Kristen vs. Community College

My semester as a full time student at CCP:

The CCP bake sale is where they charge $1 per donut from an opened box of possibly expired Entemanns.

My group project is due today. After coming up with the idea, developping the format, and writing the position portion, I found myself spending an hour and a half reformating a paper that I wanted to have turned in Monday. After saving twice and hitting print, I found that it had neither printed nor saved. When asking for technical assistance the man said, "Yeaaahh, that's gone."

Later, I found that my wallet was missing. When I returned to the computer lab to ask about it the man said, "Yeeaaahhh, that's gone". It was returned to security later, sans $100 in cash and whatever change the perpetrator thought was necessary to help feed his vending machine Super Ball addiction.

The first reference on my teammate's work cited page is Wikipedia.

A breakdown of class time at CCP:
ASL 105
35-40 minutes: Discussing for the 80th time what homework is due next week and when the final exam is.
12 minutes: Personal annecdotes from the teacher's glory days
12 minutes: Actual material of what will be on the exam.
15 minnutes: Discussing what we might go over next class.
20 minutes: Home video
5 minutes: Not sure. Instructor left early for a dentist appointment, which is better than last time when she left because she had a date.

I cannot wait for this semester to be over. Yeeaaaahh, I'm gone.

The Actor and The HR Representative

She sits patiently with her hair pulled back and her wrists resting on the table in front of her, in the European style of dining, just in case she needs to gesture casually as she tells some terribly witty and convincing story about her many triumphs in whatever field she is applying for. Today, she is Corporate Barbie, wearing the black pants she's only worn when she was an usher at the local theatre her freshman year of college, the oxford shirt she wore in a commercial she shot in Jersey, and the black flats she used to wear when she worked for a catering company. A woman with a smile that never reaches her eyes and a well-practiced quite laugh enters the room and immediately begins firing questions at her victim like foam darts from a Nerf gun.

HR rep: Tell me about yourself

Actor: (Does so)

HR rep: (After giving her an, 'oh, is that all?' look) Why did you leave your last job?

Actor: Because the show closed...so they wouldn't let me perform on the stage anymore...

HR rep: What are your biggest strengths as an employee?

Actor: I carried the set of 'You Can't Take it With You" up a fire-escape once.

HR rep: Your biggest weakness?

Actor: I nearly fell through the ceiling when I was acting as Master Electrician. Now, I have a crippling fear of yellow insulation.

HR rep: Have you ever had a fellow employee who was difficult to work with?

Actor: Psh, I told you I'm an actor, right?

HR rep: Tell me about a time you've provided exemplary service to a customer.

Actor: This lady collapsed in the audience during Brighton Beach Memoirs. I was able to get the paramedics to carry her out and resuscitate her without disrupting Eugene's monologue.

HR rep: What is the hardest decision you've ever had to make in your life?

Actor: In my life? Is that really the question on the paper? Isn't that kind of personal? Hardest decision IN MY LIFE?

HR rep: Yes

Actor: Color or Black and White.

HR rep: What?

Actor: Headshots.

HR rep: I see. I think we're going to hire internally for this position.

Actor: Yeah, you probably should.

#53: The city that never sleeps, because then you'd never get seen at an EPA

Arriving early for an Equity call in NYC is like waiting to meet Hall & Oates after their concert: there's no real point and you'll probably end up waiting in a tiny room with a lot of nut jobs. The difference, of course, is that with Hall and Oates, you are the youngest, most attractive person there; whereas at large auditions, you feel like a troll who had to beg her troll friends to vote for her for homecoming queen at Troll High School (It's actually a magnet school. Really the only difference is that these trolls wear uniforms.)

As I arrived at this undisclosed location, I saw the doors were not yet opened. A line of about 70 actors had formed and was curling around the room. "Like a spiral!" one man said. "Like a deadly viper," I corrected. Everyone was reading Backstage, applying make-up, sitting on their backpacks, lounging on the floor...it was like we were part of some project to beautify homeless people (Pimp my hobo?)

An older woman in front of me turned:

Woman: Are you here for the Northern Lights?

Me: You mean, Northern Stage?

Woman: Yes, Northern Lights!

Me: Yes, I will be performing for the Aurora Borealis. They're doing Balto: The musical.

The rest of the day went as expected, lots of shuffling from room to room, listening to a 50 year old man beg a 20 year old man for a role in Jersey Boys...even though he didn't know what that musical is about. I watched 7 trillion audition dresses going by (one made entirely of blue sequins and sparkle eyelets) , stopping only to tell the girl in the leotard and glitterific eyeshadow that she was probably looking for the Disney dance call...not Steel Magnolias. Another older woman pulled me aside:

Woman: What should I sing?

Me: Well, what show are you going for?

Woman: What are they doing?

Me: Wizard of Oz and Joseph.

Woman: What is Wizard of Oz? I'm not familiar.

Me:...well, you'd probably do better with a classic or standard musical theatre piece, over contemporary.

Woman:...so, like a character piece!

Me:...well...

Woman: How bout gypsy!

Me: Perfect.

At 4 pm, I was released without being seen. Part of me wanted to shake the teenagers waiting eagerly waiting for their musical theatre class and yell "Run! There's still time! Save yourselves!" But at the end of the day, there's no business that I love better. And THAT is why I live in Philadelphia.

"Donna: You want this waffle?
Me: Sure!
Donna: You want strawberries on it?
Me: Yeah!
Donna: Get it yourself!"~God I love Maine!

There is no quiet car on the Megabus

A conversation in the back right corner of a DC Megabus

Twit #1: Is Minneapolis a mini-Annapolis?

Twit #2: Huh?

Twit #1: I mean, there's Annapolis. So, is Minneapolis a small Annapolis?

Twit #3: You're thinking of Indianapolis. That's in Indiana.

Twit #4: There's an Annapolis in Indiana?

Twit #1: There IS an Indianapolis, but I'm talking about Mini-Annapolis.

Twit #2: Mom, is Minneapolis a mini-Annapolis?

Chaperone:...Yes.

If the Long Island Cheerleading team didn't perform so well in DC, it's because I broke all of their legs.

My brother's blackberry during a two hour Baccalaureate Mass:

To: God
Sub: Mass
Message: Please make this end. Thank you.

Week 10: Will Work for Chocolates

Well, the gates of the Wonka Factory are finally closed once more. Let's take a look at what we've accomplished in the the past three months.

1. We managed to lock ourselves out of the company car, while it was still running
2. We performed in the Circus Capital of the nation.
3. We survived a night at the Robin Hood Motel.
4. We knocked a hole in the trailer in the middle of Montana.
5. We shake-weighted across the west coast.
6. We dipped our toes in the Pacific.
7. We got the seatbelt fixed! Only to have it break again...a week later.
8. We performed at the same theatre as Hall & Oates and Michael McDonald.
9. We became the non-equity Cabaret tour's ugly stepsister.
10. We went to the world's biggest fish fry in Tennessee.
11. We were surrounded by angels, unicorns, and fairies and other upsetting chachka in Sugar Loaf.

And at the end of it all, we can all confidently say, we tried as hard as we wanted to.

"This sucks. If only there was a Ruby Tuesdays"
"There IS a Ruby Tuesdays!"~Craig and I and exactly what we wanted on Cinco de Mayo.

Week 9: Home can be the Pennsylvania Turnpike

I dove headfirst onto the NJ transit train in NYC. I walked through the near empty train cars until I found a group of loyal employees congregating outside the train. I smiled my best “I’m clearly not from around here, could any of you fine gentleman help a girl out” smile and asked “Is this the train to Newark International?” Sizing me up in my Phillies t-shirt, one of the young men popped a piece of gum in his mouth. Orbit, if I’m not mistaken. “Yup,” he said. I kept my smile plastered on, “Thanks so much, ‘preciate it”. I flopped into my seat, embarrassed from already hopping on the wrong train once, and feeling oddly comforted by the tacky wood paneling and brown vinyl seats that is NJ Transit's signature. As the train pulled from the station my gum-chewing friend approached and took my ticket. I smiled—this time a small, tired “I’m a country gal exhausted from travelling in the bright lights of the big city” smile. It worked. “Newark airport, right? Third stop,” he said sympathetically, choosing not to notice that my ticket was expired or that I had rested my feet (black fiips flops, chipped hot pink nail polish) rudely on the seat in front of me. I find a good smile can do wonders on public transportation; especially after having a fifteen minute conversation with the cab driver over the difference between New York and Philadelphia cab drivers (While I have an inherent love of Philadelphia cab drivers, they do disconnect their meters far more than New Yorkers).

And then I was alone. I looked to my left, where sat my grey backpack. I’ve been wearing far too much grey lately, considering it’s not my color (although, who does grey really belong to?), but I examined it’s sturdy exterior. There’s a small tear from the place where I always keep my hairbrush and a small dent is visible from when I put my pack to close to a very hot make-up light in a dressing room in California. My Sigg bottle protrudes from the side, a constant and reliable companion that could never know how my heart breaks every time I am neglectful and it leaves me, only to return to me after several hours or days, willing to give me another chance. But besides the newscasters staring down at my from a Fox news ad ("Get to know us personally!" It said. No, thank you.), I am alone. There’s a certain calm in that. That you and your backpack could ride to the end of the line and take off. Of course you won’t. You have responsibilities and people who depend on you…but still the option is there. At the end of my trip, I sit at the parking station waiting for the shuttle. A station employee approaches at my right and asks “Where ya goin?” “Home,” I answer, more out of defense and instict than truth. “Where’s that?” He asks. I breath in the premature summer air and smell the rain as it wraps around my heart, slowing it’s ever accelerated beat to a calmer clip and smile to myself this time as I say, “Anywhere."

Sage: "Yvette, you ate chicken the other day! So you're only a vegetarian when you choose to be!"
Yvette: "That's right"
Me: "Isn't America wonderful?"~teaching children patriotism.

Week #7: Charlie and the Series of Jokes that Aren't Funny

Returning from my hiatus, I arrive at the hotel in Newark.

Concierge: May I help you?

Me: Hi, checking in under Burke.

Concierge: I don't see it.

Me: Maybe it's under Spanelli?

Concierge: Nick?

Me: That's it!

Concierge:...but I don't know who you are.

Me: I'm Kristen Burke, I'm with the touring company that the keys are saved under. Signstage? Windwood?

Concierge: I mean, I have it here. But I mean...who ARE you?

Me:...still Kristen.

He then shrugged and literally tossed the key at me. What ever to those friendly singing bellhops from the 40's.

Shows are more fun when you have "Bros" working back stage. "Bros" are young men who travel in bands much like the ancient Inuits, except instead of seal skin coats, they wear fraternity sweatshirts and khaki shorts. They're language style is as thus:

Me: So, you all go to Frostburgh State?

Bros: Yeah

Me: A good friend of mine went there--

Bro #1: She sounds AWESOME!

Me: Yes...yes she is.

Finally, you know you're in Florida when the business men come to breakfast in khakis and flip-flops and the women wear pastel pink plaid shorts and insist that the housekeeping staff try the soy milk she demanded, while these women nod patronizingly and return to their coffee.

Take two and never call me again

Doctor: Loss of appetite, fatigue, headaches... Kristen, it looks like you're just REALLY tired. What's your normal sleep schedule?

Me: My what?

Doctor: Your normal sleep schedule?

Me: I don't understand.

Doctor: Well...explain to me your sleep patterns of the last week.

Me: Well, after losing an hour for daylight's savings time on tour, I was up all night thanks to a beeping fire alarm and some people yelling in Spanish by my door, I tried to sleep in the van but the only way to sleep is to curl yourself up around your backpack kind of like that blue painting of that guy curled around the guitar, you know which one I mean? I think it was Picasso? I dunno, I'm bad with art. So the next night I almost got some sleep but my roommate was running in from the laundry mat at 2 am which was actually just some sort of late night party shop that let her IN to the local laundry mat to wash our costumes. And then I could've slept through the next night, but there was a small earthquake. I mean I didn't really feel it, but Mark did. Do you think Deaf people are more prone to feel earthquakes? Something to look into. Anyway, our producers overbooked us, so we got to the next hotel at 2 am and had to be up at 6 am. They gave us an hour to nap in between shows, but my roommate lost her key and then the laundry had to be done the next morning at 7 am and I tried to sleep on the plane but the jet lag was terrible as was that awful DeNiro movie "Everybody's Fine" which made me want to cry infront of a planeful of strangers and that pretty much brings us up to now.

Doctor:....I think what you have is severe exhaustion.

Me: I think what I have is a career in the arts.

Scenes from a Philadelphia changing room.

Shopping in Philadelphia during spring break is like running with wildebeests in a stampede, except you're trying to go the opposite direction. Here are some conversations I heard during my much needed retail therapy:

Girl #1: That ain't a dress
Girl #2: Yes, it is!
Girl#1: No, it ain't! That's a shirt!
Girl #2: Ma'am, is this a dress?
Stranger: Yeah.
Girl #1: Aight, but you bend over and people gonna see yo' business.
Girl#2: Well ya know what? Rise and shine! And you can't wear that-you look like an oompa loompa.

And from the Express in Liberty Place.

Girl #1: Linda! Where's the baby?

I'd like to take a moment of silence for my Phillies cap. Though you were free, given to me by a snotty bride back in my awful catering days, I treasured you as if you were worth all the tacky center pieces and left over pastries I was allowed to bring home from the National Constitution Center. I hope wherever you are in the continental United States, someone is wearing you with pride, ready for opening day.

Someone also kicked my suitcase two minutes after I landed in Philly...and I smiled. I love this town.

"I'll leave you with the tv- America's nightlight."~KS

Week 5

Touring across the country is a roller coaster of experiences as you drive the fine line between heaven and hell:

Heaven is a capable local crew who calls out line weights in some kind of glorious yet familiar herald, hell is a 90 pound girl and a tech director with some kind of growth that is preventing him from lifting anything.

Heaven is hot tub, cocktails, and pizza under the stars, hell is the frozen outdoor pool in a motel named after mythological English heros.

Heaven is 2$ Microbrews in Billings, Montana, hell is being stuck for 4 hours because the woman who moved the trailer so it wouldn't be towed also knocked a hole in it by driving under an overhang.

Heaven is local hangouts, BBQ's in Portland, and free lunches, hell is the Dude Rancher Lodge....which is exactly what it sounds like.

Heaven is sleep number matresses and pillows with varying firmness, hell is messy bathrooms, scratchy sheets, a fire alarm that beeps for 6 hours and a group of people and their prostitutes hanging out outside your door at 4 am so that instead of sleeping you end up watching Donnie Darko on MTV during the wee hours*

And at the end of the day, your worst day doing what you love is still better than your worst day doing what you don't. So make your peace with it!

"All Deaf people must wear mittens."~ML on sensitivity in the workplace.

*Disclaimer: Donnie Darko is still an awesome movie, though.

Week 4: From Blizzards to Bread Basket

Farmers know how to party, although frankly, one can only hear so much about cow hooves without getting queasy.

When the owner of the theatre tells you they are "taking you to lunch", that apparently can mean that they will walk you to a local deli and immediately leave you and your cast to fend for yourself. We didn't cover this in business charm school.

The prairies are fascinating, which is, I believe, the first time that word has been used to describe prairies. The sheer nothingness is what grabs you. Free from the confines of buildings, plant life or even in the occasional hill, it's as if someone has taken an eraser to the horizon....and then used Word Paint to fill it in with blue.

And out of no where comes the windmills. Space-aged versions of what Don Quixote once challenged so foolishly, they appear giant and gleaming white stark against the silent sky like an alien race, but unobtrusively so...reminding you that you are, in fact, the intruder on their land.

Being limited to a VHS and a tape deck gives you excellent justification to play Fried Green Tomatoes, League of their Own, and the cassettes for NSYNC and the BackStreet Boys.

Week 3: Listen, we tried as hard as we wanted to...

I think I can add Ohio to places that I have visited that I never really need to see again...but will have to anyway. Sure, there are new best friends I will miss; the Kardashians, Super Nanny, Snookie, the cast of SVU, the cast of the Real World, Beardy Mcgrocery guy, Creepy Art Docentstein, and Cutey BrokenArm Bouncerberg. Hm, a lot of my fake nicknames sound Jewish. What does that mean?

And the rules as I have been taught this past week:

You cannot buy a Shakeweight at Walmart, but you can buy a gun.

Actors don't need to eat, and deaf people don't feel head trauma.

Snow is God's water.

ACME food is disappointing, "But that's what I get for buying my groceries where they make anvils"~CF.

"It's a trust fall. The floor will catch you"~Keith

Me: White chocolate isn't really chocolate.
Mark: That's OUTRAGEOUS~ A normally stoic Mark gets mad about one thing.

Week 2- Making your peace with it

There's a billboard in Akron, OH that says "Get a vasectomy during March Madness, Win a Free Pizza!" First question, what is the connection between a vasectomy (a procedure for men who don't wish to have any more children) and March Madness (I believe this refers to basketball, but honestly, I stopped watching basketball after Shaq left the Orlando Magic)? Second question, why is a free pizza an appropriate incentive to get a vasectomy? "Yeah man, actually I really wanted to have two more kids...but then they offered me a free pizza..."

Two children are running up the stairs of the church towards a group of teens:

child #1: I'm not a man. I'm a WOMAN!
child #2: Oh, yeah? When you gonna have a baby!
(Teens chuckle)
teen #1: Ha! 'When You gonna have a baby!' Remember that?
teen #2:...It happened 30 seconds ago.

If Patti LuPone and Mandy Pitinkin call you on stage to do a kick line while you're signing, you say "how high"?

Whenever there's an awkward pause onstage, the appropriate response is to rush the stage like chimpanzees and have a giant MONKEY FIGHT!

"This stapler is my brush."~Craig on the lack of supplies at the Akron Museum of Art Craft station.

Identity Crisis

So lately, some one has been trying to steal my identity. Stuff stolen, accounts hacked, etc. But I feel I should warn them, that beneath all the inherent awesomeness that is me, it's not always easy being Kristen...

I'm the kind of girl who goes to a petting zoo only to be run down my a bull and have it crush my left foot.

I'm the kind of girl who gets back on the horse, only to be bucked off twice more.

I'm the kind of girl who at the age of three, thought dogs should live in the wild and so released her neighbors terrier yelling "Go! Run free with your kin!" (or ya know, the three year old version of that)

I'm the kind of girl who gets robbed by a one-legged man named Gomez on the King Kong ride at Universal Sutdios.

I'm the kind of girl who at the age of five thought the cartoon about the flying fish did not teach us to try, try again...but taught us that if we jumped off enough high things, humans could fly too.

I'm the girl who goes to girl scout camp in a tornado.


I'm the kind of girl who ends up in a California king sized bed in Ohio...with no pillows.

I'm the kind of girl who tells her date she used to not pay for cable, only to find out he works for Comcast.

I'm the kind of girl who gets her finger shut in a mousetrap much like Tom in Tom and Jerry.

I'm the kind of girl who borrows heels from the costume shop for an event, without realizing there are taps on the bottom. Damn tile floors.

I'm the kind of girl who at the age of 10, put cumin on applesauce, because I thought the jar said cinnamon.

I'm the king of girl who ends up on crutches the day SEPTA decides to strike.

So there you go, guy. Just a couple of things I should warn you about before you decide to be me. Please do not pity me, for I am in fact superfly, but with excellence comes clumsiness. There are more that my readers are sure to attest to, but it's breakfast time, and I'm sure this will get you started. Hugs and kisses from me to me.

"I didn't write it"~A throw back to JM on acting the text.

Week 1- A Winter in Ohio

#40: Week One- A Winter in OhioShare

Ways to look stupid in Cleveland, Ohio:

The ASL sign for "depends" is dangerously close to the sign for "bacon". For example, the other day I signed "I'm gonna have to bacon on you for this one." "Jacket" also looks like "monkey". IE "Well, let's all put on our monkeys and search for the golden ticket". Finally, the sign for "recent" is very close to the sign for "sexy". IE "This, Charlie, is my sexiest invention..."

Don't forget to interpret for the Deaf actors. It will cause them to sign from across the room "Hello?! Remember me? I'M DEAF!"

When your boss tells you they found a giant eagle in their car, try and stifle the urge to jump and say "Wow! How did it get IN there?!" It will make you feel pretty stupid when you realize Giant Eagle is a popular local grocery store.

"Women don't control the world; they just control the men who control the world"~The old man who decided to shuffle up to me in the grocery store today. He didn't say anything else and he didn't buy anything, so this must be some kind of Sunday night ritual.

How Not to Spend Valentine's Day

So, you're trying to take a girl out for a romantic evening in Akron, OH, huh? Well, Valentine's Day falls on a Sunday, and Sunday is for the Lord, so that might be a problem. Well, Red Fox Bar and Grille is open...sort of. If your honey has her ID stolen, she's not gonna be able to drink. Not to worry! The waitress says the cook doesn't come into work, but she can turn on the fryer and make you "Burgers or anything fried." Oh..your date's a vegetarian? Well, that's ok. The waitress will go out back and "see if she can find any vegetables in the ice box she can fry up". As you ponder the five year old waiting for his birthday party in the pool hall, when there IS a McDonald's playplace two steps away, the waitress will no doubt return, her venture proving fruitless. Hm. Ok...well, there's a Mexican restaurant across the street! El Churro-it looks like a cross between an El Azteca and a giant clown convention. But hey, they have $2 margaritas! Your date will like that!...Except it's Sunday...and Sunday is for the Lord...and they can't sell alcohol. Hm...Well, I know this seems like a frustrating Valentine's Day, but there ARE endless chips and salsa and who knows? You may just get yourself a balloon animal!

Mandatory mood-lighting will be created when you blow a fuse trying to plug in two heaters at once on the second floor.

"Hm, there's the other half of the bath"~C and I explore our surroundings.

Love and Educational Psychology

My favorite Valentine`s Day Fable:

Me: Happy Valentine`s Day, Dr V!

Proffesor: Why, thank you!

Yvette: Dya get you girlfriend anything?

Prof: I gave her a text message.

Yvette:...a text message? what did it say?

Prof: HVD

Me: What?

Prof: you know, happy valentine`s day.

Me: That`s not how you say happy valentine`s day! That just sounds like you gave her a venerial disease!

HVD everyone! Follow the pancake on the road as I travel cross country. See you in Cleveland!

Tales fromt he Box: Part II

The box office preparing for a snow storm:

Me: Hi, thisisKristenhowcanIhelpyou?

Woman: Hi, I'd like to exchange my tickets from Saturday to next week.

Me: Sure, I can do that for you.

Woman: Sorry, it's just that with the snow..

Me: No, I completely understand. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do, either.

Woman: Well, here's whatcha do, you go out and find yourself a cute man. Then, you bring him home and keep him warm all weekend!

Me: Ha! I better start looking then.

Woman: I know!

Me: I mean, what am I still talking to you for?

Woman: Right! KRISTEN, get OFF the PHONE!

#36: If it takes a village, we're all idiots.

As I approach my one year anniversary with, and appropriately enough, hiatus from the Philly Kids Gym, I feel it important to review what we've learned this year. Consider this your study guide for the SATS.

1. When it comes to things that require a parent's immediate attention: Gucci > Baby.

2. There are several breeds of nannies: over-protective, future super moms, jaded hipsters (that's redundant), women who make me regret never learning Spanish (or Portugese, for that matter), cool Upenn students, and girls who apparently think they can choke me just by glaring into my soul (much like Darth Vader).

3. 16 months: the appropriate age to start popping your sons collar.

4. Bubble time: The great equalizer.

5. Bouncy balls are to babies, as oil is to the US. One baby totally Shawshank Redemptioned me by hiding in the tunnel with on all class.

6. Soccer net = baby hammock

7. Hockey is the absolute worst sport to teach a three year old. Here! Run with this stick!

8. Give a man a fish, he'll eat for a day. Teach a baby to tumble, and he'll spend the rest of the hour doing "downward dog", waiting patiently for someone to flip him over.

9. Babies are excellent at the guido fist pump. The best song to teach babies to dance is "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. The worst is "C'mon ride the Train"...didn't really realize how dirty that song is til I put it on the mix...

10. It's important not to be too good at this job. You may inspire four year-olds to yell "I want to work at the Philly Kids Gym!" in a round that rivals the famous "I am Spartacus!" scenario. Oops.

"Bats don't like peguins"~four-year old on zoology.

Up the Down Escalator

In Manhattan, there are many ways to occupy your time while waiting for your bus. I usually dip one of my many Starbucks gift cards, just so I might be allowed to use their restrooms. Or perhaps, I'll stop in a hotel lobby and pretend I'm a guest, just so I can change into walking shoes. I've even been known to run through the giant Toys R Us, just so I can experience the joy of running through the giant Toys R Us. Today, however, I chose the Madison Square Garden Borders. Wandering aimlessly through the other travelers, I hopped on the escalator to the second floor. Suddenly, the man on downward escalator spit. Now, I'm not horrified by spit in the normal sense. On a scale from 1 to Tiger Wood's sex partners, it ranks about a four on the grossometer. On the street, in the grass, on a Yankee's fan, all fine! But this man was INDOORS. In a BORDERS! I mean, is nothing sacred? Given it was on an escalator, but still! As I approached the second floor, a serious, gray looking man stood before me.

Man: Welcome to the second floor.

Me: Thank you...glad to be here.

Man: The EXCITING second floor.

Me: No, I can tell...It's the place to be.

Man: Ya think?

Me: I do think.

A tip when trying to find a place to sit and read in the Madison Square Garden Borders...there's never anybody in the Christian Fiction aisle.

Waiting for theatres to call you is like waiting for a cute boy to call you...except a million times worse.

"Me: Hey man, want some fries?
Drunk Irish Dude: No thanks. I'm driving"