Two-Pronged

Returning a book to a co-worker with a small token of my appreciation/taking the opportunity to showcase my work:

Also: The book is utterly adorable, entirely accurate, and mirrored my own experience with roller derby—as an adult—a little too closely to merely call it "relatable." Highly recommended!

b.go lark (my work)
Roller Girl by Victoria Jamieson

Showcase

I make these. You should buy some. Do it here.

Launch Party!

Hey, all—I'm trying this new thing and I'd be super-appreciative if you'd check it out and spread the word...

Everyone likes surprises, and micro-gifts are cute and cheap! So stop by sometime and give it a try—it's fun and for a good cause (namely, my rainy-day fund). Thank you bunches!

FYI: I'm open to extras and package pricing being a little more lenient than what the website allows. If you're interested, feel free to send me a custom request—let me know what you'd like, and we'll work it out. #Cooperation!

My Fiverr Gig

NY ♥ FAGS!

I was interviewd by a cute Asian boy (I'M NOT RACIST! SOME OF MY BEST FRIENDS ARE ASIAN!) outside Brooklyn City Hall this morning at the WBC protest. This is what was said:

Him: "That's a very interesting sign [GOD HATES THE G TRAIN]. What's the message you're trying to convery here?"
Me: "Just how ridiculous these guys are. If they can presume to know what God hates, why can't I? If I hate the the G train, then God must hate the G train."
Him: "Do you hate the G train?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Why do you hate it?"
Me: "It's never on time."
Him: "So are you religious?"
Me: "No."
Him: "Were you ever religious?"
Me: "Yes, I was raised Catholic."
Him: "Are you gay?"
Me: "Nope. I'm straight."
Him: "You know, a lot of straight people don't care enough to be doing something like this. What made you decide to come out here?"
Me: "Well, I have a lot of gay friends, but even if I didn't, I just think it's an important issue. It's like not letting black people sit in the front of the bus. If they want to get married, let them get married. What's the problem? It's not like any gay guys are trying to marry THEM. Oh, and I love art projects."

I ♥ NY. :)

I Stand With Planned Parenthood

I was interviewed by Dr. Dan from In Focus on WVOX at the rally today. This is why I told him I was there:

Without affordable health care, Planned Parenthood is a crucial resource for many women — and men.

In New York state, taxpayer money only funds abortions on a voluntary basis, and only in cases of rape, incest, or a threat to the mother's life (see the Hyde Amendment).

And the GOP is supposed to be focusing on creating jobs, not restricting women's reproductive rights.



GOP = Get Out (Of My) Pants!

Happy New Year, Bitches!

I'm so pissed I didn't come up with this myself:

The Party's Over...

My 2011 New Years Resolutions:

1. Spend more time at the toy store.
2. Marry Neil Lambert (subject to availability).
3. World Wide Web domination.

Stay safe, y'all!
See ya next year!!

Sibling Rivalry

I'm in my year-end rush to fulfill my self-proclaimed goal of 260 posts by the end of this year, so you're going to be hearing(reading?) a lot from me in the next few days. At least, those of you who are left — my most loyal of subjects, you hardy survivors of the Great(ly Overexaggerated) Drought Of 2010.

MAY MY KINGDOM FLOURISH AGAIN!

By the way, where the hell has Dalia been...?

So, I find it somewhat coincidental, in regard to my newly-restored resolve, that my Twitter feed this morning contained this proclamation, from my most favoritest Interwebz crush:

Oh, no he didn't...

If there is one thing you should know about me by now, it is that I can't resist a challenge, real or imagined. So whether Mr. Lambert is aware of it or not, we are now competing to the death for the Twitterverse title of Witheringly Sarcastic Web-Ranter Extraordinaire.

Neurotic Nation is en garde, sir.

May the battle begin. >:)

How You Know You Live In Park Slope, 4-Play: Shameless Self Promotion

IT'S OFFICIAL!!! I've been Fucked In Park Slope! :D

You Can't Handle The Truth!!

Attention Whore = Me

Sock it to me, bitches!

Lighten Up, It's Just Fashion! Again!

Last Friday, as part of Mercedes-Benz Fashion Week here in NYC, the cast of Project Runway Season 8 was appearing at the Piperlime pop-up store in Soho for Fashion's Night Out. And by incredible, heavenly, divine chance, I was there.

Some highlights:

The cast. I was standing directly behind this photographer as this picture was being taken. I yelled "Everyone say 'Make it work!'"

Conversing with A.J. Thouvenot via Twitter, prior to the event:
A.J. says...
I reply...
He writes back...
My response.
After discussing how I was sad that he didn't get to show at Fashion Week, and his reassurance that I will definitely be seeing more from him soon, we basically rehashed this conversation and I re-extended the invitation to him and April Johnston to come by and grab a beer or crash on my couch anytime. :)

Told Michael Costello that I heard he was telling everyone Ivy was the bitch of the show.

Told Michael Drummond I thought he should have won the Philip Treacy hat challenge.

Told Andy and Mondo that they far and away had the best hair of anyone in the room.

Told Casanova he wasn't getting fat. He starts laughing and says "No! You don't see me!" then almost knocks me over. I think he may have been indulging in a little more champagne than the rest of us...

Told Sarah that I thought the manner in which she was eliminated was unfair, and that I would have loved to see her show at Fashion Week. She told me, "Oh, if I had shown at Fashion Week, it woud have eaten your face."

Totally ignored Gretchen. :D

And to give you an idea of the atmosphere: Project Runway Gone Wild!

Immediately text messaged everyone I knew afterwards and burped up champagne the whole way home. 'Cause I am nothing if not a classy broad...

Talent Show-Off

So, a few years ago I was working as a bank teller (you know, because I have an English degree...) along with another girl my age named Danielle. Danielle was tiny and looked like an anime character and had this great raspy, little-kid voice and crazy, juvenile sense of humor. Upon my hiring, we immediately became best friends.

"Friends" may actually be too mild a word to describe our relationship. More like "co-conspirators." At one point, we weren't even allowed to work at windows next to each other. They actually separated us, like misbehaving kindergarteners. It was awesome.

Danielle and I became friends outside of work as well. Though I am normally terrified of going out with new people, especially by myself, I bravely accepted her invitation to hang out with her and her friends one weekend at Da Funky Phish, a well-known hole-in-the-wall place right near where I lived. In fact, the only reason I agreed to this proposal may have been because I had been to this place before, so I wouldn't be on totally unfamiliar ground. "There's this band playing that I've seen there before and the lead singer is HOT!"

A girl after my own heart.

Though I spent most of the evening perched on a bar stool in the corner as everyone else played pool, it wasn't a total loss: the lead singer was hot. Also, I was introduced to Danielle's boyfriend, Andy. Andy was in a band, too. And oh my...

Stop it stop it stop it — he is TAKEN. And she is your FRIEND. And you don't have many of them to pick and choose from. You will stop this RIGHT NOW!

Oh, but he was pretty...

So hanging out with Danielle became more comfortable for me, as long as she brought along her eye c-Andy. HAHAHA!!! GET IT?!?

...sorry.

Eventually, we started inviting the other girls from the bank to come out with us, and soon it became a regular thing: every Friday night after we closed, we'd hit up the little Irish pub down the block for Karaoke Night. (This did not always bode well for those working the Saturday morning shift the next day.)

Now, you may remember from way back that I am a slave to karaoke. I can't get enough of myself. It's embarassing, really, what an attention-whore I am. But whatever, that's not gonna stop me.

So on one of these girls' nights out, we let some of the boys tag along. Of course, Danielle brought Andy, who also brought some of his friends, all of whom immediately headed for the pool table in the back room. We girls, meanwhile, zeroed straight in on the song books.

I was usually the only one in the place who sang before she got drunk, so while the bank girls were at the bar, I sauntered up to the microphone for my rendition of the Fugees' rendition of "Killing Me Softly."

As I got going onstage, Danielle made her way to the pool table with Andy's drink. Now, according to Danielle's version of events, relayed to me later in the evening, he then says to her, "They should really turn down that background music. You can't hear Becky singing."

Danielle replies, "That is Becky singing."

Andy looks up from the pool table, drops his cue, rushes up to the stage to verify this claim, turns to his girlfriend and says:

"Damn. I want to fuck her now."

Ladies and gentlemen, to this day, I still consider that statement one of the highest compliments I have ever been paid.

Thank you, Cleveland!

Let The Sun Shine In

Yesterday, I saw the Broadway show Hair. And today, you get this special treat:

I danced on Broadway with the Hair eParty!

I'm the one at 1:28, with the glasses and the silver bracelets, fixing her hair (appropriate, no?). I'm also the one at the end, right in the middle, jumping up and down and waving. And I'm still a little hoarse from singing. :D

P.S.: This is the 4th Broadway show I've been in. See my theater resume for details. :)

Artistic Vision

I feel like I've really captured the essence of fanatical desperation in this piece. And also my hair.

Behold:

[Click to embiggen]

Original image: Masterpiece

UPDATE: A friend on Twitter asked why I was wearing a dress, but he was naked. My explanation is that another psycho chick must have torn his clothes off.

Oh, and just to be clear: That's Neil Lambert. Striking resemblance, no...?

You Can Add The Prefix "Glam" To Anything And Make It Sound Fabulous/Retarded

Yesterday I came up with this analogy:

Glamberts : GlamNation :: Neilists : DamnNation

"Neilists," like "nihilists" — get it??

...ok, here:

(from merriam-webster.com)
Nihilism:
1a: a viewpoint that traditional values and beliefs are unfounded and that existence is senseless and useless
1b: a doctrine that denies any objective ground of truth and especially of moral truths
2: a doctrine or belief that conditions in the social organization are so bad as to make destruction desirable for its own sake independent of any constructive program or possibility

If you've ever happened to read his blog, NegativeNeil, you will understand immediately why both of these monikers are so appropriate.

"We believe in nothing, Lambert. Nothing!"

God Damn America.

Thank you, Cleveland!

Don't Hate Me Because I'm Beautiful

Aww...you like me! You really like me!

It is my pleasure to announce that I have been granted a Beautiful Blogger Award, and it's about damn time. No, I kid — I think it's awesome. Thank you, The Chicken's Consigliere (alias "TCHC" around these parts) for the honor. And congratulations to my faithful stalker, Dalia, on her honorable mention. :D

I am passing on the gift to:

Stolen Sentiments, a fellow musical muser and loyal follower of mine (thanks for hanging around!);

The Rebel Yell, the voice of my grrrls, The Long Island Roller Rebels;

The Sassy Curmudgeon, for being WICKED AWESOME and inspiring me to do this crazy thang;

Tom & Lorenzo, the most fabulous bitches on the Interwebz;

and precious li'l Kaits: it can't all be wedding cake. *mwa!*

And now the REALLY fun part:

"Name 7 tidbits people don’t know about you from reading your blog."

HAHAHA! Things people don't know about me? Like I'm not an attention-craving narcissist with no filter who's already revealed everything, whether you want to know it or not? Gee, what ELSE can I say about myself?? Ok, here goes...

1. My very first celebrity crush was on Johnny Depp.
And my affection still holds true to this day. I am a firm believer in doing things right the first time around — none of this New Kids On The Block crap for me.

2. I am terrified of inflatable holiday lawn ornaments.
You know, like those giant blow-up snowmen and Santas that you always see in front of car dealerships around Christmas time? When you pass by one at night, and they're just looming there and grinning in the dark with no one else around? Fucking creepy.

3. I was a Girl Scout until my senior year of high school.
There will be a separate post devoted entirely to this topic in the near future. Trust me, it's a gold mine.

4. My shoe size is 8 ½.
Um...yeah.

5. I don't know how to swim.
I had a hole in my eardrum when I was little and couldn't go underwater without earplugs, so I never learned. Oh yeah — and I have a hole in my eardrum and am partially deaf.

6. I lost my virginity at 22.
What can I say? I was a late bloomer.

7. I'm Tyler Durden.
No, I'm just kidding. I'm really Keyser Soze.

Thank you, all!

Milestone

Profile Views (approximate): 1,000

Hell yeah, bitches! Woot! :D

Lame Claims To Fame: Volume V

Flashback: January 2008...

So, for those of you who don't travel in these sorts of circles, the Tony award-winning Broadway musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee will be closing on January 20th after a two-and-a-half year run. Upon hearing this news about three weeks ago — especially as an actress, a singer, and the bearer of an English degree, who lives for all things quirky — I was kicking myself for having missed the chance to see it.

Until I realized that I have a sister who does travel in these sorts of circles.

And who happened to be paying attention during this particular lament of mine, and who remembered it come Christmas present-buying time.

Which is how I came to be onstage with the cast, under the spotlights of the Circle in the Square Theater, beaming from ear to ear during yesterday evening's performance.

But let me back up a bit...

Technically, this is not the first time I've been in this sort of situation. For my 20th birthday, my mom took me to see Grease (with Rosie O'Donnell — remember that??), and when I made a request to the guy playing Vince Fontaine, who was spinning rock 'n' roll records before the show, I mentioned that it was my birthday, and he pulled me up onstage to dance (of course, I can't prove this because when Mom tried to take a picture of it, security confiscated her camera). And when I had front-row seats for the Broadway revival of The Rocky Horror Show about 8 years ago, I managed to jump onstage to dance with one of the Phantoms during the Time Warp — but then again, we are talking about Rocky Horror.* As for the Bee, I've only heard rumors of audience participation, so I'm not getting my hopes up.

*Case in point: When I saw it again the next year (with Sebastian Bach — remember that??) and somehow ended up being the only one in the audience who yelled out (per "the script") "What's your favorite toothpaste?" right before the word "gleam" in "I Can Make You A Man," and then "Mine's Crest — I like the PUMP!" right after it, Terrance Mann as Dr. Frank broke character to look right at me and shout back "Get your own damn show!"

The lobby of the theater is decorated like the hallways of a real middle school. Handwritten signs and posters advertising bake sales and club meetings, "Read to Achieve!" and all those other cheesy inspirational slogans plastered everywhere, actual rows of lockers, and — my personal favorite — a "Putnam County Lady Pirhanas — 1998 Field Hockey Champions" banner hanging from the ceiling. Against one wall is a "Volunteer Speller Registration" table, so, curious, I get in line. The cute gay boy with the clipboard asks me my name, where I'm from, if I'm a good speller, if I ever do word puzzles, if I think I'd be nervous on a stage in front of about 500 people. I feel like answering every question with, "Are you kidding me?? Do you even know who you're talking to here??" He thanks me for volunteering and I am then told that only four people will be picked to be a part of the show. Four people out of about 500. Everyone waiting in the lobby has been on this line. There are still people waiting behind me. Registration eventually closes and they have to turn people away. When they come back out to announce the winners, I try to ready myself for the inevitable disappointment.

My name is the first one they call. >:)

My fellow spellers are another girl, about my age, maybe younger, with dark curly hair, who is actually taller than me (!); a precocious and adorably geek-chic, 10- or 11-year-old boy named Jack; and an older, somewhat Middle Eastern-looking man with a name I'm not even going to attempt to spell. Hopefully, it won't be the word I'm given during the competition. We are escorted to a small backstage office full of technical equipment for our "orientation." We are told where to come onstage, what to do once we're up there, how to adjust the microphone. We are told not to bring any electronic devices with us, to just react naturally and enjoy the show, and that the actors will help us. It is repeated several times, with great emphasis, that before we spell the word we're given, no matter how hard or easy a word it may be, we MUST ask two questions: "Can I have the definition, please?" and "Can you please use it in a sentence?" — and in that EXACT order. Then we are instructed very explicitly to NOT try to be funny: "Don't tell jokes or stay up there longer than you need to when you're done spelling. As funny as it may seem in your head, trust me, it's not going to be that funny. There are trained professionals up there for that; they don't need your help."

On my way back to my seat, I decide to try and play it like I wasn't picked after all, like I was just in the bathroom the whole time or something, so it will be a total surprise to my mom when they call me up, but she knows right away: "Well, first of all, you didn't come back in with the rest of them, and second, you're grinning like an idiot."

I am so excited I barely even hear the opening number; I'm focused solely on waiting for my cue. The "moderator" finally announces my name and the whole theater starts rustling and whispering and turning around to look as I jump out of my seat, plow past the rest of my row and skip down the aisle...then practically trip onto the stage. Yep, I definitely belong here — I am a true dork.

My number, as indicated by the enormous square of bright yellow cardboard hung around my neck, is 28 — coincidentally, the same number Al Sharpton was given when he was a guest speller during the Tony Awards performance. "Chip," the Cub Scout and "reigning champion," shows me where to sit on the bleachers. There's a musical number, I'm involved in a sight gag which I pull off like a pro, two actors are called up to spell, and then it's my turn.

I make my way a little nervously to the microphone at the front of the stage as the moderator perkily announces, "Miss Godan was voted 'Miss Congeniality' by her class for inviting the entire football team to her slumber party!" I play along with a demure little smile, and the audience cracks up. Man, I am loving this!

And then my word is "pakapu."

I am crestfallen. I have never heard this word before in my life. At least the audience seems to be enjoying/sharing in my reaction of utter confusion. I ask for the definition, as instructed (apparently it's some sort of Chinese lottery). I ask for a sentence, but the audience starts laughing so loudly I don't even hear it. Not like it would have even helped — the girl before me whose word was "jihad" got something like, "Mohammed always prepared the camel meat fresh each day at Ahmed's Jihad Deli."

[On a similar note: A few rounds later, another volunteer speller gets the word "cow," and sheepishly asks — as he's been told he absolutely MUST do — for the definition and for use in a sentence. The responses to these questions are, respectively: "It's a cow!" and "Spell the word 'cow'!"]

I tentatively repeat the word ("pock-a-poo...?"), then string together some reasonable-sounding letters and glance back at the judges hopefully.

*ding*

"I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

Devastation — I am the first contestant to be eliminated.

My mom tells me later that my face at that moment was perfect, that I really looked like a sad little girl. The audience gets a big laugh out of the "comfort counselor" — a large, thugged-out black man who is supposedly on parole and performing his "community service" — as he gives me a hug and a juice box before sending me back to my seat. At least I'm the first person to get "comforted," I think; the joke hasn't gotten old yet. Strangely, I do take some comfort in this. And maybe now I'll actually be able to hear the show — when you're onstage, everyone is singing with their backs to you, and I'm part-deaf as it is. And I was getting thirsty...

Afterwards, for the whole walk back to the train station, I can't stop giggling and asking did I sound ok and are you sure it was funny? I mean, people were laughing, right? I am so ridiculously proud of myself I'm practically floating down the streets of Manhattan.

I owe Courtney something REALLY good for Christmas next year. :)

Late-Breaking Lame Claim To Fame: Volume IV

This just happened:

BeccaGo: @negativeneil Am I old enough for it to be creepy if I hit on you?
negativeneil: @BeccaGo yes you are

Boys and girls, that is Adam Lambert's brother personally shooting me down via Twitter.

Thank you, and good night!
[Special thanks to Dalia for coming to my defense during my absence.]

Lame Claims To Fame: Volume III

My sister works for a theater organization, and as such, she has taken calls from certain recognizable talents. Consummate professional that she is, she then usually excitedly relays the details of the interaction to this pop-culture-obsessed sibling of hers via text message. Some recent celeb connections of which I have been informed include Adam Lambert's mom and one of the beauty queens from The Amazing Race. Somewhat above them in the hierarchy are my two favorite encounters of her career thus far: Wallace Shawn and Ernie Hudson, perhaps better known as Vizzini from The Princess Bride and Winston from Ghostbusters. I was disappointed to learn, however, that she hadn't somehow been able to work "Inconceivable!" or "The black one was the best Ghostbuster!" into her respective conversations with them. But she did manage to mention how awesome The Crow was to Mr. Hudson, so respect must be paid.

On a similar note, I once worked as a receptionist for a cheesy German dance-remix record label/music distribution company whose American headquarters were inexplicably located in West Babylon, ideally situated just down the block from the dump, where I was lucky enough to once answer a phone call from Eric Nies of Real World 1 and MTV's The Grind fame.

Try not to be jealous.