30 Rock shoot, part deux

One of 30 Rock's assistant producer, assigned to take care of me and the other actress playing in the same scene, escorts us to one of sets, where Tina Fey is already shooting her solo scenes.
"Hi I'm Tina, nice to meet you..."she says to both of us, shaking my hand and the other woman's.
"Hi, I'm Maria, pleasure to meet you..."
I'm not going to bug her with prounancing Marija.
It was...pretty normal, like it wasn't the Tina Fey.
Then we sit with the writer and two directors, and another 20 assistant-somethings, and watch Tina's solo shoots from the high chairs with black fabric back. The makeup artist touches my face up once in a while.
There were really many people in the studio, during the shoot. I have no idea what all of they do, but I'm sure there is a job for every single one of them.
They are everywhere behind the cameras. They watch the shoot, they laugh, because Tina is genuinely funny, and everyone seems to worship her.
"Tina's great, " one of the makeup artists told me while I was in her chair.
And yes, she really is.
She was very easy to work with, and I have to admit, I was a little nervous. Not only because the shoot, but becuase of working with her. Nervous in a good way. I even laughed once during our shoot, so they had to redo it. Damn. In that moment, I felt like an amateur. I was embaressed. But she was really funny, and it was almost impossible to keep my mouth closed. Tina just said to the director: "Should we do it again?" and we did.
In the first scene, we were told to dance with Tina, in the 80s style, with our hands up. Then try to get in front of her. Steal her spotlight. Yeah, right.
In the second one, it was only me and her.
"You can touch me whereever you'd like, " I said something of a sort to Ms. Fey. Yes, I did. Let me explain.
The scene described that Tina's character is touching the Russian girl awkwardly. So I gave her permission to do whatever necessary for the scene to be good. For the sake of art, and comedy!
At the same time, the director told me to look at the camera, and ignore her, because "I'm a professional, " meaning, a pro actress in the scene.
To that remark Tina joked at her own expense: "And I'm just an idiot amateur..."
A scene was shot in front of a fireplace with candles. And my hair had a lot of hairspray on it. Ms. Fey warned me to be careful during the shoot, and not get my hair close to the candles. She pointed the same out to the directors. How thoughtfull of her.
Then the pizza feeding scene. That was also hilarious to shoot. I was feeding Tina Fey pizza.
I wish I could remember every little moment of that shoot, every conversation we had while waiting for another take. I remember clearly how funny, pleasant and normal she was every step of the way.
The shoot was a success and the directors shook my hand and thanked me. I told Tina it was a pleasure to work with her. She was whisked away fast after that.
And Alec Baldwin was watching the part of the shoot. And laughing.
It was a great experience, all around. And I got paid for it, of course.
My hairdo lasted for another three days, in a slighty different form. It went with me to L.A, the day after the shoot. How appropriate.

30 Rock shoot

After the interview/audition for a featured part on 30 Rock, I was sent to fitting. It's a huge closet-room, with three people workin, I guess a seamstress and costume designers? So the woman who plays the Latina and me are given several outfits to try on. They are funny, and cheap, and trying them on was a bit embarrassing as it was fun. It was like releasing your inner " slut" if you have one. A lot of polyester, leopard patterns, flammable materials...too short, or transparent or both.
I'm trying a dress on. I come out for the designers to see me. One says: "I think you have it reversed..." The big hole is suppose to go in front, not in the back. I felt like I was already in a comedy.
After they chose costumes they liked on us, and photographed us for the director to see, we were released with the 11AM call time for the shoot.
The day after, I come back to the same Silvercup Studios, go to the same holding, where we wait for the wardrobe and makeup, before the shoot. So the assistant producer, whose sole job on this day is to take care of me and the other actress, explains where the craft services are so I can grab a drink and maybe a bite. I go down, to the ground floor, through some very long hallways, and out to what it looks like a storage area. But this bare-wall, grey area, high and cold, is what connects different studios where different scenes are shot. I get to the craft, which is a long table with food and drinks on it, anything you could think of from pastry to coffee. I grab a small pastry, and next to me is Alec Baldwin. He's wearing a dark gery suit and has tones of makeup on his face. He's obviously shooting somewhere near by. I don't want to behave like a layman, so I behave like a professional, just saying hello to him, normally. He says hello back, while he munches on something, and I get some tea and leave. There were several other people around there, including Tracy Morgan.
But I'm here to do a job, and I don't want to be away for a long time fro where I'm suppose to be, so I go back to my holding room. From there, two of us were escorted by an assistant producer to the wardrobe, where they had a different outfit picked out for me--a short leopard dress and green platform sandals, two sizes too big.
They liked it on me, and then they send both of us to makeup.
To get to makeup, you go past the craft services again, but Baldwin was there no more.
We bumped into the blond, young actor who plays the paige on the show. Kennan? He was nice, said hello as well, and left. Then, Jane Krakowski walked in. I believe hers and Tina Fey's dressing rooms, are just off the makeup and hair room. So I had my makeup done, in the 80s style, then my hair, and I looked ridiculous. My hair was huge, and I had way too much makeup on me. While it was done, Tina Fey walked in, and soon, another makeup artists was doing her simultaniously as mine. I could see her in my mirror. She had her back to me. When I was done, Jane Krakowski came to me and said something along the lines: "I don't think we were introduced... Hi, I'm Jane."
"Hi, I'm Marija Stajic, it's a pleasure to meet you...You were great in Ally McBeal..."
"Thank you," she said. "Are you Polish?"
I guess my accent...
"No, I'm Serbian, but you're of Polish origin...right...Krakowski?"
"Yes..."
We chatted for a another minute. The Slavic connection.
She was very nice. She's very thin, and also had a lot of makeup on her face. But, hey, it's TV.
As a matter a fact, everyone there was extremely pleasant. Everyone was smiling while working. "It's such a happy work environment," I remember thinking...
I also remember Ms.Fey joking while they were doing her makeup and putting the wig on for our scene.
Then I was taken back to holding.
The lunch. Tina Fey comes in and has lunch with everyone else, the production line, in this big communal dinning room, with million buffets, again, with anything I could possibly think of from fish to desert.
The lunch is done an hour later. We are still waiting for our scene to be called upon, in our costumes. It's already the afternoon...
After lunch? It's such a long story...
Tune in tomorrow :)

How I got a part on 30 Rock, or one thing Isabella Rossellini and I have in common...kind of

One January day, I was blissfully window-shopping in Grand Central Station after a New England Clam Chowder and Oyster lunch in my favorite restaurant in New York City-Oyster Bar.
My phone rings. I pick it up, even though I didn't recognize the number (I rarely do that), and on the other end is a casting director I registered with more than a year ago. I completely forgot about it since she hasn't called me in a while.
"Are you available to come to an interview for a featured part on 30 Rock this afternoon a 5pm?" she asks. It was about 2pm. "Sure," I said. Even if I had something else, I would have cancelled it.
So I go home, get ready and take a cab to Silvercup Studios in Long Island City. Those are the home studios of Sex and the City, and Sopranos, which is obvious from the posters in the lobby. My name is on the list, so I'm sent up to some floor.
There was another young lady there, waiting to audition, but she looked completely different than I. She was pretty big, and had dark hair. Then others starts coming. Attractive African-American girl, an older attractive Russian woman, a non-attractive Caucasian one who likes to talk a lot...
Then one of the assistant producers comes to bring us to the 30 Rock office, where there are cubicles, with computers, and then separate offices along the walls.
There are pictures of Tina Fey and the whole cast from different magazines and papers everywhere.
The assistant producer said the director is busy so she'll bring a writer and a producer to help with casting. One by one, we get into this small office, with TV on the back wall, a table next to it, a long desk and comfortable chairs. There are two men sitting down, smiling, one younger, blonde, one, dark-haired, middle-aged. There are both producers/writers of 30 Rock, but at the time, I had no idea how big or important for the show they were.
They ask us to act out different situations--dancing, feeding each other pizza...
Silly, right? But it's a comedy, and if Tina Fey can do it, so can I, I thought.
So they do this a couple of times, mix us up to act with each other, then they took a couple of minutes, and the female assistant producer, Ms. B., said that I and the young woman with big mouth, have gotten the parts.
I actually kind of knew it, for myself. I was so right for the part. They were looking for one Russian, and one Latina woman. Also, I know I can act.
But I was surprised for my partner. Actually, she wasn't really my partner. All the shots I did, I did with Tina Fey. The "Latina" woman, was alone in one shot with Ms. Fey. She was besides herself when she heard the good news. She kept saying that she didn't expect it either. We both thought that the attractive African-American woman will get the second one. She was good, but I guess she didn't fit what they were looking for.
The shoot was set for the morning after, 11am. So I went home, this time on the train, very excited about tomorrow.
To be continued...

How I also met Isabella Rossellini, in the same week

A friend invited me to Hearst's reception, in Hearst building, stone-throw away from Central Park, dedicated to Italian fashion and lifestyle campaign Hearst is launching with Italian Trade Mission in New York City. Isabella Rossellini was one of the guests.
When I arrived, at the door, there they were--my friend, standing with Ms.Rossellini and a couple of Italian gentlemen. So my friend introduced me, right then and there, to Ms. Rossellini, as an actress and a writer. She's very warm and quite beautiful from up close. She smiled, shook my hand and said:" Oh, really? " "Not nearly as accomplished as you are...(unfortunately)...I admire your work..." I said. "Thank you," Rossellini said, charmingly. She was wearing a black suit and red lipstick. She has a stunning smile!
One Italian gentleman turned out to the head of Italian Trade Commision in New York City. He later had a funny and inteligent speech, mostly in English, on the 44th floor of Hearst building. I can't remember his name for the life of me...will get back to you on that.
When I got to the reception hall on the 44th floor, I was stunned by the view. Oh my God, it was heavenly. That is, by far, the best view of New York City I have ever seen. It wasn't only the height, it was also the location. I've been on the 40 something floor before, but on the East side and far from Central Park. Pale in comparison. Here, you could see the whole Central Park, the whole New York City from those floor-length windows.
"Would you like a Bellini?" a waiter asked as I was walking into this spacious, glaced conference room, drawn by the windows, with nothing but tables with drinks and a podium.
"Yes, please, " I said. After all, looking at the New York City from the 44th floor with a glace of Bellini, is...for the lack of a better term--heaven! The waiters have also been bringing me these delicious little snacks every minute--salmon this, truffle cheese that... Yummy!
I soon realized, even mesmerized by the view, that I didn't bring my camera. So I asked one of the nice guys from the retail business I met there to take a picture of me, with the view. At least something to remember these moments by. Not that I can forget.
The main speaker was the impressive Valerie Salembier, senior vice president and publisher of Harper's Bazaar. She had a long detailed speech on the launch of the new Italian fashion and lifestyle campaign in the United States, with slides and music.
Ms. Rossellini came to the podium just for a minute to thank the speakers for inviting her. But she was, obviously, the most popular guest there. It took me a while to get to her again.
You'll probably think I'm crazy but I gave Ms. Rossellini my postcard on the way out, saying that, being an actress, I would love to talk to her some time about her career. She took it, put it in her pocket, and smiled. She's not going to call, of course. But at least I tried. I also introduced myself to Ms. Salembier as a freelance writer, which is what I also am.
Gave my card, congratulated her on the speech...Blah, blah...
Then I left, buzzed with three or four Bellinis (they're served in a tiny champagne glass, in my defense,) the view, and the whole atmosphere of power around me.
p.s. I really need to publish my book. But I need to finish it first.
p.p.s. I am either an ultimate Renaissance woman, or, for the lack of a better word, confused. Or I have ADD.
p.p.p.s. "It's good to be the King..."

How I met two presidents in one week, part deux

One September day, I found out that Serbian President Boris Tadic will open one of the seven days of UN’s General Assembly’s Debate. And I have a pass.
I was stopped about six times even before I entered the UN building on 46th street and 1st Avenue of New York City. The surrounding streets were barricaded, with police officers and security guards on every corner. I had to show my badge about 10 times before I actually got to the General Assembly's amphitheater. Every door, every elevator had security. They even stopped me once on the 3rd floor, for not having my badge on display.
Just as I walked in, and decided on a seat behind the Bulgarian desk and media, and with a great view of the Serbian desk, there he was. President Tadic walking to the designated Serbian desk, with Vuk Jeremic, Serbian minister of foreign affairs, and the entourage. I didn’t know that the President of a small country needs so many people in his entourage to speak at the UN. But, New York City IS a popular tourist destination…
It’s about 3:05pm. Tadic gets up from his chair, tall and handsome, and walks toward the podium. Then goes around it. Then emerges again from behind it. There are still hundreds of seats empty in the huge hall, while people from all parts of the world are constantly coming in. There’s constant motion on the floor.
I realize that with all these people walking every which way, I can get on the delegate’s floor too, and follow Tadic after his speech. A light bulb... A smile...
Tadic spoke for about 15 minutes, mostly English but some French as well. He spoke about climate change and global consequences, as well as Serbia’s role in addressing the global warming. Then he spoke about Southern Serbian province of Kosovo and how its independence is a violation of international law. We applauded.
After the speech, he went through a special speaker’s door. I rushed between the desks, and followed the rest of the Serbian entourage, consisted of three young women, two blondes and one brunette, and several other men besides Mr. Jeremic. They looked familiar but I couldn't place the names with the faces. On my way behind the stage, I bumped into charming Ms. Kori Udovicki, who is an Assistant Administrator and Director for Europe with the UNDP. We exchanged cards and went to greet Mr. Tadic. Behind the podium was already a short line of foreign dignitaries, wanting to talk to Tadic. I patiently stood in line, waited for only several minutes and introduced myself to Tadic, offering my hand. “…Congratulations on the great speech…” among “It’s a pleasure to meet you." And my name of course. He said HVALA couple of times and smiled. And then he said to Mr. Jeremic and the rest waiting there, that he has to go.
On my way out of there, feeling lucky and full of myself, I bumped into Srgjan Kerim, an extremely nice Macedonian Diplomat and former President of the United Nations Assembly. I hand in my card again. And walk out, to the streets of my beloved New York City, happy and optimistic.

How I met two presidents in one week

Monday. September 2009. I got invited to a reception featuring American President Barack Obama, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton and U.S.Ambassador to UN Susan Rice. No, it wasn't a dream. It happened in famed Waldorf Astoria hotel in midtown Manhattan. I don't think I have to describe how excited I was. I mean, I have loved Obama since the famous speech during the Democratic Convention in 2006. "Skinny kid with a funny name" one. I volunteered some of my time to his camping's offices in 2007, even tried to persuade potential voters in Clinton's New York City that Obama is the right choice. "But she is a woman, and my Momma is a woman, " one Hispanic gentleman tried to persuade me that a woman should be the head of the country, which I agree with completely, in general. So you could imagine how hard it was for me to shoot this one down. "I agree," I said, "but not this woman."
Back to Waldorf Astoria, where I also met Bush two years ago, and bumped into Angelina Jolie with two of her....how many kids now? I lost count.
I arrived two hours and 15 minutes before the reception is suppose to start. The line is already long to enter the ballroom, where Obama, Clinton and Rice were to speak before they shake hands with some of us and have pictures taken.
So after standing in line for two hours, and sitting in a chair with my back in pain from standing for two hours, in a gorgeous ballroom, with balcony sittings in a circular construction, featuring gold as it's primary color, and crystal chandeliers, for another half an hour, the three musketeers finally appeared, enveloped by rivers of bodyguards. There was no way for me to actually get to the President, who was protected from the chosen mob by a cordon, and bodyguards, of course, with mean looks on their faces. Who can blame them. It's a serious job.
So first Ms. Rice spoke, who I also met couple of months ago during a basketball game with her employees, and who is a super woman who I immensely admire. She introduced the guests. Then Clinton spoke. Then Obama. Honestly, I think they are both smart and accomplished people I should listen to, obviously, and I did as much as I could, but my mind was set on how to actually get to the President, actually meet him, tell him something, shake his hand. The speech was, from what I recall, about thanking U.S. UN for its important and hard work, and the current economic crises.
Anyway, I would have been very disappointed if I didn't actually meet Obama, so my husband, knowing this, came to me amongst the mob. "Come over here," he said, pulling me out of the crowd and I just left my spot trusting him. "Go here," he said pointing to the small area of the room much less crowded and reserved for --children! And their parents. There was no time to waste, so even being a little uncomfortable and looking around to see if someone is going to ask for my child's birth certificate and kick me out of there, I excepted the opportunity as an intelligent gift, waited for the President to be right in front of me and extended my hand. "It's an honor to meet you Mr.President..."
He shook my hand, and the rest is a blur.
I know there were cameras snapping all around me. And that I was happy. I even got my picture taken with the children and the President. I'm waiting for those patiently. Shame on me.
Tomorrow? How I met another President. Stay tuned...

I hate Dell

My new Dell laptop heats so much that it almost burned my legs once. Not only from below, but also on top. The touch panel is barely that-touchable.
So I contacted Dell through a chat on its Web site. The agent No.1 offered to replace it right away. But the idea of me shipping my laptop didn't appeal to me, especially so close to my trip to Europe. I was actually planning on taking it with me.
So I tried to troubleshoot-clean the vents and upload something the agent told me, but it still seemed too hot.
Then I decided to go through the drag of the replacement, and I called them. The agent No.2, and his manager assured me that someone will call me in "one to two business days" to talk about the replacement. It's been more like a business week.
So I called again. Yesterday. I put my phone on the speaker and after about 55 minutes of a wait I finally got a person to talk to, who, to my great excitement, transferred me to another department. And then, that other agent transferred me to another one, and the third one to the fourth one, and the fourth one? Back on the automated system I was on five minutes before that, for almost an hour.
I was furious, but also had to go somewhere, and frankly, I could not have been on the phone for another minute-that's how sick I was from everything.
So I tried again, to chat, last night, and again, this morning. But this morning, I've had it with them. They still wouldn't replace it, but they offered to repair it. Repair? A brand new laptop?!
So I said, rather wrote, that I will contact the lawyer in the family about the fact that Dell's new laptop almost burned me. It's a safety issue. They called within couple of hours. And they are shipping it tomorrow. Please don't tell me intimidation doesn't work.
What doesn't work is niceness. With these companies. Only. Of course!

Unread of Hamlet

I had my last Shakespeare class last Friday. My wonderful teacher even teared up while telling us to continue reading Shakespeare out loud, and with each other, something along the lines of what we did in class. It's amazing how Shakespeare's words come alive when one reads them out loud. And you understand more.
You really do.
So I was laying in bed, thinking about that, and I found myself very motivated to actually organize a read with my peers. There's a great lounge in my building, perfect for this kind of occasion.
So I sent an e-mail to all my classmates. Most of them responded with excitement and confirmed. Some of them said they can't make it, right away. Some of them ignored the e-mail.
But at the end, almost all of them dropped out for one reason of another-health, rehearsals, travel...
Anyway, I didn't want to be the one to cancel. So I made a pot of coffee and went to the lounge to wait to whomever shows up.
One person showed up. C. Bless her.
We talked, had coffee and yogurt pretzels. We read a bit of Hamlet. It's much harder with just two of us. I became tired fast.
I actually skipped two good auditions to do this read. And people didn't show up. But they would pay $250 for more-less the same thing, and show up for that. Because they payed? Go figure.

French Hell

Yesterday was not a good day for me. Not at all.
I had to get the French visa for a brief visit at the end of August. Living in the States, I forget I need visas, so M. and I bought our tickets to Paris, and booked two hotels in Paris and Rouen, without a chance for a refund. All this, even before I even submitted for my visa.
I never had a problem with getting a visa before, in Belgrade nor in D.C. So, I figured, it won't be a big deal in N.Y.C. as well.
But, they wanted me to schedule it online. The first available appointment they had was Aug. 6. And I'm taking off on Aug. 12.
Not much room for error. Story of my life.
O.K., so I thought, I have all the documents they request, and the appointment, so it still should be the same day deal.
When I got there, there were 30 people in line already at couple of minutes before 9a.m. They all had the 9 o'clock appointment. Ridiculous!
And when you get inside, there's only four people working. But to get inside, you have to go pass a stocky African-American bodyguard, who looks and behaves like you're going to prison. No kidding. He cuts you with his eyes and has a sharp tone of the voice. No politeness. So when I managed to pass him, with his searing eyes on my appointment confirmation, I found myself int he line at the top of the stairs.
So we all waited and waited. Standing. Even though we had appointments. They had a technical "glitch," they said. They couldn't take fingerprints. For about an hour. Then they started working.
And in front of my eyes a French woman and a man, kept sending people back to get more information, more documents. I was starting to worry. And you pay $55 before they even take a look at your documents. Non-refundable!
So, after two hours of waiting, I finally got to the window. Guess what? He wanted me to call the hotel in Rouen and find out the zip code?!Oh, yes!
So I had to go downstairs, call Travelocity, and get the zip code. And come back up, so they can process my visa.
I was actually lucky. They told me to come back at 3p.m. I assumed, and hoped, it is to get my visa. That was at approximately 11:30a.m.
After a short wait in the afternoon, I got my passport with the visa. One woman is front of me did not.
Have I mentioned that there was no bathroom not even chairs for all the people who were waiting?!
I was completely drained when I got home.

Brideshead Rivisited

M. and I have seen the new Brideshead Rivisited today. We both wanted to see it due to the great preview on TV and Emma Thompson. It also reminded me a bit of two of my favorite movies-Atonement and English Patient.
It was a good movie, maybe even very good, but not perfect. The acting was, however. Perfect, that is. I wish Thompson was more in it, though. But as M. rightly pointed out, this movie is based on a book.
It just seemed a bit too fast. Everything was going on fast, with trailing on some important aspects of relationships in the story. The viewers are left with not really knowing what happened to some characters and why. And also, with questions at the end of the movie, and not just the existential ones.
Anyway, you should see it. The acting is brilliant, or lack there of. The story is interesting. There's no boring moment. And it's not too long. If anything, it feels unfinished, hurried.
Oh, yes, and with some stunning shots of England.

A year?! Already?

It's August 1. It's exactly one year since M. and I moved to New York City. And we both agree on the impression that the year went by so fast. It's a bit scary, actually. I don't want my years to go by fast. I want them to last forever. Especially the good ones. Like this one.
So many things happened in the past year. We moved. M. changed his job. I tried to find a journalistic job. I failed. I started taking acting classes. I started auditioning for the first time in my life. I got my first part in the States. I got payed for the first time to act. I was in the same room with Mr.Big:)
Went to Aruba. Got another cat. Got my niece! Got to know this amazing and cruel city really well. Went to two Broadway plays. Went to three Off and Off Off Broadway plays.
Showed New York, proudly, to my parents. Started writing my book. Failed to get a UN job. Read my first Shakespeare in old English....
Today was also my last Shakespeare class. It was a good course, all eight weeks of it. I loved the teacher, and most of my colleagues. And I've learned a lot.
Now I know a monologue from Julius Cesar. Among other things. I was Portia, Brutus's wife.
And I might take another one in the fall.
When I look back at it? It seemed like it was too years ago.

Devil Wears Prada

I realized tonight that I actually love all the movies Meryl Streep is in. Well, maybe not all, but most of them, at least the ones I've seen.
M.and I have seen Kramer vs.Kramer several weeks ago, and tonight-Devils Wears Prada.
The only reason I wanted to see the Devil is Streep.
During one of my early auditions, someone asked me who my favorite actress is. "Meryl Streep, " I said, without even giving it a second thought. She absolutely gives herself completely to the every part she takes. And she's always brilliant.
She's absolutely the star of the Devil. She actually is the Devil.
The movie is very entertaining in general as well. Stanley Tucci is in it too, as well as Anne Hathaway, and they're both good, Tucci even great, as is a minorly known British actress, or an American, acting with a British accent.
Anyway, if you like Streep, and fashion, in a good, light movie, see it.

Not enought cells?

You know how American doctors only call you when there's something wrong?
Well, I got that kind of call yesterday.
Sometimes, I don't answer my land line when I'm busy doing something else. If it's really important people will call my cell phone as well.
And when I heard my Nurse Practitioner Surrogate-For-A-Doctor leaving a message on my answering machine, I sank into my sofa.
I really got scared. And then I ran to get the phone.
It seemed like an eternity while she was introducing herself again to me and starting to explain why she's calling me.
She's talking, and I'm thinking:"It could be bad, really, really bad..."
And then she said:"The first test was fine,but the lab ran out of cells to perform the second one..."
I swear to you, it's the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
I asked her, nicely, feeling revived, for an explanation.
She said that there's a law that requires the lab to use 100,000 cells to perform a test, and they didn't have enough for both, and she didn't know how many she was getting since they are invisible..."
I thought for a second that I was dreaming. Or maybe watching a Sci-Fi movie.
Nope. It really happened.
She asked me if I want to come back to the office so she can take more of my cells.
I wouldn't go back there if they would pay me. Well.
Anyway, the first test was important, That one is fine. The second one is just a formality.
For that one I need to find a real doctor. Hopefully the one who went to school to take cells.

Three cappuccions, one latte

M. and I have spent our Saturday in Greenwich Village--one of my favorite areas of Manhattan. I actually had an audition to go to, which I did, hungry, got myself a headache and could barely pronounce words let alone get the part. But I did get a call to come audition again for another play. I guess that's something.
M. was waiting for me at Gizzi's, a small, cute-looking coffee shop. Unfortunately, its cappuccino was just mediocre, as was a blueberry muffin I gorged after my audition.
Then we went to Jack's, a tiny cafe just several blocks away from Gizzi's to try it out, since M. read about it somewhere. The atmosphere was casual, pleasant and inviting, and M. liked the cappuccino there, but I thought it was just o.k. Maybe a bit strong for my taste in coffee, which is a lot of milk and sugar, as well as foam, a little bit of weak coffee,
Then we walked along Perry street where tourists were taking pictures of themselves in front of "Carrie's apartment," from Sex and the City. Beautiful street, I'd like to add, filled with trees and colorful brownstones. Loved to live there. No wonder they chose the location for the show.
Today, we went to the Sicafe, on the Upper East Side. I thought that its latte was good, and cappuccino mediocre, at best. This time, M. agreed with me. Sicafe is a bit bigger than the ones in Greenwich Village as well as more modern and expensive looking.
We also checked out Dylan's candy store, a huge, flamboyant, fun and expensive candy store, that, according to a sweet 70-something lady on the street, is owned by Ralph Laurent's daughter. It's great for taking pictures and gifts, but not really for actually buying candy. It's a bit pricey, but what would you expect for such a shiny, tourist-attracting spot.

Sleepless, healthless

No wonder married men live longer than single, and married women less than the "less" fortunate ones. I know this from my own example, since my husband is trying to shorten my life every night--with air conditioning!
I woke up, again, with a headache bigger than my head, and runny nose. There's no other reason for it than the noisy air conditioning he can't sleep without. And I can't sleep. Period.
This is the second time within a week that I woke up feeling stuffy, and not my best. And I am sure it's because it's too cold in our room all night long, plus the quality of sleep is deprived. There's your recipe for sickness.
And I have an important audition today. And another one. And my class.
I can barely keep my head on top of my shoulders.
I can see how the earlier generations may have been wise when I thought they were conservative--by sleeping in separate rooms.

Chauvinists on the DC Balkan list

I got into an e-mail fight with couple of men from the same list we subscribe to.
It all started when some idiot sent an offensive note and picture to everyone on the list, including me. It was offensive primarily to women, but I would think to all mature human beings.
The most I can say about it is that it was a photograph of a bicycle in the shape of a woman, followed by crude and vulgar comments.
So, off course, I reacted angrily. And promptly, and sharply. I was not about to have this filth sent around without showing loudly how outraged I am. To everyone on the list.
Other people jumped in. Some were trying to subside the argument. But some really put oil on fire.
So it mostly turned into a back-and-forth fight between this complete idiot calling himself Daniel and me. He was not only justifying the guy who sent the offensive picture and note, but encouraging him and tapping him on the back for it?!
After a while, I realized that I'm getting too drown into the argument with a complete loser out there. Why would I do that? I was just wasting my time, and some nerves. I hate to admit but it was getting to me--the whole human stupidity, in the worst form.
So I wrote to this Daniel that he is a fool and a red neck, and unsubscribed from the list.
I was happy to see later that my sister picked up where I left of, but she was much more subtle in her punches. She called his problem a "small penis" complex. As you can imagine, a sexist and a chauvinist didn't like that. After a few more e-mails, she off course, knocked him out of it.
So proud of her.

Actor's Reality

I was invited to participate in an Actor's Reality TV show in Manhattan. There was approximately 20 to 30 of us there. In this refrigerator of a TV studio.
It was a very modest version of American Idol for actors--not nearly as much publicity and only two judges. One was a woman who works with hip-hop artists and the other one some guy-- award winning director.
And the games began, to last for three hours. First all of us did about 30 seconds worth of monologues. Then we got the feedback, and about half of us were called back, into the second round, to do an improvisation. And I was one of them.
I did get a 19-year-old female partner who did not help me at all with the improv. But I wasn't shining either. I did improvs in class, but this was different--NO time to think about it, they give you the situation and the characters and say: "action," I've never seen my partner in life before, and she wasn't good. Also, it was all in front of the camera. It was just o.k. We didn't screw up but it wasn't funny. And usually they are supposed to be funny or really interesting.
Anyway, this funny short big hair guy Scott won. He was pretty good. Mostly funny. And reminds me tremendously of my Californian friend Brian.
I wonder what my doppelganger is doing now?

Are doctors suppose to waste your life or should insurance do that?

I had one of my annual doctor's appointments on Monday. I ended up waiting and waiting before one of the office employees came to tell me that my medical insurance does not accept this doctor and that they are working on it. I thought that was strange. I did find her name on my insurance Web page. So I waited. Got more frustrated. Went outside to eat. Talked on the phone. Flipped through magazines. Froze my bones in the waiting room. Then the same person came out, apologized profusely and offer to reschedule, since the other doctor, who accepts my insurance or my insurance accepts her, is in the operating room. All this after an hour and a half!
So I said yes, rescheduled for today and went home thirsty for blood.
I called my insurance right away, of course, and they said, and I quote: "I don't know what they are talking about..." Typical. They are throwing balls into each other's courts over my back. The insurance said they will call them and get back to me.
Never did.
So I went to my appointment today. I only waited five-ten minutes which in N.Y.C. apparently is a speed of light. When it comes to the wait time in doctors' offices.
At the end, I wasn't examined neither by Doctor No.1 nor Doctor No.2.
I was examined by a Nurse Practitioner. I am stunned.
Please, if you happen to read this, do not ever go to Murray Hill OBGYN on the 28Th. st.

Audition. 21. SoHo. Gelato. Handcock. Popcorn.

I had a very active Saturday. Got up early. Went to the gym while doing the laundry(The laundry room is on the same floor as the gym. Good or Bad?)Got ready and walked to Cafe Emilia in East Village, with M., where I had some crema cappuccino which translates into cappuccino with a 1000 calories, and M. had eggs and a plain one. Not together obviously. Cafe Emilia is an extremely friendly place, run by real Italian brothers with great inexpressive, creative food and coffee. This was my second time. One of the brothers didn't even charge M. for eggs since the wait was a bit longer than it should be. How often do you see that? M. of course was impressed and tipped him almost as much as the eggs would be.
Then we went home to rest, since I had a scheduled audition for a radio show in SoHo in the evening. We had, what in seemed to be, a five minute nap, and went back on our way.
The audition was fast and fun. I read a script in three different characters-myself, an older Russian woman, and a child. It was really fun, but it all depends on how much they like my slight Eastern European accent. I can't really speak without it. Unless I practise the text. This was a cold read.
Then we went shopping-I bought a beautiful dress in Forever 21. Then M. took me to this tiny gelato place on Mott Street, and we walked with our huge gelatos in our hands to the Union Square. We decided to see any movie we might enjoy, even on a superficial level. We saw Handcock, since that one was not a long wait. It actually wasn't bad. It was entertaining. Even funny at moments. And surprising. But far from a work of art.
We came home almost at midnight. And we didn't turn into pumpkins.

Out! Out! Quickly!

If I don't have to be somewhere in the morning, I try to work out. I get bored easily so my workouts last about 30 minutes, which is all one needs in a day to stay healthy. But yesterday, even though I didn't have to be anywhere, I had to get out. Out! Outside of my building, not only outside of the apartment.
I only had one goal going out-to have pictures from the concert developed. But the drugstore I do that in, is literally across from my building. So I had to think of other things to do, to stay out and moving. I went to the post office. I checked out several stores. I even went to DMV to ask about what I can do with my international drivers licence--something I've been avoiding for almost a year. And I had lunch with M. in Bryant Park.
The reason I had to be out was the concert the night before. I made me so restless.
p.s.The throwaway camera pictures were as bad as expected. I guess I just have to go to another Bregovic's concert. And bring digital camera. And flowers.