What Men Say

Before I actually go into the topic at hand I need to say that I'm not good at blogging. I come up with ideas all day and then never write them down. Being in the biggest city in the country, crazy and oftentimes hilarious shit happens to me. I am going to do my best to start writing more often. You (the three of you who read this blog, myself included) deserve to hear about it and even if you don't deserve it, if you make the attempt to check my blog and I have failed to write in the last two weeks, you'll stop coming. I need you. I have even found myself checking my blog hoping that miraculously I might have written while sleepwalking and I might find some witty new insight to my life. Needless to say, that hasn't happened and the only way this will get done, is by doing it.
So, without further ado...
What Men Say (or really just one man while I was walking to the train in Queens.)
So, I was meeting two good friends of mine Lisa and Shoshanna for dinner in the city last night. I was really feeling crappy- I have an ear infection and I had just been on a plane that morning (note to self- I would rather walk back to NYC from Ohio than to have to go through landing with an ear infection). But, to rise to the occasion, I climbed out of bed at 4pm and did my hair and makeup, got dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and started my journey into Manhattan. For those of you who don't know, I live in Jackson Heights, Queens and I have about a 15 minute walk to the train. So about two blocks from the train I'm walking past the Barber Shop and this man starts. "Oh. My. God. You're a gorgeous woman." (I think to myself, that's nice to hear especially when I feel like dog poop- Don't look him in the eye, don't respond, that only encourages them). He continues, "Take that home with you." (I think, well he obviously didn't need any encouragement). Continuing, "When you look in the mirror remember that." (I think, when did I sign up for a self esteem seminar? Does he want me to stop and give him my phone number? Does that ever work for him? Thank God I didn't even glance his way). And he ends it with, "Wow, you are a beautiful woman." Now, I have to say, he was talking at me the entire block from one spot and I heard the last part as I waited at the crosswalk. So I start thinking about all the times men have whistled, catcalled, or otherwise made fools of themselves in public when I or some other woman crossed their path. And I came to this conclusion, there has to be women out there who respond and they are the reason that these men think that this type of behavior could get them a phone number, a date, or a hook-up of some sort. Or maybe they're all a little crazy...

So Here Goes Nothing

So, I have to admit that I opened this blog about a month ago and haven't written because I figured that I would be committing myself to something I wasn't fully committed to. Crazy, right? Well, that's the world you're about to enter. The world of my crazy mind and my crazy life. I want to do a cabaret. I want to have something to say, and damn it, I want to be funny. Most of all, I want to sing for people in New York where I'm not confined to sixteen or thirty two bars within a two minute time frame. Just a note on the crazy: I have a three year old nephew Jonathan who has adjectives for each of his relatives. His daddy: handsome, mommy: beautiful, his brother, Christopher: cute, his gay Uncle John: fabulous (yeah, steroetypes are okay in my family and we start them early), and his actress Aunt Jodi (that would be me): Crazy. Kind of funny when coming out of a small child but when you really break it down, that's how people see me. And let's face it, my life is pretty crazy. I spend the majority of my time standing in line to audition for people who are going to see anywhere from 240 to three hundred other people in the day. Now, the audition is like a job interview, but I have two minutes to walk in there and open my heart, bear my soul and sing, and be different than the other 240 people waiting to do the same thing. If that's not crazy, how about the fact that I have spent at least an hour getting ready, doing my hair, my makeup, and getting dressed in a faboulous dress, heels and tights. I look ready to go out on the town, but it's only 1030 in the morning and I'm just gonna walk from the dressing room, hang out in the waiting area, socailize with my fellow actors, get in line and then walk in to the room in which I'll spend the fateful two minutes that the previous hours have made possible. Yep, Crazy... and that's just the beginning.