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.

New York on Bregovic's feet

I've been to the concert of my life so far, yesterday in Lincoln Center-Goran Bregovic & Wedding and the Funeral Band's one.
It was phenomenal, everything, that is. Amazing music, singers, trumpet players, and the whole concept of the interaction between Bregovic and the crowd.
At first, people were sitting down in their comfortable chairs. But that became increasingly difficult as the songs were becoming faster and tantalizing--people were dancing in their chairs, with hands, bodies swinging as much as they could, singing...
Finally couple of girls got up, and then I said: "I can't stand it anymore, I have to get up!" So I excused myself to the people in my row and run to the front of the stage to join a person or two dancing over there. Then everybody got up! It was a goose bumping moment. A collective trance! And it stayed that way for another two hours!
I had to get back to my seat because I was dying of thirst. And when I wanted to get back, it was impossible to get so close to the stage. But I still got my fair share of dancing in the aisle. And singing in front of my seat, "Ruzica si bila..." so loud that people were turning around to see who's singing.
I've never been to Bregovic's concert before, but now I am a convert. I will go to the every one I can from now on.
Even when the band allegedly finished its concert, people were stomping their feet loudly( including moi) and Bregovic came back twice, but like he was trying to brush us of, just thanking us with his hand on his heart. But then he sent just two flute players, which provoked laughs in the audience. It was funny compared to the previous strong, loud, moving music. But then the whole band came back and stayed for a while, playing the most popular songs, such as Kalashnikov.
Some kind soul videotaped it last night, and here's the link.
It's Mea Culpa for not bringing my digital camera, but a throw away one. Can't wait to develop those.
I wish I had remembered to bring flowers as well, so I can meet him. Oh, well...next time?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3temUF8mNQs

Do not travel on July 6

I had the longest trip from D.C. to N.Y.C. ever, and last night. I don't know what possessed M. and I to leave at around 5:30 p.m.on Sunday after July Fourth. It took us almost six stuck-between-the-cars-barely-moving hours, what usually takes four.
But, we didn't really have a choice. We were in D.C. for only two and a half days, and that went by really fast. Between mine and M.'s family, we didn't have time for anything else. So we couldn't leave sooner. We didn't want to arrive sooner either, so we wouldn't be stuck in the July Third traffic. No one thought of July Sixth.
And yes, we couldn't leave much later either, because then we would be tired, and M. had to be at work early Monday. So, yes, we were stuck, literally and figuratively.
The point of this blog? Do not drive during holidays, unless you live in Omaha,Nebraska, as M. elegantly put it last night.

Soho weekend

My mother is visiting. And I am conveniently free this week, free from teaching and being a teacher. My student ran away to Portugal. And the Fourth is halting Shakespeare until next Friday. So I have plenty of time to show her around N.Y.C.
I actually took her to a wacky audition in SoHo on Saturday. We waited for about 40 minutes in line in front of a small gallery where the audition, one-on-one, was held. When I finally went in, she stayed outside and watched. Cute.
It was funny and strange because this young director asked me to change characters every 10 second while doing my monologue. It was challenging but in a good way. I came up with several different, somewhat, characters, and it was kind of fun, I guess. Then he asked me to dance, so I did a little cha-cha while talking about why I dance alone. And then, I was a homeless man...
Did I mention that this was all on camera?
Anyway, it was fun, and afterwords we met M. in Aroma, a cafe in SoHo, with comci-comca cappuccinos and lattes. Then we went to Bloomis where my Mom got a mini makeover, for free. A Sisley woman offered her moisturising and make-up. Then we had free Nespressos in the cafe section of the Bloomingdales. No, not everything is free in N.Y.C. Au contraire. We were lucky. Then we went to Little Italy, which was incredibly charming, with closed off main street and thousands of people dining and shopping. My Mother said it reminded her of Greek coast in the summer. I could see the Mediterranean influence.
Our Italian lunch in a random picked restaurant was just o.k. It was also the first time to have your tip decided by your waiter. Ridiculous, but there really wasn't much we could do about it, and it wasn't worth it. I can't remember the name of this restaurant, but it was on the left corner of the walking street and the open one. Exactly a block away from Soho, from my beloved Cafe Roma. So, don't go there.