i care to recall, i finally learned that tag was a game of the past. at least the way i had been taught how to play the game. somewhere between the elementary school playground and the high school quad the rules had changed. suddenly the boys didn't want to be chased. this has been the hardest thing for me to accept in all my years of "dating". after a slew of failed attempts to revive my role as hunter, i had to concede defeat, and let the boys chase me from then on, even if it meant my heart was never in it.
for years now i have been sitting back and letting them come to me. i've played the game the way it's supposed to be played now and i've gone from one boring and suffocating relationship to another. these boys pursued me mercilessly, and i played along for a while, but after a short period i always realized that i didn't want them. i didn't like being called ten times a day or stared at when i walked by or put up on a pedestal.
the problem with the game of tag is that one person is always running AWAY from the other.
eventually i concluded that a "normal" relationship just wasn't for me, and i sort of gave up on love. well, not so much gave up as decided i could never fall in love the way i wanted to. the ones i fell for would always run from me and the ones who fell in love with me were always too eager, which made me run from them. it was exhausting. i retired my running shoes and locked my heart in a rusty cage. i told myself i was the girl who couldn't love, because i really couldn't in the traditional manner.
then a month ago i started casually dating this guy. fairly early into things we ended up at my house, just the two of us, and after two hours of scintillating conversation we (naturally) started making out. in no time at all i had experienced the best oral sex of my *life*. whew. i have to take a moment just thinking about it.

however, a kiss and a caress later, i was asked if that was enough for tonight.
enough? yeah, for me, but what about you?
well, i think i need to take things a little slow for now.
no worries, slow and steady wins the race, after all.

that was 25 days ago, and there hasn't been so much as a tickling of tongues between us since. i totally respect his stand on things, and i'm trying not to chase him, but rather take things at his pace. but i can only go home to the loving arms of the green knoblin (le vibrator) for so long before i'll start to lose my mind.

the moral of the story is: if you want to make the girl who can't love fall for you, give her the best head of her life, then withhold any and all sexual contact. it'll make your head spin almost as much as her's is.

b's self-help cliffsnotes

while sitting on the L train back to the 'burg in rush-hour foot traffic, i noticed a rather unfortunate woman sitting across from me. she was probably about 45 years old, with the kind of leathery skin that befalls those (myself included) who refuse to wear sunscreen on their faces. despite her obvious age, this woman was wearing ice-pink lipstick (a color that hasn't been seen since the mid-90s) and had her hair cropped short, with amelie-style bangs, and clasped back off her face with silver mini-clips (the kind you see on pre-teens in the midwest). clutched in her weathered hands was a copy of the book "how to win friends and influence people".
now obviously this woman needs a self-help book. probably more than one. so i have decided to save her (and anyone else who feels they might need a little self-improvement)and dispense my own advice right here and now.

1. DRESS YOUR AGE
nothing is sadder than seeing *that woman*. you know exactly what i'm talking about. the woman who was probably really hot in her 20's, but hasn't allowed her style to evolve with her body. there's a reason those clothes are sold in the "junior department". they were designed for your grandkids.

2. WEAR MAKEUP THAT SUITS YOUR COLORING
not all colors look good on everyone. it seems that a majority of women out there have come to accept this fact when it comes to clothing, so why on earth don't they apply it to their makeup too?? the only person that has ever looked good in neon pink lipstick is barbie. throw it out. now.

3. STOP FUCKING CRYING ABOUT HOW MUCH YOUR LIFE SUCKS
the only thing you're going to accomplish by complaining about your life is make everyone else's life suck too. stop it. whining makes you look fat.

4. DON'T READ SELF-HELP BOOKS IN PUBLIC
this only shows people hard and fast proof that you are a huge loser with no friends and no confidence. even if this is true, don't fucking advertise it. that's like making a caserole out of little jimmy's parents and then telling him the magic ingredient *before* he takes a bite. how stupid can you be?

that is really all i have to say. follow these simple guidelines and you will be happier and healthier. well, at least you won't be as sad a bastard as you were before.

(this) SO IS (a mental) & (informative) SPARK

in 1993 i was entering my 10th year of life; a budding creative opening her eyes for the first time on pop-culture. it would still be two years before i bought a cd that wasn't strictly musical theatre (or michael jackson, really one and the same). however '93 was the year i started watching regular tv shows, most namely "the adventures of brisco county junior" starring bruce campbell as a wacky western outlaw and "lois & clark; the new adventures of superman" with dean cain and teri hatcher.
these two tv shows were the first (and come to think of it, the last) shows that i ABSOLUTELY had to watch every week, first airing, no questions asked. and if someone had put an ak47 to my tender young skull and said "you have to choose; brisco or superman" my instant answer would have been "superman". i actually suspect (though can't really remember for sure) that dean cain was my first crush. every week i would scramble to the tube to tune into abc to see what evil scheme of lex luthor's [the hottest] superman [ever] would have to thwart and what lois would say to brush off clark's charms for the thousandth time (oh, if only she knew his true identity!). even the eternally mediocre teri hatcher was great in "lois & clark", and even though i haven't seen so much as a single frame of this show since it originally aired, it has stuck with me for over 12 years. i just didn't quite know how deep the brand was until i started watching it again a week ago.

about a month ago i reconnected with a guy i hadn't seen in years, and upon hearing of my childhood nostalgia towards "lois & clark" he loaned me his dvd copy of the first season. i dashed home faster than a speeding bullet to pop it in the dvd player and relive all those carefree 44 minutes where superman always came to the rescue. kind of like the night i watched "clueless" for the first time since its release, a LOT more jokes and inuendoes hit home for me than they had when i was 10 years old. this time around i noted the writing *behind* the characters, which before had been an entire non-entity for me (i thought that dean cain walked around his malibu mansion in his superman outfit). and i noticed something strange about the writing of "lois & clark", it was profoundly similar to my *own* style of writing. there, up on my screen, in full '90s color, were the same puns, word-play, and tongue-in-cheek jabs at the show's media venue. (for example, in one episode there is a talent agent chasing superman all over metropolis, trying to get him to sign with his agency. he tells superman that he's already got a deal for a tv show, and lois says "right, superman on tv, that'll be the day." or the episode where clark tells lois they could hear her yelling all the way in gotham.) these kind of jokes pepper my own [screen]plays, not to mention the character types represented in the show. there's lois; the smart and independent woman who is really using her strength to hide her own insecurities. there's clark; the unlikely hero. there's perry; the one-liner spouting comic relief. there's jimmy; the physical comic relief. there's the kents; the uber-supportive parents. and finally there's lex luthor; the evil-genius villain, whom you want to hate but he's just *so* charming...
i do miss "lois & clark; the new adventures of superman". it was a great (albeit VERY '90s) program, full of hope and desire and secrets and action. it's good to know that it survives in something more than my heart.