If you should visit NYC...

Should you be so lucky as to visit the crazy-amazing-holy-mother-of-Pete city of New York in the next few decades, there are a few things you should note before getting off the plane, train or automobile.

1.  Most New Yorkers are pushy, rude, and/or angry.  They'll say they're *ahem* "focused."  They move quickly unless they have a cell phone, iPhone, or some other goofy gadget glued to their face or hand surfing the internet.  If you see any type of communication device in-hand, owner glazed-eyed, avoid them at all costs.  All internal navigation systems and notions of their surroundings disappear with the ding of the 3G network.

2.  If you see litter on the subway, DO NOT touch it.  Good citizens throw away their own coffee cups, newspapers, and Kleenex.  Tourists looking for infections discard other people's trash.  Unless you have the handy-dandy Purell bottle in your purse or pocket, LEAVE IT.  The MTA has people that do that kind of thing armed with latex gloves, face masks and Napalm.

3.  You can eat Applebee's and Olive Garden at home, folks.  There are hundreds, maybe even THOUSANDS of new, different and exciting restaurants to try in New York City.  Even a deli is better than McDonald's.  It's often cheaper and faster, too.  And here's a news flash:  if you're sitting down to a meal, 18% is an adequate tip.  20% if you really enjoy the server.  If the guy or girl's OBVIOUSLY an actor, go 25.  They're probably broke and the road to stardom can be long and trying.  "Double the tax" is a boat that don't float.  Unless, of course, you catch your server picking his nose before he serves the bread.  Then you roll at 15, not a care in the world.

4.  DO NOT stand in the middle of the sidewalk looking around, gawking at a map, or staring straight up in slack-jawed awe of the big buildings.  Not everyone in New York City is a tourist.  Some people actually have places to go, things to do, and lives to lead.  Just because you and your ENORMOUS (and I'm not talkin' number of members, chubby) family from Iowa/Michigan/Oklahoma all piled up in Greyhound to see the big city DOES NOT give you the right to spread out your entire family from building front to curb.  Think about the folks trying to pass, please.  

5.  Hardly anyone who lives in New York is actually FROM New York.  So, if someone gives you attitude about being a tourist, ask them where they started.  Chances are, it won't be The Empire State.  Then tell 'em to go F*$# themselves.  You don't get much more New York than that.

To continue a facebook thought...

I am an actor.  Singing, acting, dancing--that's what I do.  It's what fulfills me, it's where my light shines brightest, blah blah blah, insert cliche' here.  When I am NOT earning my bread and butter through aforementioned vocation, I am lucky enough to have a job at a very swank Italian restaurant in New York City, just across the street from Carnegie Hall.  

The podium stand has a big, plaster boob over it.  A pair of them, actually.  And they're so big, you can actually see the hole in the middle of the nipple.  Classy.

I digress.

Through working at this restaurant, I have met and work with some AMAZING people.  I served Ringo Starr and Elvis Costello my first night of training.  My colleagues at the restaurant are varied and eccentric people, most of whom I look forward to seeing as I begin my shifts.

Working in such a fine dining establishment occasionally brings with it a level of clientele that is not always...versed in the way to treat other human beings with dignity and respect.  Money, power and influence DO NOT a good human make.  This is not a new lesson.  We've heard it a million times.  And that's where this entry is headed.

As luck would have it, I scored doubles on both days this weekend.  I have a SUBSTANTIAL amount of cash money going into the bank a little later today.  But, with this incredibly easy green comes a little hassle, as with any wage earned.  

Last night I'm working section 6, and the gem of this station's crown is table 30.  You can fit up to 10 people semi-comfortably on table 30.  Parties of eight or more carry an automatic gratuity of 18%.  On some of the bills I get in my place, that's mucho dinero.  Well, last night, this table of seven *sigh* comes in and we're having a very nice time until this one guy starts SNAPPING his FINGERS at me.  

This did not go well with Ed Bullard's son.   

I'd already turned to leave the table when I turn back slowly, one eyebrow cocked, and ask incredulously if someone had snapped their fingers at me.  At first, I thought it was the host, a ruddy, round man that seemed relatively jolly upon first meeting.  I turned the fiery glare on this obviously ignorant individual, ready to rain down the Austin Creek Missionary Baptist hellfire and brimstone.  Cue nervous laughter from the host.  Then, MY MANAGER actually points to the real culprit and said, "It wasn't him.  It was THIS GUY."  

I love my manager.  I think he was actually waiting for the sparks to fly, not realizing just how dangerous this situation was near to being.  

Then the host squirms in his seat and asks me to forgive his colleague, that he's from Belgium.  Got it.  They make orgasmic chocolate and some of the deadliest assault weapons in the world but nobody thought to enlighten this obviously cultured group of people about what is and is not acceptable in society.  

Sure.

At the end of their meal, the tab was RIDICULOUS and the host only left 12% gratuity.  Sure, he got an under-the-breath curse of impotence and flatulence, but I still felt pretty good about the whole thing.  When retelling the story to some of my friends at the restaurant, one fella offered this adage that I'd never heard but have adopted as my new facebook status and words to live by:

"I may be the world's servant but I am nobody's BITCH."

One of those days...

Do you ever have one of those days where you wake up and it seems like the smallest thing can go wrong, sending you running through the streets, wild-eyed and bloodthirsty?  

Yeah.  Welcome to Friday.  And this is supposed to be a GREAT day.  I've got nowhere to be until 11 a.m. and all my plans for the day end at 5:00.  I feel like a beneficiary of the bailout.  And yet, this morning I wake to find no oatmeal in the house and I'm ready to turn my apartment into a crime scene.  

I'm pretty sure this is the product of deeper, underlying issues including, but not limited to:

*A sluggish economy (my refusal to use the word "recession" is probably naive and/or a sign of denial)

*A broken toe

*A barely-there audition scene

*Another week of food service

*COLD WEATHER

I'm hoping a shave, shower, and a nice breakfast (WITHOUT outmeal) will put me in better spirits.

*limps over to refrigerator*  

NO MILK!  Son of a ...

Watch the headlines for a man clad only in Superman pajama pants and an orthopedic boot running through Queens, eyes rolling, tongue lolling, grocery money in hand.  Supes got no pockets.