Day 89: How I feel about Church…

Posted on March 29, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Stephanie Leone)!

This is Abby Church.

This is why this post is about Abby Church and not the other kind of Church as the heading implies…gotcha…peace be with you:

If you are not a loyal reader (because you are a loser…or a hobo who stole somebody’s computer while they were in the bathroom at Starbucks because the nice little old lady that said she would watch it got up and left because she realized she forgot to record her stories and you “the hobo” google searched SixtySixdaysofSarah because there’s been talk around town that the blog frequently compares things to hobos…and now you feel like a celebrity so congratulations! Now put that computer back where you found it…maybe leave the browser open to my blog though…I could always use more readers…) then you may not know that Abby Church is my roommate. Abby is a brilliant and successful Broadway actor/dancer/singer and a big supporter of mine. She follows my blog (and convinced several of her family members to follow my blog…Hi Church’s and in-laws of Church’s!), comes to all of my improv shows, and cleans the bathroom when I forget to. These are all good accounts of her awesomeness, but this Wednesday she went above and beyond toilet bowl cleaning. You see, on Wednesday night I had an Improv show that I was pretty nervous about. I’ve gotten to that place where it’s no longer impressive that I can stand on stage and talk. That jig is up. Now I’ve been doing it long enough where I should be hilarious and impressive at all times and am put on stage with people that have been doing improv for 10 years so I have to man up and be as crazy good as they are. Plus, my friends have already seen me do the easy stuff. It must be like babies and potty training where after they poop in the toilet for the first time the parents cheer, cry, and buy an ice cream cake, but every time the child uses the toilet there after is a snooze fest. I only assume this is how potty training goes as I have no idea how babies work (see Day 74: So I guess the Children are our future?). I did a fine job in the show, but I felt I didn’t fully step up to the plate and was under impressed with my work, so naturally I was a little bummed when I arrived at the after party and could not wait to grab a beer. Abby was waiting for me at the bar. She gave me a hug, told me I was awesome, and handed me a card. It was a business card and read:

Sarah Bullwinkle*

actress. writer. comedian. bad ass.

http://www.sixtysixdaysofsarah.com

time to make life a little more awesome.

I almost cried. She had an entire box of business cards made for me. And when I asked why, she said “‘Cause you’re the real deal.” This is why Abby Church is so awesome. Because it wasn’t my Birthday, or Christmas, or National Give Your Roommate a Gift so Great it Will Make Her Cry Day. But because she believes in me when sometimes I forget to believe in myself. I hope you all find an Abby Church in your lives…cause you can’t have mine!

*My last name has been changed to protect myself from computer thieving hobo’s.

Day 80: Last Friday Night…

Posted on March 22, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Matty Wilson)!

I don’t think Jesus knew what lay inside Pandora’s box when he invented certain things: cheese from a squirt can, a bra that holds an entire bottle of wine (see Day 52: Wine Rack Wednesday!) and the most evil/amazing service of them all…Netflix! I mean, sure, he did a great job by bringing us Tivo (remember Tivo? Or do you just remember Miranda Hobbes liking Tivo? or do you even appreciate that I google imaged Tivo so that I could show the proper color palette?), followed by DVR and Primetime on Demand, but even those inventions required a picking up of the remote to fast-forward through commercials or at least a good minute or two of watching pre-paid advertisements to convince us to spend our time watching other shows rather than playing with our children (error: you playing your children) or taking a stroll through the park (error: going to the liquor store). But then Jesus, the Devil, the creator of Popples, and Snowball (my albino bunny rabbit from growing up who always had menacing red eyes) got together for their weekly poker night and after a few Jameson shots came up with the idea of Netflix. Gone are the days where I would say things like “Don’t worry Abby, I’ll load the dishwasher during the next commercial break,” or “Ok, Sarah. If you’re going to spend your evening at home watching TV and eating Thai food, the least you can do is a few crunches whenever you see that adorable GEICO Gecko.” Yes America, the reason why we are fat with dirty dishes and un-taken-out recyclables is because of Netflix. And all because of Netflix, my last Friday night was spent NOT dancing on table tops, skinny dipping in the dark, or having a menage trois’ like adorable teen icon Katy Perry* would have recommended, but it was spent watching Netflix. Now, as I do realize that I need to write a blog about this experience (what could be more entertaining than someone writing about watching TV? Oh, I know…watching paint dry…or just watching TV yourself…duh) so instead of going for my usual RomCom or 15th episode of Arrested Development (I know! I got a late start on it, but this show is hilarious!) I decided to broaden my horizons a little bit with a documentary. After all, I am trying to improve my life here, and what better way to do that than to stay informed about the world around me. Plus you don’t have to read anything! The documentaries provide all of the one sided facts you need on any topic you could think of: food, sex, small super skinny third world country children with bugs constantly landing on their eyeballs, fat white guys who make beer/grow pot, or a little robot that cleans up our planet’s mess so us humans can go on a space cruise and drink food through a straw while losing bone density (ok, ok, that was Wall-E but it’s basically a documentary from the future. No? You don’t think so? Well no one asked you Snowball so take your creepy eyeballs and get out of here!) I started with one documentary, but quickly fell down the slippery slope of Netflix/humanity with 2 more and finally hit the bottom of the barrel…and my wine bottle. I’ve chosen to review these movies with a poem (because I’m super artsy and deep (that’s what he said!):

First up: Vegucated

Roses are red,

violets are blue.

Our planet is dying,

because of cow poo.

Second Up: Inside North Korea

(with that chick that was on the View a long time ago)

A haiku …

This sh*t is crazy

Don’t go to North Korea

Because you will die.

Now I needed something to cheer me up. My BF, Netflix, needed to show me something funny about the world we live in which brings me to our third and final movie…

3. Joan Rivers!

(is surprisingly sad)

There once was a woman named Joan,

whose face makes you just want to groan.

She still is alive,

at age seventy-five

But I’d much rather watch Home Alone.

I give up! This poor woman’s story should be so inspiring, but at the end of the day, it’s just as depressing as veal marsala, and North Korean karaoke parties.

And I’m done. Time to put on Wall-E, at least there’s a happy ending there…kind of.

Alright alright. I didn’t watch Wall-E (couldn’t figure out how to use the Blue Ray player when my roommate John is not here). I’ve thought about my night of documentaries and came up with a moral for these stories…well, two of them anyway. The Moral of Vegucated and Inside North Korea: It’s easy to ignore what’s happening in our world and to continue going on with our easy peazy lives. It’s a lot harder to stand up and fight or let alone recognize what’s happening to other people’s/animal’s rights, and I am very thankful for the people who produced these movies for pulling the wool from my eyes to show me what’s really going on in slaughter houses/North Korea (it’s odd how similar these 2 things are). All 12 of you reading this should totally watch these movies!

As far as Miss. Joan Rivers is concerned…

I commend her on working hard against all odds and paving the way for female comics. I just wish she wasn’t so sad all the time, but then again, she is human (64%) and should not have to be happy for the likes of me. I do really hate when I walk into a room without a smile on my face and then have a friend ask me “what’s wrong?” I get that I’m the life of the party 90% of the time (you’re welcome), but that doesn’t mean that I have to be it 100% of the time…does it? Now I feel horrible about wishing that Joan Rivers wasn’t so sad. I take it back! Be sad all you want sister! Live your life! Viva Las Vegas! So there’s my take away. Be who you are, and feel how you want to feel, and stop giving a f*ck about what anyone else has to say about it.

*If any of you would like to subscribe to my blog to get alerted when I write new posts so that you don’t have to rely on Facebook or that batman like shadow that I post in the sky, please do. I think there’s a ‘follow’ button somewhere.*

Day 74: So I guess “the Children are our Future?”

Posted on March 15, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Doug Smith)!

It’s time to let all of my fans out there know that I have come across a new job opportunity…

A. Argentinian Cardinal.

B. Mob wife of the MiddleWestSide.

C. Teaching dance to youths.

If you guessed C, you are correct (A and B are both just fantasy jobs that I create for myself while selling shots to 21 year old hoodlums)!

This new job opportunity situation all came about because my roommate John had been teaching kids to dance for like ever and had just booked a job that would take him out of the city for 4 months. Hold on…rewind…before we continue on with John’s story, you need a little background information about me: You see, I never really took a stab at teaching (stab is probably not the best term to use when speaking about teaching children… Let’s change that to “teaching has never really tickled my fancy”…wait no, that’s just as bad…in a gross way…Ok, how about “I never thought about becoming a dance teacher because) I was far too busy auditioning and performing as a professional dancer. Plus I always hated hearing that depressing advice: “Well, you could always teach,” which in my mind was the equivalent of saying: “You’re all washed up Sarah. Throw in the towel and get some use out of that diploma your mother and I are still paying for.” Now to be clear, my parents have never said that to me, nor has anyone else for that matter. It’s just one of those snarky little beliefs that I’ve had in my brain about teaching since I was a teenager. Which is completely silly because had I not had amazing teachers growing up, I wouldn’t be nearly as talented and successful as I am today (What? I AM talented and successful! What’s that? Yes, I did write a blog about only having 37 dollars to my name earlier this week. Success isn’t measured in money you d-bag! It’s measured in how many times you’ve been nominated for a Grammy in the category of Original Cast Recording,..which I have….one time…so basically I’m famous. Suck it.) I’ve taken a look at what I’ve been up to job wise since I “took a break” from musical theatre audition land, and thought that teaching a few classes here and there could be a good thing. It would definitely reduce the amount of time I spent working (and drinking) in bars. Ok, I’ll do it! Wait are you confused? I am, I wrote this blog in several nonsensical chunks before putting it together. And now, I’ve poured myself a glass of wine, so things could get messy. Let’s go back to where we left off with John…

Along with teaching tap, jazz, and ballet classes at a studio in Westchester, he was also the choreographer for a junior production of Tarzan. This is how it went down in our apartment after celebrating the news of his fabulous gig:

“I know,” he said to me from down the hall, “You could teach my classes and take over choreographing Tarzan!”

(notice the exclamation point).

“Sure,” I replied.

(notice lack of exclamation point).

I was sure that I could choreograph. I have always been a great choreographer. Proof: In college, I had choreographed and performed an interpretive dance solo to a monologue I wrote based on the mayoclinic.com website about correctly diagnosing hemorrhoids. It was a crowd favorite! Plus, I had been in Tarzan in Boston the summer before, so I was super familiar with the show and had already done my gorilla research (very important for Tarzan. Would you perform Cats without studying those kittens-playing-paddycake videos? The answer is NO. Just ask anyone that’s ever done Cats…that’s you Jessica Dillan!). So, choreography wasn’t the problem…it was the kids. Ok, let me re-phrase that. The kids weren’t necessarily problem. It was the I-haven’t-really-worked-with-kids-for-more-than-a-few-hours-in-my-entire-life that was the problem. Sure, I’ve subbed a class for a friend from time to time, or taught a weekend workshop, but at the end of the day, all I do is make the tikes laugh for a few hours and then move on with my life, never knowing or being responsible for any of them learning or growing beyond those few hours. But now, I have to care. I have to make sure they get better from week to week. And I do, I really do care. I just don’t know how kids work these days. I have no younger siblings, my cousins are all my age, and the only friends of mine that have offspring have babies, and all I know about babies is that I’m not supposed to shake them. I cannot for the life of me tell how old kids are anymore. And even if I find out how old they are, I have no idea what age’s know what things…

Here are some examples…

This is a picture of my roommate Abby’s adorable niece, Sadie.

Based on everything I know about children, Sadie is between 0 and 10 years old. She might know how to use the potty OR might know the square root of pi.

Here are 2 children I saw on the street today with their Mom (presumably).

I’m gonna say the one on the left is between 2 and 17, could be having trouble telling time OR is up to date on foreign policy. The little-er one may be mastering how to tie her shoes OR might be up to Chapter 7 in Fifty Shades of Grey .

After realizing it might be creepy (OR illegal) to photograph random children on the street, I went into Duane Reade for some more examples.

Here is a card I found of a little boy and a little girl looking all “old-timey” while having ironic dialogue bubbles coming out of their heads.

Let’s call them Dick and Jane.

Jane is either wetting her diaper, OR explaining how to make Dick’s bike more aerodynamic. Dick has either just discovered that he has a penis, OR is telling Jane to get back in the kitchen where she belongs (he was named Dick for a reason).

And PS you guys. How old is this Dora the Explorer gal anyway? Six? Quince? Taco?

Now here is a beautiful family that I found at TJ Max (along with a frame that I am considering buying for $12.99).

I think the little boy is between 9 and 19 and the little girl is between… wait…I’m going to go with 9 and 19 as well! They are twins. They both could know how to count to 100 OR the meaning of life. Hold up…those parents are looking between 25 and 40. That’s my age! Oh god, people my age have 19 year old spiritually-genius twins that can count to 100. I should just throw in the towel and call myself a spinster now. Ruby, it’s time we get some cats! I’ve got the perfect frame for our spinster family photo (if they take Discover).

Now that we’ve discovered that I am an idiot when it comes to children, I decided to take some time to get my s*it together and gather all of the hard core facts that I could find on kids…

Nailed it! I’m ready…

So children, after conducting hours of scientific research, I’ve concluded that if at the age of 12, Harry Potter can uncover the Chamber of Secrets and kill both a giant man-eating snake AND small soul-eating diary of a mass murderer, you all should be able to tendu from 5th position. And if Rue could stay alive through several days of the Hunger Games AND complete an elaborate ingenious plan to blow up the mountain of food hoarded by those d-bag kids from the mean districts, than you should be able to show me some double time steps! And for you other kids out there that are oddly large, small, slow, pimply, or clubfooted for your age, just take a look at our friends Neville Longbottom or even Peeta Mellark. Dancing may be the number one best thing on the planet, but Herbology and Cake Decorating run a close second.

PS: This is another card I found at Duane Reade. I like it even though I can’t tell if the kitten knows physics OR not…OR why it is drinking a martini…OR why it is an Easter Card?

PS: This is how you research Gorillas.

This is my buddy Vasthy and I in between Act I and II of performing Tarzan. The more you know (cue rainbow and shooting star).

Day 68: And then there was thirty-seven dollars…

Posted on March 11, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Dewey Caddell)!

And then there’s that one day when you look at your bank account and only have 37 dollars to your name. You think…

“Wow Sarah. 30 years old and all you have to show for it is these measly 37 dollars. It looks like your hitting life right out of the park!”

And it’s not like you are going to have only $37 forever. In fact, you’re waiting on some unemployment money and picking up a few checks tomorrow. Plus you are working at a rowdy bar on 5th Avenue on St. Patricks day where you are sure to make some sweet cash in-between dodging the bar fights and underage vomitting. Then you take a second to re-read everything you’ve written in this post so far and think to yourself that you might want to take a look at your career path. You consider that maybe if you went back to the way things were and you had a Musical gig lined up like your roommate John, you wouldn’t need to worry about your 37 dollar dilemma because starting on Monday you would be working a solid 36 hours a week tap dancing, receiving health insurance, and rolling in a steady paycheck for $800 or so dollars a week while subletting your apartment in Manhattan. Plus, once the show goes up you’d only be working 24 hours a week and have plenty of free time to go to the gym and be all skinny again. But as you take a sip of tea (wine) out of your “How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying” coffee mug, you remember that the last time you did a show you had more fun being silly in the dressing room and playing practical jokes on the cast then you did performing your ensemble track. But at least you had money. Well, not that much money. You had lots ‘o money when you were on Broadway, but that only lasted a year and you spent all of it on steak dinners, Betsy Johnson dresses, and taxis. Then you get a little bit happier about the fact that you no longer eat meat because tofu is way less expensive than a steak dinner. But then you have become counter productive yet again because you remember that you could easily go to the McDonald’s and pick up like 7 burgers for 99 cents but anything tofu based is at least 8 dollars…plus you have to go home and cook it…then you remember that your only good pan is in the dishwasher and then think that you should probably have more than one decent pan to cook with and start shopping online for pans but then are reminded about the $37 dollar budget that you have for the next 36 hours and get sad all over again. Then you make a list (because that’s what you like to do, and let’s face it, you need some inexpensive cheering up right now) about all the things that could happen to you in the next 36 hours that require more than 37 dollars.

Possible things that could happen in the next 36 hours that would require more than $37

Living Social offers a $39 dollar deal where you receive a bottle of Pinot Noir…everyday…for life.

A mysterious stranger has lost his wallet and needs $38 for a cab ride home to his mansion inside the Statue of Liberty and is willing to trade you his beach house in Fiji for that $38 cab fare but only if you have exactly 38 dollars.

Your dog swallows a mousetrap.

Your agent calls you with an audition for a Colgate commercial but you can’t afford the Crest 3D Whitestrips to erase the evidence of last nights Pinot Noir extravaganza…then wonder if Colgate has a cheaper version of whitening strips and if they did, why haven’t you heard of them? Maybe it’s not worth going to this audition after all. Sounds like Colgate needs to get their s*it together anyway.

Your dog swallows a clock radio.

You get invited by a well known ex-rapper to an exclusive dinner party where Missy Misdemeanor Elliott performs her One-Night-Only-I’m-out-of-retirement-and-singing-“I Can’t-Stand-the-Rain”-for-all-of-my-adoring-fans-that-were-obsessed-with-that-song-in-middle-school and you realize that your black garbage bag dress is still at the tailors with a steep up charge of $40 from when you spilled cocktail sauce on it at your last ex-rapper dinner party.

Your dog swallows a chocolate fountain.

The “Hey! You have a face that kind of looks like Tapanga from the popular 90’s teen sitcom Boy Meets World” contest is taking place on the Upper West Side with a $40 entrance fee and the grand prize is a date with the kid who played Minkus who is surprisingly hot and rich now*

Your dog swallows your 37 dollars.

If any of these things happened before I picked up my paycheck tomorrow, I would be super sad. I hate how money dictates my life. I guess maybe the answer is that I should not let money dictate my life. That’s it. Ok, I’m glad we talked this out. Bring it in for a hug. I’m going to borrow a buck from my roommate and take a cab to a very exclusive mansion inside the Statue of Liberty.

*I know you all just googled Minkus from Boy Meets World.

*He is not hot now.

Day 50something: Don’t Cry for me ArgenTINA!!

Posted on March 6, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Caitlin Maura)!

If we go back eons (or just 3 months ago) you’ll notice that I have a little thing (in an admiring way…not a gay way…not that I would throw her out of bed because she would probably just lay there saying hilarious things all night…and bring along a sandwich) for the one and only

Tina Fey…

In fact, one of my goals before the End of the World (this blog originally began as a bucket list of things I wanted to do before D-day/December 21st…I also tried my first raw oyster…impressed?) was to meet her. I even went so far as to send her an invitation to Thanksgiving dinner in the shape of a

hand turkey…

And when that didn’t work I spent an entire Sunday afternoon at the restaurant where a friend had told me she saw her having brunch one time…

She never showed.

(Side note: You’ll notice I wore a very calculated outfit in the hopes that we would be wearing the same sweater so I could say “Hey! Same sweater! Did you plan this..wink wink? Let’s be friends. I wear glasses for distance.”)

And thanks to a treaty made with the Space Zombies, the world did not end ( everyone knows it was the Space Zombies that were after us…not the Mayans…duh) and I now had an infinite amount of time to meet Tina Fey, find her on Facebook, and wear those little heart necklaces where her’s says “Best” and mine says “Friends 4 Eva”. With no deadline in sight, I could finally relax. I turned 30, reevaluated my life and started making new goals for myself. I re-read The Secret and created a vision board of all of the things I wanted for my future, and as you can see…

Tina was still there, right at the top!

(and oddly enough, the Family Guy episode featuring Ryan Reynolds came on that night…his picture is on the right had cork-board-flower petal because he is going to be my pool boy…when I get really rich and buy a pool…for my rooftop…of my very own Manhattan Skyscraper…that only has 4 floors because I’m kinda afraid of heights…)

I added in some more Improv classes to my schedule, continued to work on my screenplay, and started saving my pennies so that soon I could take and acting for TV and Film course. All of which are things I believe Tina would be proud of. I kept trucking along and one day, as luck would have it, I got the call. My friend Sarah’s husband Andrew was a personal trainer in the city and just happened to be the personal-trainer-of-James-Lipton’s-wife’s-boss (say that 5 times fast). She had been offered tickets for a very special Inside the Actors Studio, but was going to be out of town and asked Andrew if he had any friends that might be interested. And lucky for me Andrew is a big fan of my blog,

so…

on Tuesday March 26th, I was invited to a filming of Inside the Actors Studio with guest artist…my hero…Tina Fey!

And like any good student (stalker) I took some notes that I would like to share with you.

Here are my favorite quotes from the evening:

“Only in mid 90’s comedy does an obedient white girl from the suburbs count as diversity.” -when asked to interview for a writing position at SNL, as Lorne was looking for diversity.

“Do you want me, or do you want (me to do) Will Ferrell’s me?” – James Lipton when asked to perform as himself in a film.

“Fuck it. They can’t fire me. I don’t work here anymore.” –when approached by SNL to do Sarah Palin.

“Writing is tedious, painful, and boring until it’s done. Then it’s Thrilling.” – when asked about her process.

“These sketches were not just funny, they were history.” – James Lipton on Tina’s Sarah Palin sketches.

“He’s a hilarious character actor in a leading man’s skull.” – when asked about working with Alec Baldwin.

“They have to talk fast and not paraphrase.” – on auditioning actors for 30 Rock.

“Shhhh…don’t speak.“ – what her father said to her after a stranger had stabbed her in the face.

“Shitballs.” – when asked what her favorite curse word was.

“Your job is to be a director. Your job is not to teach people that women can be directors” – when asked about women working in a man’s world.

“Talent is not sexually transmitted. You don’t have to have sex with someone talented to get talent.” – when giving advice to the female acting majors.

“You’re roommates with Oprah!” – when asked what she hoped God would say to her when he met her at the Pearly Gates.

“Don’t eat Lean Cuisines.” – more advice about working with men.

“The nice thing about improv is you learn how to fail. Five times out of ten it’s going to be terrible. Failing in front of an audience. You know it’s not going to kill you.” – on the benefits of Improv.

“Clearly defined characters from the beginning. Give everyone a clear point of view. 4 white girls living in an apartment. Not so clear.” – on the success of writing for 30 Rock.

“Laughter” – when asked what was her turn on.

“Cowardice” – when asked what was her turn off.

“If I was just an actress none of this would have happened.” – the reason that I get a lady boner for her.

And just a few other fun facts

Did you know…?

In High School Tina wrote an anonymous comedy column for her school newspaper.
She met Amy Poehler in an Improv Company called Improv Olympic.
Darrell Hammond was actually the first SNL player to try James Lipton, but when it bombed Will Ferrell asked if he could have a stab at it.
Lorne Michael’s doorman was the first to offer that Tina Fey looked an awful lot like Sarah Palin.

Although I did not get to actually meet Tina (yet), I had a wonderful time listening to her speak. She is everything I hoped she would be. She likes the word shitballs and has done a damn good job for us women in the industry. Oh yeah, and my vision board worked mutha fu*k@’s!

Shout out to my amazing friends Sarah Marie Jenkins Briedis and Andrew Briedis! You are my heroes!

(And that giant line of people are all of the students that waited outside for 6 hours in order to see the filming. Which makes me glad that I am 30 and thanks to Andrew and Sarah, a VIP!)

Day 55: P is for Progress…

Posted on February 23, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Lisa Rohinsky)!

It looks like things are looking up. I’ve just been hired to write the weekly newsletter for my favorite Improv family (http://www.Improvolution.org) , I have a meeting with the founder of a new comedy website coming up in a few days, and I have something really awesome planned for this Tuesday that I would love to share with you all but I don’t want to jinx it so your just going to have to wait. (No, it’s not a date Mom. Yes, I’m sure there are plenty of nice boys out there. Leave me alone. No, I’m not going to end up a cat lady. I don’t even like cats. If anything I’ll be a dog lady…or an alcoholic.) So now that I’m on a pretty good writing path, I thought it would be fun to share with you a little insight about my writing process. See, I’m always looking for things to write about. Some of them are good ideas, and some of them are not so good. Let’s take a look at the blog posts that didn’t quite make the cut…

Day 17: Blow me!

The day I gave Ruby a blow dry.

Day 35: How long has that been in your hole?

The day I cleaned out the mysterious hole in the office at work…

Day 23: If a Ebenezer Scrooge was contacted in a Chinese Restaurant…

The day my fortune cookie freaked me out.

Day 37: Excuse me dear, how much to check this penis?

The day I checked really weird stuff while working coat check…

Day 50: S is for Solidification…

The day Ruby finally took a solid poop…

Day 21: Ouch, my carbon foot print just kicked Earth in the nuts.

The day I discovered that my printer has been plugged in for the past 7 years without ever using it because it ran out of ink…in 2006.

Day 2: I’m too afraid to jump!

The day I almost tested my parents memory foam mattress like they do on the infomercial.

Day 53: I wanna get wit’ ya, mami. Now let me see where the lord split ya?

The day I got drunk while listening to a Pitbull song and took a picture of my split ends.

So there you have it. Not every idea is a good idea, but just like they say in the Lottery,

“You gotta play to win!”

Day 52: Wine Rack Wednesday!

Posted on February 21, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Nikki De Lapenta)!

As all of you are loyal readers of my blog (or you just checked this site out hoping to find 66 different sex positions of Sarah…which you won’t…because there’s only 2…and why would I call it SixtySixdaysofSarah if it was about sex positions you weirdo? I would call it SixtySixSexPositionsofSarah…someone’s totally going to steal that idea…I want 5% of it’s earnings you perverts!), you know that I had a major realization on Tuesday, which was:

I’ve been spending all of my energy focusing on the things that I don’t want in my life and haven’t even scratched the surface of the things I do want in life.

I needed to admit to myself (and to all of you Nosy McNosersons) what my big goals were. And naturally, those goals consisted of becoming a rich and famous actor/screenwriter/novelist/world leader. So on Wednesday I set my eyes on the prize and got to work…

“Desire is the key to motivation, but it’s determination and commitment to an unrelenting pursuit of your goal- a commitment to excellence -that will enable you to attain the success you seek.”

-Mario Andretti

Special shout out to Abby Church for helping me out…and for filling her Wine Rack with G & T’s!

PS: no joke you guys. You can buy this s*it on Amazon.com. I prefer to give them as wedding gifts. Holla Kelly Cwalina McKew!

PPS: Amazon.com should totally give me money for promoting them.

Day 50: The rapist Tuesday…

Posted on February 19, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Nici Dani)!

This post has nothing to do with rapists. I just stole The Rapist joke from the Saturday Night Live Celebrity Jeopardy sketch where Sean Connery (Darrell Hammond) choses the “Therapists” category but instead says “The Rapists”. It’s quite funny, and terrible all at the same time. This blog post title does however have to do with me self-therapizing myself today. You see loyal readers, I had myself a realization walking home from the gym today. It would have been quite an “eye opener” had it not been raining this afternoon, because based on what I remember from elementary school science is that rain water comes from the clouds which some how absorb that water from the rivers and lakes and if you’ve seen the Hudson there’s no way you would want to open your eyes in the rain here…unless your pupils are craving rat feces. What is this realization you ask? Hold your horses! I’ll get to it after I show you how adorable Ruby is sleeping on the couch behind me…

Ok, realization time…

I started this blog originally because I was afraid of the world ending. Then when the world did not end (thank you Jesus…and Space Zombies), it evolved into a search for a happier healthier life (while the Space Zombies are at bay). You know, turning the page to find a new chapter of Sarah? And it’s been a fantastic journey so far. I’ve stepped back and had a long hard (that’s what she said) look at my life and started making some changes…

I don’t want to look like this anymore…

So I started dancing, eating right, and going to the gym.

I don’t want to be a slave to Musical Theatre anymore…

So I stopped auditioning.

I didn’t want to live like a teenage slob anymore…

So I reorganized and painted my bedroom.

I don’t want to stress out anymore…

So I started meditating…

Then, as I was brain storming for my next post on the way home from the gym, I finally noticed this pattern. The problem is… I’ve been spending all of my energy focusing on the things that I don’t want in my life and haven’t even scratched the surface of the things I do want in life. Woah. Go ahead readers. Get out the dustpan to sweep up the pieces of your mind that has just been blown.

I started to honestly think about what it is I want in life, and not just the “I want to be happy” or “I want to be more stability” or “Can I just get some health insurance please?” things. I started to think of my actual specific goals, the concrete things, and you know what? I scared the s*it out of myself. You see, I think that if I admit to myself or anyone else what I want, what I really truly want, and I don’t achieve it, then I will have failed. And who wants to be a failure? Isn’t life just easier if you don’t admit to what you want so that you don’t have to work really hard to get it, because if you don’t work really hard then you can’t blame yourself when you fail because you never tried anyway? I mean, maybe I’m not good enough to achieve anything beyond being that girl that was on Broadway once and now thinks she’s a writer. Well Sarah, what’s the point of surviving the apocalypse (and Space Zombies) if you’re just gonna keep spinning on that hamster wheel? It’s time to get down to business.

Here’s what I want for my future…(laugh all you want).

I want the world to read what I write.

I want to be in a movies.

I want to write movies.

I want to write books.

I want to create comedy.

I want to be a billionaire…so freakin’ bad.

And why the Hell not?! Tina Fey did it. Mindy Khaling did it. That girl who wrote that show Girls that I don’t really like all that much (the show, not the writer) but good for her did it. I can do it. It’s time to stop running away from the don’ts and start running like Hell for the do’s.

Day 44: A love letter…

Posted on February 14, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

A love letter for my old lovers…because it’s Valentines Day.

Dear Karl L.: Thanks for picking me up at my house (down the old dirt road from your house) for our 5th grade graduation dance.

Dear Chris K.: Thank you for standing up to Ronald Robinson (who threatened to beat you up if you asked me out) and asking me out. And thank you for dumping me…at the ice rink…because I wouldn’t French you.

Dear Ellie (jewish boy name): Thank you for asking me to homecoming 3 months after I started having a crush on you. Sorry I didn’t French you. I would have 3 months earlier.

Dear Virginity Taker : Thank you for Frenching me. And thank you for taking my V-card and dumping me 2 weeks later…on the beach. No hard feelings. Somebody had to “do it” (get it…”do it” tee hee hee).

Dear Graham H: thank you for not dumping me when I got the same haircut as you. And thank you for posing like this at Prom. And thank you for going along with my “edgy” phase. Sorry I dumped you when you came to visit me at college…and you had to ride home with my Mom…for 4 hours…in her Jeep Grand Cherokee.

Dear guy from Portland Oregon: Thank you for not telling me that you had a giant tattoo of a peacock on your back. It was a lovely surprise the next morning. And you were right. Real men DO paint their houses purple.

Dear Hugh Laurie (from the popular hospital drama House): Thank you for holding my hand in my dream last night. My parent’s were quite charmed by your British accent and your time travelling speed boat.

Dear Tall Ex-boyfriend: Thank you for giving me a topic to discuss with little old ladies when you left the table at the restaurant to go to the bathroom…”why yes, he did play basketball in college…and yes…everything is in proportion …enjoy your sherbert.”

Dear bald guy that I went on a date with: “So you’re a cop? And your last 2 partners were both Capricorns? Fascinating. Your father is Italian-Irish and your mother is Irish-Lithuanian? Neat. So your first pet was a lizard named Lizzie and you’re afraid of Snuffaluffagus from Sesame Street because when you were little you had a nightmare that he ate Lizzie? And you think your cousin might be gay…because he painted his house purple? You’re probably right. No, I’m not from around here…which you would know…If you asked me a question about myself in the last 2 hours.”

Dear Tim the bartender: Sorry I had to leave the next morning because I had an appointment to try on wedding dresses. I had a blog…and the world was going to end…long story.

Dear Mom: Don’t worry about me. I think it’s going to work out with Hugh Laurie.

Day 38: I meditated the s*it out of her…

Posted on February 10, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Devon Goffman)!

You know how sometimes you don’t hear about a particular thing for a really long time, and all of a sudden 17 people you know mention that particular thing to you? Like last month it was Ithaca brewing companies (Goose Island is pretty damn good), and sometime last year it was Banana Grams (which is basically Scrabble*…but instead of having a board to play on, you have a banana shaped sack (giggle) and use jargon like “split” and “peel” when you make a move). Well, this past month the word I keep hearing over and over again is meditation. All of my self help books (youtube videos) are mentioning the amazing benefits from it, it seems that like half of my friends are doing it, and I swear a feral cat was chanting “OHMMMM…” at me as I was walking down an abandoned ally last week (I’m lying, it was 96th street, and the cat may have been a large piece of steel wool). And funny enough, a friend that I haven’t seen in a while posted an event invitation for a free talk about meditation. I figured, with my whole Vision Board and P-gan thing I’m already halfway on the tree-hugger train (although I’m sure they wouldn’t use a train…probably a covered wagon…but pulled by a white guy named Leon…they wouldn’t want to upset any horses by making them work…even though that’s what horses are for…if they weren’t working they’d probably be glue-factorying…did I mention that I won a Blue Ribbon in Pony Club?), so I figured I’d stop by my friend Shannon O’bryan’s talk and see what this whole meditation thing was about.

Side note: I’m not the kind of person that gets talked into things very easily. I’m just like all of you other cold hearted New Yorkers who pretend that you don’t speak English when a person on the sidewalk in a blue polo shirt and 3 ring binder asks you if you have a minute for planned parenthood. Don’t even try to tempt me to join your “new data plan” verizon wireless, because no, I don’t need a “free gift” of 500 extra anytime minutes to use when I only use 47 minutes of actual phone calls as is. And NO, Wholefoods, I don’t care if tumeric juice is the new beverage that’s going to ward off cancer, is a natural endorphin booster and tastes delicious…ok, I’ll buy it. But NOT because you talked me into it…but because I don’t want cancer…and it’s tasty…and the guy that talked me into buying it was kind of cute and not wearing a wedding ring. So, I went into my “Intro to meditation chat” and just like with turmeric juice…I got sucked in.

Benefits of Meditation

1. Lowers stress.

2. Improves health.

3. Helps focus the mind.

4. Gives you something to talk about when people start discussing earthy tree-hugging s*it like beard growing and tumeric-juice when you’re in a far off land known as Brooklyn.

So I signed up for a 4 day meditation class…that I couldn’t afford…but was sure that the Universe was going to send me the funds some how…

Day 1 of Meditation class: Shannon performs a lovely ceremony about thanking all of the teachers that came before her.

We learn the basics of meditation and are instructed to meditate later that evening and again in the morning before coming to Day 2.

Day 2 of Meditation Class: 3am

My dog Ruby jumps off the bed and starts scratching at the door. There is a terrible smell. Ruby has shat all over my bed. I throw on some clothes and take her down the hall only to find…

I pick up my sh*tting dog, scramble down 6 flights of stairs to take her out, thinking how could this day get any worse…and just like it always does when you think things like “how could this day get any worse” it does. Because it is snowing…and your dog won’t stop leaking…in Central Park at 3 am… which is exactly when and where the murderers and hobos hang out…and you remember that the elevator is out and you have to carry your leaky dog up 6 flights of stairs. 2 hours later I texted my meditation coach that I couldn’t come to Day 2 of Meditation class because my dog was now puking and s*itting which made her lighter to carry up and down 6 flights of stairs but was really inconvenient otherwise.

Day 3 of Meditation Class: Poor poor Ruby Pubey

Ruby is leaking every 2 hours today and is being fed water through an eye dropper because she won’t drink it herself. Any normal person would take their dog to the vet under these circumstances, but I am not a normal person. I am poor out of work actor, freelance shot seller, and vision board enthusiast who believes that money is coming her way…just apparently not today. So we give it another 24 hours to see if the leaking stops. I text my meditation coach that I will not be able to make it to class until my dog stops peeing out of her but hole. Namaste.

Day 4 of Meditation Class: Stool sample.

So now we’ve had 4 days of bodily fluids pouring out of my adorable little dog and only 20 minutes of meditation….I’m lying. I only really meditated for 3 minutes because it’s really hard to concentrate when you’re worried that your dog is going to die by way of organs coming out of her butt hole because someone told you that that had happened to their Uncle’s dog one time. I call my meditation coach again and she says “F*ck you Sarah! You think Ghandi quit meditating over a little fecal matter?! You’re never going to be a meditator and your life is going to be stupid! What’s that? I put the “h” in the wrong place in Gandhi’s name. What are you, the spiritual-leader-spell-check-police?! I hope your dog s*its out it’s organs like that girls Uncle’s dog did that one time! Go f*ck yourself!” (she did not say any of that…she told me I could just come to class next week).

Back to Ruby…. so my roommate Abby suggests that I call her cousin who is a vet in Boston. He says that since the Rubinator (that’s what I call her sometimes. I think it’s clever. Sometimes I call her Rubinator pie…and if she’s being bad, Rubinator pie-hole…I’m never going to get married…) hadn’t thrown up since early that morning and now had enough energy to bark at my other roommate John as he vacuumed the hallway that I could just take a stool sample into the vet to make sure she hadn’t contracted a parasite. Unfortunately in order to get the sample and get to the vet I had to take the night off work. Which is totally fine because The Secret says I just have to believe that money is on it’s way and I will be rich…right?

Yep, that’s poop. You’re welcome.

Day 5: Ruby is feeling much better and is really into boiled chicken and rice mixed with cottage cheese. I will attend Days 2-4 of Meditation class next week and let you know how it goes. Who knows..maybe I can start writing this blog via my mind instead of this computer…which I’m still paying off…so I might as well just type it and let my enlightened mind do other useful stuff…like laundry and that vagina dance move that Beyonce did at the Superbowl. Namaste.

*Scrabble is what us old people call Words with Friends.

Day 36: 33 is half of 66…incase you’re an idiot.

Posted on February 6, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

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Day 36: 33 is half of 66…incase you’re an idiot.

Posted on February 5, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Bob Richard)!

So, today is the halfway point of starting the new habit that is “NO dairy and NO Coke Zero.”

It’s been 33 days since I gave up both, and research has shown that it takes 66 days to kick a habit or start a new one. Which is pretty convenient given the name of my blog (which is a relief because I had no idea what I was going to do with this whole 66-days-till-the-end-of-the-world-but-then-the-end-of-the-world-didin’t-happen-so-what-the-eff-is-my-blog-going-to-be-about-now-?-thing…plus I don’t have any money to buy a new domain name…nor am I creative enough to think another one up). So today is the check in point of how my life is as an Aspartameless P-gan….

What’s a P-gan? It’s a Pescetarian Vegan/a word I completely made up. What’s a Pescetarian you say? A really hot chick that doesn’t eat meat but still eats seafood. What’s a vegan? A really hot chick that doesn’t eat any animals or products produced by animals. In conclusion, a P-gan is a really hot chick who doesn’t eat meat, still eats seafood, but doesn’t eat any dairy products, and is really hot. Oh, I already mentioned really hot? Well, it just needed to be mentioned again for all of you hot single guys that read my blog (there are no hot single guys that read my blog…well maybe they do…until I start talking about my diet…and farts…I won’t talk about farts…girls don’t fart…well some do…the really mean ones fart all of the time…I’m not mean) and might be weirded out by a girl that you can’t take out for a burger even though she will gladly drink beer and eat french fries while you chomp on your rotting animal carcass so why don’t you just go ahead and ask me out already?

Pro’s about being a P-gan and quitting Aspartame

1. Your farts are nicer (as opposed to mean farts…don’t pretend you don’t know what a mean fart is…it’s exactly what you think it is…that’s the last time I talk about farts…how am I still single?).

2. You have more energy and need less sleep at night.

3. You’re skin is clearer.

4. You’re generally happier (not that you were depressed before, but for some reason you are super happy most of the time now…probably because of the nicer farts).

5. You get to explain what a P-gan is to people who seem really surprised that it has nothing to do with penises.

Cons about being a P-gan and quitting Aspartame

1. You gained a pound (which I’m sure has nothing to do with not working out and drinking beer instead…and remember that time when you said you were going to do 100 crunches a day? Yeah, well that only worked for 2 days fat ass…get your sh*it together…you’ve got 3 weddings to go to this year…by yourself…so it’ time to stop being polite and start getting real…this is the real world…Upper-upper-upper Westside).

2. People are disappointed that the word P-gan has nothing to do with penises.

Now, to be fair, I have to admit that I’m only about 90% P-gan as I did eat crawfish chowder 2 weeks ago and I’m pretty sure there was some butter in the mussels I ordered last night. And I guess I’m only 85% Aspartameless too because I’ve still been chewing some spearmint Orbit gum which I’m pretty sure has aspartame in it, but I haven’t found any gum that hasn’t. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m a complete fraud and you shouldn’t listen to anything I have to say and that all of my lying is probably the reason that I gained a pound. But I swear I haven’t had a diet soda since January 3rd, which was my 30th birthday, which was 33 days ago. Oh, and I may not be as hot as I previously mentioned…

Day 33: Punxsutawney Philly

Posted on February 2, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Drew Humphrey)!

In honor of Groundhog’s day (the movie…not the actual day) I’ve decided to repeat a day over in order to mark another item off of my bucket list before the world ends (this blog originally started 66 days before the end of the world, December 21st….silly Mayans…and was about getting everything I’ve always wanted to do done before we were taken over by space zombies). I have decided to go back in time (I did not go back in time) and repeat November 15th 2012 (not really) to do a quite amazing thing that I’ve never been able to do before…

I got a free soup at Hale and Hearty by using my frequent customer punch card thing!

This may not seem like a big deal to some of you highly organized (you don’t lose these punch cards when you have say 8 of the 10 punches punched out) or super wealthy (you can afford 11 full priced soups) people out there, but it is to me. I’ve been dreaming of the day that I could walk up to this stoic (and slightly annoyed) soup lady and say, “I’ve filled my punch card! May I please have my free soup! Hold on. I think I have enough punches. Wait. Just let me find it. I know it’s here somewhere. I left it right next to my Regal Cinema’s rewards card. You can get free candy on Tuesdays with it. Whoops. No. That was a subway card…the restaurant…not the mode of transportation that is highly inefficient on weekends and holidays…and Mondays-Fridays after 9pm…and when you’re running really late to work and all that’s running are stupid express trains….Oh crap, my subway card is expired. Do your punch cards expire here? They do? Dang. I hope mine isn’t expired. Give me just a second. Nicole, would you hold this? No it’s just an empty case. There’s no gum in there. Remind me to get some gum on the way home. No, spearmint starts to taste like an old stale gin and tonic after a while. I like the sweet mint, yeah it’s kind of like you’re chewing on some mint chocolate chip ice cream. Yeah, I’m still off dairy. No, I don’t miss it too much. I fart less. Ahhh! Here it is Miss. One free soup! Thank you so much for your patience. I really mean it from the bottom of my Hearty! Get it? Because you work at Hale and Hearty? It’s a play on words. Ok, yes I’ll keep moving. Jeez, you really should get a sense of humor. Nope, there’s not a snowball’s chance in Hale that you are going to find me amusing, huh? Have a nice day.”

It was great day spent with a medium sized (now that I think of it, I’m an idiot. Who doesn’t get the large size soup when it’s FREE?! Stupid Sarah) 3 lentil chili soup, and my awesome friend Nicole Mangi! Nicole recently moved with her husband out to LA and was in town for a visit before she headed to New Orleans for the big Power Ball game tomorrow (where her husband is the set designer for ESPN…I think) Nicole and I have known each other since Gypsy on Broadway (did I mention I was on Broadway? Oh, I did? Quite a few times? It’s getting old? It sounds like I’m bragging? I played on a softball league with Patti LuPone’s son. Ok, I’ll stop).

(Broadway)

Yes, we started the trend of teenie-tiny hats.

We had an amazing conversation about life, the business of show (a fancy way of saying ‘showbiz’ if you didn’t catch that. If you didn’t catch that you should probably go and hang out at Hale and Hearty on 55th and 8th. You’ve got a friend behind the counter) and life after 30. It’s really comforting to know that you’re not crazy and that other people are facing challenges with moving onto different avenues of life. And also really comforting that someone else has my same affinity for soup on a cold day…

Even though this post was meant to happen before the end of the world (which didn’t happen….clearly….or else it did and I’m in a weird Truman Show sociological experiment…I’ll know for sure if I run into that guy that played Biff in the Back to the Future movies today….cause he was in the Truman Show… which is a movie…starring Jim Carrey….rent it…I digress…again), I had another great day of pointing my life in the right direction by hanging out with an amazing friend…who promised she would become a subscriber to my blog. You guys out there should probably subscribe too. Or else you may miss one of my life changing events here. Like earning a free soup.

Big shout out to Nicole Mangi, the soup lady, and the Baltimore Ravens. Let’s kick some Wild Cat ASS tomorrow!! What’s that? They’re not playing the Wild Cats? Who are the Wild Cats anyway? Oh, they’re from High School Musical aren’t they. Oh well. Let’s give it up for Zac Efron…

Day 31: I take two steps forward and pas de bourre back..

Posted on January 31, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Tree Sarvay)!

As most of you know, I’ve been a dancing since I was 5, and then got paid to dance by age 21…

Just kidding! This is actually a picture from one of my first paid gigs. And yes, I am dressed as laundry detergent. This is what happens in musical theatre…just go with it.

I’m in this weird place where I do still love to dance, but am pretty sure that I want to pursue other things in life. I’m ready to explore the other crap that I’m into. I really like comedy, and writing, and improv, and possibly producing, and drinking wine, and throwing Christmas/Oktoberfest/Toga parties, but haven’t picked a direction to go in for my new career. While I’m still working on that, I have missed dancing and the way my body looks and feels as a dancer (just look at that picture…no not the one of me…the one of those 2 Daddy-left-them-when-they-were-7-plus-30-year-old-metabolism-and-gravity-hasn’t-hit-them-yet-pole-dancers, they’re hot!). As you all know, I’ve started taking ballet class on Saturday afternoons, which is making me totally happy (and given Duane Reade a rapid spike in Aleve, IcyHot, and Sierra Nevada sales), but I have been missing good old fashioned jazz class. Which is why when my roommates suggested we all take Intermediate/Advanced theatre jazz class taught by none other than the Randy Skinner, I said OK.

All you need to know about Randy Skinner

1. He’s a badass old school “song and dance” choreographer (think Fred Astaire’s twin…or son…I’m not really sure how old Randy is…so maybe he’s more like if Gene Kelly* and Fred Astaire* got legally married and had a son…via surrogate Shirley Temple*…after she turned 18 because no one wants to be accused of “date-surrogate-rape”…that baby would be Randy Skinner).

2. He choreographed a bunch of musicals including White Christmas, which I performed in the holiday seasons of 05′, 06′, and 07′. Side note: he has not hired me since which I don’t hold against him. I’m sure it was just some mix-up with casting…or they finally found that box of props I drew penises on.

3. Any time Randy teaches a class in New York City, 400 people show up and 399 of them are there in the hopes to get hired by him…

and this was the component that made me a little weary taking class. I haven’t seen a lot of these people in the last 6 months and I was apprehensive about two things. One being that I would have to explain that the reason I haven’t seen them was that I was basically quitting business, and the second being that I haven’t really danced (besides my 2 old lady ballet classes) since June, and was worried that I was going to suck a big bag of balls in front of everyone….

This is my apprehension face.

Luckily by time class started I got over myself.

No one took offense to me taking a break from the business. Everyone was really supportive (plus, there’s one less 5’4” blonde alto tap dancer in the audition pool, so you’re welcome ladies). And I finally remembered this key element of life: people are always way more concerned about what they’re doing than what you’re doing. I’m living proof! Right now, I’m sitting here writing a blog all about me! If I wanted, I could give the play-by-play about the pimple on my forehead right now (tried to pop it last night but only a little came out…hopefully tonight will be a mirror splattering adventure). That’s not to say that we are self centered s*it-heads and don’t care about other people. We do (otherwise why would the 4 of you be reading this post anyway…and why do I keep following other peoples blogs about the art of cat sweaters? And duh, FACEBOOK! The place where you can stalk anyone you want! Even though we only tag pictures of ourselves where we look good, regardless of if our friend has a muffin top or is passed out in a pool of their own vomit). I just need to keep in mind for myself, that just because I do things like take a dance class, it doesn’t mean that all 399 people in the room are wondering weather or not I’ve still got it (I totally still got it).

So, to keep bettering my life (spellcheck didn’t correct bettering so I’m going to go with it as being a real word), I’m going to still take class, and see my theatre friends, and stop worrying about whether people are judging me and especially stop judging myself for whatever I plan on doing next. Even if it is to become a transgendered hobo (it’s not to become a transgendered hobo).

Great class ladies!

F me! This is gonna hurt tomorrow.

*If you don’t know who any of these people are, please jump on a mini trampoline for 37 minutes, and immediately drink an entire bottle of tabasco sauce…the green one. Good, now you’ve learned your lesson.

Day 29: I’m blue daba de daba “Hi guys”!

Posted on January 30, 2013 by sixtysixdaysofsarah

Hey there adoring fans (Nikki Della Penta)!

Sorry I’ve been absent for a few days. I know! You all want to find out what life is like after the ballet class that I wrote about in my last post. This post isn’t about that, but I can give you “just the tip” of what life feels like after ballet class: pain, suffering, happiness, fulfillment, a few depressing body issues, and thirst…for a beer (to dullen the pain of body issues…which probably worsens the body issues because instead of opting for a light beer that tastes like a mixture of donkey pee and deceit or even a glass of I don’t know…water…you have chosen to pick an IPA that has at least a 6% alcohol content and tastes like a mixture of denial and that carpenter from 2007…no I don’t have a problem…so stop asking…). Now let’s move on. My bedroom/office renovation is in full swing…and is taking FOREVER.

Last week, Abby and I headed to Home Depot on 23rd street to buy some paint. As I have previously mentioned on Day 12: The Vision Board (you haven’t read that post?! Usually this is the part where I get angry at you and say that you’re never going to become an adoring fan that way, but I’m now realizing that I probably shouldn’t scold the 14 readers I have and just update you that on Day 12: The Vision Board….I created a vision board) I decided to remodel my bedroom after Carrie Bradshaw’s bedroom in the Sex and the City movie. (yes, the first one…duh). I was lead to this decision by a few variables.

Reasons I’m painting my room Blue

1. My friend Rebecca entered my birthday into some sort of Chinese website and found that water was my best element, (and Dog is my animal…who knew? That guy that I let get to 3rd base in the bathroom of a PF Chang’s said I was such a boar…get it? Play on words? Boar and bore…they’re not all good.) so blue would be a good choice.

2. I think the color blue is pretty.

and

3. Carrie Bradshaw made-over her life after moving on from Mr. Big, and I’m conducting a makeover on myself after moving on from (hopefully) the rat race of career choices that are no longer fulfilling my life. Plus, Carrie presumably gets paid a ton of money to write about her life which sounds pretty awesome to me. What? Carrie Bradshaw is a fictional character played by Sarah Jessica Parker and could not have possibly made enough money writing a weekly column to have her own studio apartment and dress like a Russian debutant hooker? Well, theoretical voice, on my Vision Board she can and does…and that’s all it takes for the power of positive thinking. So BLAM! Back to painting my room blue…

Here’s Carrie B’s room…

So, as I was saying, Abby and I headed down to Home Depot on 23rd street (which sadly didn’t have a hotdog stand in front of it like they do in my hometown…I know, I don’t eat meat. I can still enjoy the ambiance of a hotdog stand) and picked up some paint.

This is the color of my future…The Isle of Carpri….

I know what you’re thinking ladies and the answer is YES! I did give Gary the paint guy/photo bomber my phone number. Sometimes you gotta play to win (I did not give that dude my number and his name is not Gary (probably)).

Unfortunately, I have not budgeted my time wisely with this whole “paint your room like Carrie’s so you can quit your day job and become a famous millionaire by writing about seemingly sassy (man hunting) and a tad bit boring (trip to home depot) adventures.” Cause, before you paint, you have to do a lot of s*it like clean behind all of your furniture that you haven’t cleaned behind since you moved into the apartment 6 years ago. Dang!

Let’s get started.

Not too bad, not too bad. Just a few pennies, 14 bobby pins, my dignity and some big ass dust bunnies…

Pretty gross, huh? Now, if I were a boring person, I would just toss this in the trash and go about cleaning. As you can tell, I’m not a boring person. I’m a super creative as well as highly sophisticated person. After returning from the arts and crafts table, I turned our little friend here into…

Our little friend here!

Readers, I’d like you to meet the newest member of the SixtySixdaysofSarah team, Dusty!!!

I thought Flat Pam and Flat Sarah could use a friend. (Flat Pam and Flat Sarah are a children’s project that I’m working on where I taker her on adventures (grave robbing) around NYC.

Time to meet your new BFF girls!

Awwwwww…you guys look great together. Now that Dusty is out from behind the dresser, let’s paint this mofo.

The first stroke!

3 days later…

I’m still painting this stupid stupid room and it feels like I’m reading that last book by Dan Brown. Where it takes forever to finish and the ending blows and you wish that you had gone out for 14 brunches instead because that’s how long it took to read (and I’m talking those all you can drink brunches where you pay $23 and have an omlet and 19 bloody mary’s and take up the table for 4 hours and then the server hates you, but then likes you again after you tell him how you’re so surprised that he didn’t book that job at that audition you were both at because his pirouettes were fierce….those kind of brunches). Painting was becoming uber frustrating. Especially when I went to paint the top corner of my closet…

I mean I know the paint brush should go with the grain of the wood but what happens at the dang corner?! Do I go horizontal the whole way?! Or vertical!? Or try to go diagonal at that diagonal line?! And why the Hell did I get painting tape the same color as my paint?! And why didn’t you turn the radiator off before you got on the ladder that’s directly above the radiator?! How stupid can you be Sarah?! You’ll never be like Carrie Bradshaw! She probably hired painters to do it for her so she could go out and teach Jennifer Hudson life lessons about love (and possibly suggest that she join Weight Watchers so that one day she could look like a Somalian orphan…am I right? She’s mad skinny now…it’s like I expect to see her in a hut made of clay with a fly landing directly on her eyeball at the exact moment that the camera pans to her to get you to pay 9 cents a day…too far? I’m just saying she’s skinny is all…I digress). I was getting so worried that I was going to destroy my new bedroom/office that I almost gave up. But then I felt a little tap on my shoulder and turned around…

Thank you Dusty. You’re so right. Worry is the prayer for chaos in our lives! I shall worry no more Dusty. It will all be ok. Hey Dusty, how did you come up with that quote when I only created you 23 minutes ago from the dust bunnies behind my dresser? I guess we can talk about it when I tuck you in tonight.

And with that… I have completed 2 whole walls in my room.

See you guys on day 192 when my room is completed.

Fictional character Carrie Bradshaw…here I come!

PS: Special shout out to friend Rebecca the self proclaimed “Paint Nazi” for helping me out!

She’s allowed to say paint nazi because she’s half jewish. And toured with the musical Cabaret.

sixty six days of sarah

Tag Archives: sixtysixdaysofsarah

Day 89: How I feel about Church…

Day 80: Last Friday Night…

Day 74: So I guess “the Children are our Future?”

Day 68: And then there was thirty-seven dollars…

Day 50something: Don’t Cry for me ArgenTINA!!

Day 55: P is for Progress…

Day 52: Wine Rack Wednesday!

Day 50: The rapist Tuesday…

Day 44: A love letter…

Day 38: I meditated the s*it out of her…

Day 36: 33 is half of 66…incase you’re an idiot.

Day 36: 33 is half of 66…incase you’re an idiot.

Day 33: Punxsutawney Philly

Day 31: I take two steps forward and pas de bourre back..

Day 29: I’m blue daba de daba “Hi guys”!

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