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If you like comedy, PR or the occasional inside scoop on the entertainment world,
then drop by for a daily dose written by me, Kambri Crews, producer and publicist to comedians and more!
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
Come on, it's lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you.
Since Halloween is around the corner, it's only appropriate that Christmas music should be playing in all the stores. I did a little shopping before the movie Sunday and was so annoyed by the "those sleigh bells jingling, ring ting tingling too." Seriously, retailers are a bit over zealous with their advanced jump on the holiday season. I haven't even decided on a Halloween costume yet and they're trying to get me to start on my holiday gift list. Happy friggin' birthday already. Jesus!
Link - 9:00 PM -
Saturday, October 26, 2002
I took Paquita to Greg's place so he and I could have a work session and she and Mona could have a play date. Mona is the cutest Yorkshire Terrier that belongs to Greg's friend Robert and is the exact same size as Paquita. To watch those two relating to each other for the first time, then finally relaxing enough to enjoy each other was really cute. I taught Greg Dreamweaver and we both learned how to make a shopping cart on www.texinthecity.com for cabaret ticket purchases. I'm so proud of the work we did till 1:00 in the morning! All this while the dogs ran each other ragged. I realized how horny Paquita really is. All she wanted was to be boarded. She kept scooting her butt into position for Mona, but Mona wanted none of that. Marc and I do the same thing. I wonder if she learned by watching us? How embarrassing. :-)~
Link - 8:59 PM -
Friday, October 25, 2002
I was so busy at work that I actually broke out into a sweat. The woman next to me had taken the day off, so there was a temp sitting in her place. Temp had such a lovely, soft voice which gave me the occasionally tingle on my neck and scalp. Thank goodness, because I had to listen to her gabbing on the phone from the minute she got there a half hour late to the minute she left. No exaggeration. I don't think I know anyone who can talk that much all day. She should enter a contest. And to think she got paid for that! Much of my day was spent preparing court documents for a model's case and opening a new file for a best selling author. So it's all good stuff, just so much all at once.
Link - 8:36 AM -
Thursday, October 24, 2002
Life is a Cabaret, My Friends!
I'll give you three guesses where my boss had drinks tonight. He went with two friends that actually invited li'l old me. I couldn't go, though, since the Cabaret is only two weeks away and there are things to do, places to go, people to see! Have you purchased your advance tickets yet? Did I tell you Andra Mitrovich is the featured performer?
Ancient Chinese Secret, Huh?
"A light heart carries you through all the hard times." Oh Confucious, you wise old devil. So good of you to point it out. How did you know? By the way, thanks for letting me know that my lucky numbers are 3, 7, 17, 37, 41, 45. Wise indeed.
I'm #1, I'm #1!
As I was leaving work yesterday, a middle-aged, heavy guy wearing headphones pointed at me and said, "YOU are the one!"
Damn straight!
Link - 6:57 PM -
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
I had drinks at the Rainbow Room Friday for Leslie's birthday and let me tell you, I am po'. I felt so schlumpy and ugly in the midst of all that wealth. A cotton blend skirt from Limited sure looks cheap next to all the fine linens and polished silver and tuxedoed waitstaff. The view is breathtaking and my apple martini was $17, but as a Rockefeller Center employee I paid a mere $8.50 which is more appropriate given it's size and strength.
Last night I convinced my boss he needed to take us there for drinks. He thought it was a great idea and we had a fun time listening to him being him. He enjoyed himself so much, I think it might be his new regular after work spot. Yeah! I love that place even if I look like the help. I left at 7:00 and passed Harvey Keitel downstairs...he was waiting for his car. Was he on Conan last night? I then headed towards Mischiko Rehearsal Studios to meet up with the cabaret performers and killed some time talking with Greg.
I brought up the topic of how dooce got fired for things she had written in her blog. I wondered if I'm putting myself at risk. The thing is, I love my boss. I think he's hysterical and over-the-top and I'll tell him so all the time. He's very demanding, but in a good way. I love my job (dooce didn't). I think (hope) that if he were to ever read my blog, that he wouldn't mind being referenced since I don't say anything on here that I have't said to him already. So, Jeff, if you're reading this, you know I think you're the best boss ever even if you are crazier than a goat 'n heat!
Real Life New York Quote of the Day:
"If you get paid, you represent them. That's Jewish Law"
Link - 8:56 PM -
Monday, October 21, 2002
Those Who Work Together Pee Together
I just saw two guys chatting and laughing and then go into the bathroom together. Something about it just weirds me out. In a bar it's foreseeable, but in the office it's just creepy. Especially since I know how small the bathrooms are in this place. And why do men still have to pee in the open right next to one another? What's that all about?
Link - 3:35 PM -
Friday, October 18, 2002
The Glass is Half Full
I'm all for looking on the bright side of things. Like what if your name was Englebert Humperdinck? It's better than Engledinck Humperbert.
Early Birthday Gift
My friend is so generous. Today at lunch he pointed at two very obese men and offered, "Which one of those two guys do you want to see naked? I'll have it arranged for your birthday."
Water Cooler Convo
I took a trip to the office water cooler and was so excited when I saw a little group chatting away. "Is this the proverbial water cooler conversation I always hear about but never partake in?!? So, did you see who got kicked off Survivor?" Turns out they were talking about the ballet. I need to switch firms. What happened to good old fashioned skirt chasing and gossip and after hours boozing? You know...the good old days!
Another hysterical episode of Different Strokes. This one had me laughing so hard I wanted to puke! Da Dum Dum!
181. Bulimia (01/17/86 - #811)
Arnold suspects that Kimberly has an eating disorder when his slender sister is secretly gorging herself, but not gaining any weight. Arnold seeks Drummond's help in confronting Kimberly with her problem and the family comes together to help her fight the eating disorder, bulimia.
Link - 11:59 AM -
Thursday, October 17, 2002
Gospel of Jack, 10:17
Jack, in attempts to be helpful and out of fear that I couldn't possibly figure out anything without aforesaid helpfulness, calls me to aid in my search for a hotel in Santa Monica and says, "Yahoo has all kinds of directories and stuff like that." I respond, "Thanks, I'm well-versed in the internet."
This is the same man I've had to instruct on the complexities of copying and pasting text . . . five times.
This morning, the shouting of Howard Stern blaring through my tiny alarm clock speaker awoke me from my dream that I was Carl McCall's illegitimate daughter. Maybe this could explain my ghetto booty or my Pam Grier afro.
I know it's not Spring, but I have the urge to modify, consolidate and purge everything in my apartment. In doing so, I've discovered an abundance of nail clippers. I have no recollection of ever having purchased one nail clipper let alone six. I certainly would have no use for the extra large sizes as seen on the right, so how did I come to own them? It's just like that red umbrella. There must be some fairy that comes and deposits new shiny clippers in exchange for old nail clippings. Not to hurt fairy's feelings, but I think I can garner a bundle on Ebay. Any bidders?
Link - 8:53 PM -
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
After a Tex in the City staged reading, I left the room for a bathroom break and returned to discover the conversation was about how serious Will & Grace has become as of late. Greg insisted, "It's a sitcom!" I don't watch the show, but I empathized with the angst by chiming in, "It's like when little Arnold Drummond was molested, you knew things were downhill from there."
Indeed, midway through the 5th season, the writers of Different Strokes decided this might be funny:
The Bicycle Man (Part 1) (02/05/83 - #516)
Unaware that he's being lured into the carefully crafted trap of a child molester, Arnold eagerly agrees to perform a simple task in return for an overly generous reward from a "friendly" neighborhood merchant.
The Bicycle Man (Part 2) (02/12/83 - #517)
Arnold and Dudley's "friendship" with a local merchant reaches a dangerous turning point when, unbeknownst to the boys, the man, who is actually a child molester, is about to make his move.What we have here, is a failure to communicate!
Before the reading I was talking about Texans and Texan musicians living in NY with "Lisa". This is a brief outline of our exchange:
Lisa: Do you know Charlie? He's a singer.
Me: Does he have a Texas tattoo?
Lisa: Hmmm no, don't think so...Charlie Smith?
Me: Dunno his last name, but he's a singer named Charlie, has Texas tattoo and is married to a pretty blonde girl.
Lisa: Is his name Bruce?
Me: Uhhh...No. Charlie?
Then a few moments later the conversation segued into this summarized chat:
Lisa: We got married in Vegas.
Me: Oh, in a chapel or casino?
Lisa: Chapel.
Me: Marc's best friend lives there.
Lisa: In Texas?
Me: Uhhh...No. Vegas?
I must learn to communicate better.
Link - 9:52 AM -
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Friends had an ugly naked guy that the cast all stared at with inquisitive disgust. I thought, "How absurd!" Then I moved to New York and thought, "Hmm, it could happen." But I had still been denied the sheer marvel of seeing a nude human in plain sight. That was until Sunday. While working at Greg's apartment, Scott, Greg & I were distracted by the sounds of a seemingly large group shouting in approximate unison. We made our way out on to the balcony (Yes, Greg has a balcony. Yes, I secretly hate him for it.) and witnessed a large demonstration of Islams marching in protest of the negative protayal of Islams in the media. Allah bless them for it, but it still a bit scary to be an unintentional witness to someone else's passionate protest.
Greg's remark "Nobody ever marches crosstown," struck me funny for some reason. He also commented on what a stodgy neighborhood his is and that things like this never happen by his place. Hordes of inquisitive neighbors were gaping out of their windows and that's when we saw him. In all his glory, my first Ugly Naked Guy was standing full monty with legs spread shoulder length. Greg saw him first and pointed him out to me. I stared for a few moments then shrieked, "I've got to get my camera!" He moved away before I could snap a pic of him. I would have loved sharing him with the world.
Link - 8:51 PM -
Monday, October 14, 2002
I was at a bar mitzvah Saturday night at the Lighthouse at Pier 61 in the Chelsea Piers, the same place where Sam Fox, son of Michael J. Fox and Tracy Pollan, had his bar mitzvah. At yesterday's party, Peter Gallagher, his wife Paula and their son happened to be guests as Peter's son is friends with the bar mitzvah boy, Scott. Peter found a spot next to me in which to mingle giving me the best view of him fielding off numerous compliments and questions. It was painful to witness. He was so gracious and friendly but hardly had a chance to get a drink or nosh. A part of me felt bad for him--there was no point in which he could let his guard down. He was the only recognizable guest there, so it seemed as though all eyes were drawn to him.
Mostly, I felt bad for his wife. At one point the DJ instructed, "All you women in da room, git out der and find yo man and git out on dat dance flo!" I could see her on her tippy toes searching for Peter with no luck, then later the two of them meandering to their table but being stopped by a woman introducing herself to Peter, so obviously awestruck at his mere presence. All the while a subtle yet distinct look of frustration on Paula's face as she's holding his hand, pulling him towards their table. Her reluctantly sharing him with adoring fans and him stuck in the middle of what he wants to do and what he has to do. They must have been exhausted; they left before the main course.**
I, however, left after my coach turned into a grey minivan and my coachmen were Marc and two guys nicknamed Bluto and Slinky--so designated for some obvious and some not so obvious physical attributes. I did manage to gain a lovely henna tattoo, a box of Krispy Kremes, a bag of bagels and a beautiful floral centerpiece which I've dismantled into seven, yes, seven, different arrangements.
**It was their second bar mitzvah in one day. First at the Rainbow Room in Midtown then the Chelsea Piers on the LWS. Who can blame them!
Link - 4:34 PM -
Act I - Scene I
Enter Jack's office. I'm on my knees crouched on the floor behind his desk. My right arm is moving back and forth quickly and repeatedly. He is sitting in his leather chair moaning under his breath while fiddling with his mouse. Camera scans behind the desk to reveal that I am alternating between scraping and rubbing ice on flourescent blue peppermint gum which is embedded in the carpet that was put there by the sole of his shoe. He is grunting out of frustration because his computer is on the fritz since he knocked it over with his head when he bent down to remove his gum-ridden shoe.
What did you think I was doing at work all day?
Here's the telephone conversation that took place regarding how things were falling apart for him:
Jack: ...And there's gum on my shoe and on the carpet, I hit my head on my computer, spilled an entire cup of coffee on my desk and now "Michael" is laughing at me.
Me: Why? Are your pants unzipped?
Slam! Dial tone.
Conversation of the Day (Already at this hour?):
Me: Mr. SoAndSo is on my line and wants to speak with you.
Jack: Do you mind listening to me be brilliant?
Link - 10:16 AM -
Sunday, October 13, 2002
I'm back! I still can't breathe out of my nose, but I feel a million times better. I hate feeling sick and being on the subway. The close quarters magnify my sniffling sounds and I feel like I can't just blow my nose the most effective way out of consideration for my fellow passengers. It would be easy in this city to forge ahead with disregard and blow snot to my heart's content or cough without covering my mouth, but something inside restrains me.
I always think back to the afternoon I was treated to the sounds of a pleasantly dressed older woman sucking air / spit through her teeth. There was the other woman that I heard sniff at least once per second---quick, short little sniffs over and over and over and over again. No sound of snot to be heard. What the hell was she sniffing?! Then the man who, despite being thin enough, managed to take up the space equivalent to two and a half people. While he read his paper, he lifted his left butt cheek and let out a "pppppffffffffttttttttttttt" without batting an eyelash. The fact that we shared the same bench meant that not only did I hear his flatulation, but I felt the vibration. If it weren't for my being freaked out that molecules from his ass were now in my nose, I would have been laughing.
Anonymity gives one balls.
Link - 8:50 PM -
Wednesday, October 09, 2002
My boss had a cold and thought it would be funny if he sneezed and coughed at me. He was shuffling around in his designer shoes and perfectly tailored suit, loudly hacking up phlem, coughing, tossing his tissues on my desk, then chuckling at his own sophomoric sense of humor. Now, today, I am miserable. I have sneezed 52 times, and have blown through 28 tissues and it's only 3:36.
Jeff in a sarcastic, syrupy sweet tone: I appreciate all the hard work you're doing even though you have a weetle cold. Would it make you feewl bettuh to go home?
Me with childlike innocence and pathetic brown eyes: Yes, it would.
Jeff back to his old self: WELL YOU CAN'T! NOW GET IN HERE! NOW!
What a punk!
I am showing lots of pushed up cleavage to avert wandering eyes away from my crusty, red, nose that always seems to have shiny snot on the verge of dripping. So far, it's working.
Link - 11:49 AM -
Tuesday, October 08, 2002
Lesson in Word Origins:
Scott: At Oxford University, young men were assigned as aides to the seniors. Part of their duties was to gather bundles of sticks also known as "faggots" and you know what they would do?
Me: Um, stick 'em up their butts?
Scott: Well, no. But they would perform sexual favors for the older boys and it evolved into the derogatory meaning of "faggot" as we know it today.
So, now you know.
Link - 5:13 PM -
Monday, October 07, 2002
Saturday was a lovely day and Scott's birthday. Had it not been for his Lo-Tea gathering at Alphabet Kitchen on the Lower East Side, I would have surely stayed cooped up in my apartment nursing my slightly aching muscles from Friday night's wipe out on the slick pavement as my flimsy excuse. Thankfully, his *ahem* 28th gave me reason to venture out and enjoy the weather as well as acquaint myself with the most adorable outdoor patio. I highly recommend this restaurant for sangria, tapas and great service, but their patio is just the best. After our meal, we all gathered on the sidewalk where the last of the street fairs was closing down shop. That's when a gust of wind blew into a tarp and made a sail out of what had been the roof of a vendor's booth. This giant steel and plastic contraption was aimed right at our impromtu gathering. From this, I learned Ehren shrieks just like a girl and Asians talk and move really, really fast when they've almost seriously injured someone and need to remove all evidence.
This trek also meant my inaugural trip on the "L" train. When taking a subway line for the first time, I suddenly feel like a tourist all over again. A really dull, drab, dorky tourist. Granted when going to the L.E.S. I will always seem very white-bred no matter how I'm dressed. I mean come on, that part of the City smells like patchouli 24/7! Try as I might, I will never look cool down there.
Link - 8:48 AM -
Saturday, October 05, 2002
On the way to the Tex in the City party last night, I was in a rush and anxious to get to Serena as it was drizzling and humid and I had plenty of pre-party business awaiting my arrival. Umbrella in one hand and cell phone in the other, I was the classic picture of a New York entrepreneur. Then, woosh! Down I went. "SHIT!" I screamed without even thinking. My right hand, still clutching my cell phone, landed in a potted plant filled with damp, fresh soil. It's what saved me from real disaster. Instantly I hopped up, unfazed, dusted off my phone and resumed talking, "You there? Sorry, just fell. Anyway, I'm on my to Serena..."It wasn't until I recounted the story later that I thought how ridiculous I must have looked to the dozen or so witnesses to my spill. They all looked quite concerned for my well-being, but I couldn't be bothered or slowed down in the least. 'Tis just a flesh wound!Just where was I going in such a hurry? To a party, of course!
 Tequila was free flowing from 6:00-7:00, so the crowd came early. These three party guests (left) live in Austin and were here in NYC for a long weekend. They heard about our party and came to check it out. Excellent! Jason promised me some CDs compiled with all Texas music and even taught me how to two-step. For the record: I'm the world's worst dancer. Oh, I can shake my groove thang alright, but when it comes to having a partner and moving in step with another human, well, that human had better be wearing some steel-toed boots.
Prior to my dance with Jason, I had only one two-stepping experience to reference.
Flashback to 1987 when I was a 15 year old sophomore dating football player and senior, Brad Booth. As my escort to the annual football banquet, Brad gave me the first and only corsage ever which I still possess. Dead, dried, petrified, pressed between two pages of a scrapbook, packed in a box, stuffed in various closets for 15 years, the once pink and pretty thing takes me back.
Richland High School alumn Gary Morris was the surprise guest banquet speaker. At the time, he was Country Music's Artist of the Year, was set to star in the Broadway version of Les Miserables and had scores of my teenage classmates drooling at his feet that were decked with the gawdiest high top sneakers. Not that I was a trendy fashionista. Oh no. No, no, no.
So, to cap the evening off right, the announcer informed us that Gary was to select a *lucky* girl to dance with him to the sounds of his current #1 hit to which everyone present in that Texas banquet hall knew the lyrics except me. While all the beautiful, rich cheerleaders held their breath in anticipation of being picked, I was praying, "Please, please, please, not me, not me, not me."By now, you know who Gary picked. Ah, yes, he chose me. Headbanging, big haired, Ozzy loving me.And I have never two-stepped since.
(Note the orange streaks in my hair that were painted on with a color stick and Gary's high tops. Very avant garde. Very chic. Oh, and, umm...yeah that's my mother's dress. Lord knows I couldn't have gotten a new one for my first real high school dance. There's those wacky mutton sleeves making their zillionth comeback. P.S. This is a photo circa 1987 which is not to be used for press as noted in my August 18th entry. Thank you.)
Link - 8:47 PM -
Thursday, October 03, 2002
The dog is wimpering while she's playing fetch! I kid you not. Things are falling apart. I've been coming home late from my day job and working till past midnight every night on who knows what. Time really does fly on this computer thingy.
Tex in the City's 6th party is tomorrow night and it's the second time we've gotten a tequila sponsor. This time, though, it's a Friday and the sponsor is interested in future ventures. So, let's hope it is a smashing success. I also sold my first ad for our cabaret program. You too can advertise with Tex in the City. Just drop me an email. For a few bucks, you can get website exposure, an ad in the program and inclusion in a few emails that are sent to a database that is over 1,000 strong and growing. Yee Haw!
Okay, enough of the sales pitch crapola. That's all that has been running through this head of mine lately. I panicked yesterday realizing that I am supposed to know about marketing because of the parties I've hosted in the Caribbean for Jose Cuervo and my promotional work with Stoli, Winston, Camel, Pepsi and Lipton, blah, blah, oy vey! I do know about crowd pleasing and hosting parties and trademarks and logos and brand imaging and target marketing. I'm great at that. But I panicked nonetheless. With a cabaret production premiering in a month and rough-cut press releases staring back at me, I rushed to Barnes and Noble. Dumb. Rudy Giuliani was there so it was a mob scene, so I grabbed the first book I saw. It was a piece of crap. So, I go back today to return it and Sarah Jessica Parker and Cynthia Nixon were there so it was a mob scene. So, I'm going back tomorrow when Christy Turlington is scheduled to be there and there won't be a mob scene. What's with all these damn book signings? Christmas isn't till December people!
Link - 11:46 PM -
Wednesday, October 02, 2002
"A mother of two, allegedly murdered by her lover, may actually have been suffocated by her own massive breasts, a jury heard yesterday. A pathologist said 238-pound Yvette Dow of Leicester, England, was found face down, with her head enveloped by 'her very large breasts.' Professor Guy Rutty told a court in Nottingham it was possible she may have collapsed and smothered herself..."
I knew I loved my 34C's sometimes B's. Now I can scratch that off my list of possible freak accidents that could cause my early death. Whew! Anyway, Marc gets home tomorrow, so I've made sure Paquita has enough Science Diet to last her before she would resort to eating my rotting corpse. I should have been a Boy Scout. I'm always prepared.
Link - 8:45 PM -
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