Thursday, April 25, 2013

The Posts I Never Wrote: Part 5

Continued. From. Here. Ok?

When searching through my posts drafts- this is what I found:

"As Soon as I knew it was a Robot..."
"I said: "As soon as I knew it was a robot calling, I hung up the phone. But then the robot called me back!!!!"." Where can a post like this go? Nowhere, that's where.


I Just Symbolically Deleted My OkCupid Account
Not like I ever actually used it. But, you know, I will never forget those 3 bad dates as long as I live. I'm never going on an internet date again. And the universe can just deal with it.


Green Means Stop
Sometimes I accidentally stop at green lights if I am trying to drive cautiously. Normally late at night. Whatever, no big deal. That's why I won't make it a whole post.


Was that a baby or a cat?
I heard a weird cry in the middle of the night. I couldn't tell if it was a baby or a cat.

Comedy gold.


Cobb Salads
Not only are Cobb Salads good- but they are hilarious. Who invented them? "Ah, yea I think I will order a salad with chicken. And add some cheese, too, ..umm, some blue cheese. Yum. Thanks. -----Wait, actually, not sure there is enough protein or salt there, some bacon too maybe? Yes, bacon too. Thanks. Yay, that'll be good. Wait! I'm worried that this not enough protein. What do you think? Can you add an egg or two? Thank you!!!! Wait, wait. Wait sorry. Sorry. I really don't want to be hungry. Umm, do you guys have avocado? Yea, add some avocado too. And can I have blue cheese dressing? And olives. Ok, that is it. Thank you.--- You're bringing bread to the table, right?" 

I guess if I ever become a stand-up comedian I'll do bits on Cobb Salads, and Robot Cold Calls.

"Robots!? Whhh-- why? Right, guys?? What! Hilarious, right!??"

*Crickets from the audience......*

Sunday, April 21, 2013

Friday, April 19, 2013

This is What Taxes Are

As far as I know and have gathered over my sheltered little shell-of-a-life, taxes are money you pay to the government in repayment for living here. Sort of like country rent.

For the most part, this is the first year I have not been working under the table as a babysitter. That is actually a lie, because I had taxes on quite a few professional shows I worked in as an actor. Also that one summer I waitressed for 2 months. But my kind father, along with his handy accountant, allowed me to remain a sort of swaddled-baby-actor/babysitter for a while. This morning I was trying to type "God" into my phone, and instead I typed "Dad". Analyze THAT!

So anyway, now that I am turning into a terrible toddler version of an adult, and learning to walk and considering potty training myself, here are the other things I have learned about taxes over the years:

They take from your income because they really need money for roads and wars and stuff. So taking from your income makes sense because that's where the money's at, yo! This works out, sort of, because they tax people with higher income higher, and lower income lower. Generally. I hear.

I have learned recently that there are federal taxes, state taxes, and in New York Citayyyy: City Taxezzzz. And you can screw yourself over by checking the wrong box on your W-2 forms, because then you get all your money upfront but forget that you have to pay it back when the spring rolls around. If you check the other box on the W-2, then you get way less money week to week, but come spring, you may be refunded and smiling.

I also hear if you own property, you have to pay taxes on that shit, too. So you rent a life in America with your taxes, buy a home, then pay rent on life in America on the home you bought in the life you rent in America. It is all fine though, because school buses and firefighters and libraries are really nice to have. And that is all part of renting life in America. (This is not a comment on the American system. This is an educational post on taxes.)

You can lie on your taxes, but if you are audited, you will go to JAIL like the girl's dad from my 2nd grade class. She thought he was in China for 2 years, but we all knew he was in jail for tax fraud.

You can "write things off" pertaining to your business. If you are in the business of being an actor, you can write off haircuts and gel-tipped-nail manicures and audition clothes and.... basically everything, because actors can be very tricky little bastards. I have never done this. Heresay.

Writing things off doesn't mean the government refunds everything you bought for your business like I hoped it meant. It means that ... they refund some taxy percentage of the items so you are not paying taxes on... the items your bought for your business. I have no idea if that is true. I just made that up. Google it yourself.

There is such a thing as a 1099 Tax form for freelance-y people and would-be-under-the-table people, and apparently these are bitches to work with, tax-wise.

Non-wealthy and wealthy people alike often pay other potentially non-wealthy people to professionally figure out their tricky taxes, and pay them a lot of money to figure out how to not pay as much money... so I assume it evens out. But, it creates jobs for CPAs and keeps our American economy going strong in the springtime.

April 15th is the day, man! I literally went to the bank, had them carve me a check from my account, put it in an envelope and mailed it at 1 pm on April 15th this year. My version of sky-diving. And no, I did not sleep the entire night before: "Omg omg omg I can't believe I haven't mailed my taxes yet. I don't have any more checks. What was I waiting for? Omg omg omg".

I have learned that Turbo Tax can be free if you don't let them trick you into clicking the wrong button! Who knew?

Here is the moral of the story:

The more you have, the more your owe. It is a classic case of "be careful what you wish for". This concept is one of the reasons I have realized I will never own a house, even if somebody gave me the money for the house. Because I may never have the money to pay for the taxes, let alone keep the roof from caving in and paint from peeling off the siding.

Next year when I turn 26 and have to learn all about health insurance, I will teach you what I've learned then, too.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

Sex and the City's Unrealistic Use of Fate

There are probably hundreds or thousands of reasons why Sex and the City sets unrealistic expectations of life and love and being a skinny adult and potential alcoholic-sex-addict in the city.

I have just started rewatching because my roommate has NEVER SEEN THEM (except on TBS), so we are on the first season, back when there were still talking heads, and when Carrie had unlimited miscellaneous corportate/financey/lawyery friends, and also a "friend" named Skipper: a Tom Hanks doppleganger who is so awkward and sweet and dates Miranda, and even though he is annoying, someone should have married him probably.

Don't get me wrong: I love you Sex and the City, you made that summer in college that I sprained my ankle and ate my way through my parent's kitchen a blast. You offset the stress of watching the first 3 seasons of Lost all in a row, by being light and fluffy and filled with warm New York City dreams of the late nineties. Tasti D-Lite and spaghetti straps, endless brunches and comical cabbies, clubs that aren't crowded or horrible, and so many drinks- but no hangovers. That was the life I wanted to live. And when I got back to NYU for my sophomore year- I was going to live that life.

I didn't. In case you were wondering. Plus I was only 19. BUT THE CARRIE DIARIES WEREN'T OUT THEN. (And I don't watch them anyway)

In the 3 episodes that I have just rewached from Season 1, here are some reasons why you shouldn't believe everything you see on Sex and the City.

(In case you were confused and thought that fiction was reality, which I apparently did.)

(Note- all of these example are from the first few episodes.)

She Bumps into Mr. Big EVERYWHERE. I mean, everywhere. Getting out of cabs, in restaurants, at clubs- all those clubs, at random lawyery parties, at outdoor cafes as she walks by... Everywhere. Fate is pushing them together. And he is "so cool" and not even into Samantha's sexual proposition, and he asks Carrie on some verrry vague dates- only to flake out. But she is so uber chill about it all when she runs into him brunching outside with friends and trying to fix the wobbly table like a modern day wealthy brunch hero. She shows her indifferent intelligence by solving his crossword puzzle for him from feet away, revealing super-hero-strength vision, and in his awe of her eyesight, he decides now is the time to not be a flake. He abandons his quest for a sturdy-legged-table and rushes after her.

Paraphrased: "Let's have dinner for real now, my depressed, divorced, codependent friend sitting back at the brunch table is now finally dating an old gold-digger/escort, so I am now free to date again."... "Mr. Big, I may be wearing a fur coat in the summertime, and I may be good at real crossword puzzles, but not HUMAN CROSSWORD PUZZLES, YOU WEALTHY PUZZLE!".

happiness and style

These late 30-somethings women are always at Clubs. Clubs, clubs, walking in heals and clubs. Now, maybe I am just a flats-wearing-hermit. But really? I mean they make the club thing seem like a legitimate way to spend your life. Like a totally normal way to spend the majority of your nights. So many clubs, and so many sweet cocktails. And they conveniently forget to show the hangovers the next day.

The 20-somethings Club. Well, I just watched the episode where Carrie dates a 20-something who lives like a depressed college student with a toilet in the middle of his apartment. But the weirder part of the episode is: the "20-somethings club" that has only 20-somethings in it. Apparently. And she finds her tongue ringed 20-something lover there again a second night, because he only hangs out at this 20-somethings club. And because, in the 90's, people really had to rely on fate because there were no cell phones. If there is such thing as a 20-somethings bar or club, I want someone to let me know. (I still prefer my bathrooms with walls though.)

She wears a light blue feather boa on a date with a French man who thinks she is a high class prostitute. Actually, that makes sense. Sort of.

Mr. Big probably knew she was 'the one' the moment he knocked into her bag on the street and all her condoms fell out onto the sidewalk. And then he kindly picked them up and handed them back to her with a big wealthy smile. That was their very first chance encounter. Modern day love, people.

Are there women REALLY that addicted to shoes? 

Charlotte has already had about 4 boyfriends over the course of 3 episodes?

Why is that stock lesbian character ok with going along with Miranda's little charade? She knows she is being used so Miranda can get invited to her boss's dinner party (whose wife wanted a lesbian couple in her social circle). Why does she let it happen? Fight the man, girl! Don't let the man and his wife turn you into a social fetish!

And a personal issue: How would I have ever been able to wear spaghetti straps? None of the ones I see include a bra. The braless 90's. This is one of the most unrealistic parts about this show, and 90's in general.


That is all I can remember for now. I didn't mention the "How does Carrie afford that apartment on a meager  1-column-a-week-freelance-pay" because, you know, it has been asked a million times before. (And the show's half-assed explanation of "Rent Control" doesn't work for me.)

I LOVE you Sex and the City, I really do. But you gave me unrealistic expectations of nights-able-to-be-spent-out-drinking, and also of the role that Fate would play in my life.

(Maybe more to come if I keep watching the show with Annie. Maybe not.) (Aiden is obviously not on the show yet, but remember when I met him!?!?!?!)

( You are WELCOME for all of the parentheses. I know, I know: it makes reading a BLAST.)

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

At Least You Can Sleep On The Bus

There are some nice, relaxed people who doze off on long car rides, sleep through their 7 hour red-eyes, take a much-needed nap on the Amtrak, or drift off while laying back and listening to music on the Bolt Bus.


Just look at this blissful, ignorant soul:

via google images. Unnatural lack of wrist-ache here

Oh the simplicity. Anyone can do this: Just sleep! Just put the seat back, rest back your little head, close your little eyes til your mind fills with big puffy clouds, and then drift into peaceful trainsleeping. Or airplanesleeping. Or Bussleeping.

Never mind how your head bangs against the window. Never mind how your neck feels ok for like 4 minutes and then starts to feel horrible just when you think you might be dozing off. Never mind how those puffy neck things still make your head tilt way down to the side.

Never mind your wrist-ache after you have been resting your head on it for 6 minutes. Or how the arm rest or "windowsill" is like, weirdly narrow for your elbow and your arm elbow skin keeps shifting and sliding your arm off, and how am I supposed to keep my arm holding me up once I fall asleep? I have never fallen asleep so I don't really know. Should I be resting my head on the rattling window instead? I am really asking.

Sometimes I try to wedge my scarf in between my head and the rattling window, but the window is awkwardly far from the rest of my body and at a certain point my torso begins to cramp. Also the scarf keeps falling down. Am I doing this right? Also when I do this I don't know where to put my arms. In my lap? Resting on the narrow armrest?

On long tired airplane rides, sometimes I am almost asleep but then the steward walks by with the drinks and I don't want to miss my chance. Sometimes I decide to ignore the drink driveby, but just the thought process is enough to keep the puffy clouds of airplanesleeping at bay. Also my neck feels really weird. This angle was comfortable a few minutes ago.

Sometimes I look longingly to the side at my napping friend, or the blissful sleeping stranger. How do they do it? Do they have drugs? Am I missing something?

Sometimes I put down the tray and rest my head on my folded-arm-pillows and try to fall asleep that way. It has also never worked, but I have come close. I am also very self conscious of this method. Nobody else seems to try this.

One day I want to sleep on the bus. One day I want to put my seat back and I want my head to stay magically floating without falling to the side and crunching my neck. Or I want to figure out how to position my arms while lying my head on a scarf pillow, on a window that is not too far from my seat or body, and hope the bus isn't rattling too much.

Then I'll write and tell you all how I did it.