The Waffle Truck...

Dear Friends,

It's official. Our amazing friend Ellen has added another amazing chapter to her life story. As some of you may know, she has recently taken up employment with the "Waffle and Dinges" truck. Upon my first visit to Ellen's new workplace, I took a series of pictures which Ellen won't allow me to post on facebook. However, she DID give me permission, after much groveling, to share my candid photos with you via a relatively more private cyber-arena. She was probably thinking I'd email them, ensuring complete privacy. But don't worry, Ellen. Nobody reads our blog anyway. It's as private as private can be.

This first shot was taken before Ellen even knew I was there. If you squint, you can see her hard at work.

Ellen notices I have arrived...with a camera.

Ellen realizes it's Friday, and she needs to change that board.

Ellen hard at work.

So here's the story for this picture. It may look like Elle is just doing her job, chatting with customers, being the BOMB. But what you can't see is that there is a crazy man harassing her (sexually and otherwise). He later made her craft a waffle "boat" and had her cut his bacon waffle into bite size pieces with plastic utensils. Oh, and then he brought it back because she hadn't successfully filled each cranny with syrup.

Perhaps the best part about Elle's new job? She has to come up with a creative question to write on the board each day.

Today's question: If you could have 1 superpower WHAT would it be?

Answer: Ellen is a Goddess.

A parting shot. And yes, that badass bandanna/hat is mandatory.

Ellen--I was obsessed with you before, but now? Now you're my daily inspiration. Love you!!!!!

xoxo

h

My Scary Day at the Festival...

Hello, All!

I am writing today to share an experience that I simply can't stop thinking about. I am confused, scared, concerned, and naked.

As at least half of you know, I love September. It's just a great month. Cool fall temperatures finally relieve our bodies of the awful stench of summer, a lot of babies get born, and people all over are feeling sexy (those facts are all factual). What really ices my proverbial (shout-out, Hellkat) autumnal four-layer red-velvet buttercream cake is that September also means it's time for my favorite New York City event of the year. The Festival of San Gennaro in Little Italy!!

*The beloved Feast of San Gennaro is an annual celebration of the Patron Saint of Naples. The first Feast in New York City took place on September 19, 1926 when newly arrived immigrants from Naples settled along Mulberry Street in the Little Italy section of New York City and decided to continue the tradition they had followed in Italy to celebrate the day in 305 A.D. when Saint Gennaro was martyred for the faith.

Doc, Hellkat, and I went straight to the feast on the Sunday before last. We had a blast, won a goldfish who is now dead (sorry D&HK...hate to break it to you this way), and listened to a racist clown offend at least nine people of different nationality in less than one minute (but where, I ask, does a Clown matriculate from?). I had such a wonderful time, I told everyone I knew. Except some of you. When my friend Ellie (aka Sauce Girl) heard me rave about San Gennaro, she insisted I escort her through the crowded streets the very next Sunday.

I didn't object--and the second trip was going just as swimmingly as the first. I even did some things I didn't get to do with D&HK. I got to ride the ferris wheel AND sit in the big chair. And there was something else Ellie and I did. Something that has changed my life.

As we neared one end of Mulberry Street, we noticed a couple of tents about ten yards off the beaten path. Upon closer inspection, we discovered that the tents were advertising "The Woman with a Snake's Body", "The Man with Two Heads", and "The Elephant Lady". Seeing as I was really nostalgic for the days of yore when circus freaks were displayed in cages and not on my TV, AND given the fact that I am reading a book about circus freaks, I couldn't resist. My first mistake? Choosing Ellie as my companion.

Ellie is scared of clowns, small people, and most deformities (though oddly she is fascinated by others...I never know what to expect).

First, we forked over a dollar to see the Snake Woman. We walked up the ramp and peered into a large cage that contained a table. On the table was a cloth replica of a python coiled up with a hole cut in the middle for a woman's head to go. This was the same woman I saw walk into the tent three minutes before. I thought she was the Snake-Woman's feeder. Boy, was I wrong.

My second mistake was paying another dollar to see another scammy freakshow. But the man (dressed in authentic, turn of the century Italian garb) insisted she was the real thing.

He didn't lie.

Ellie and I walk into the tent containing the Elephant Woman, and there is really a woman standing there with a terrible condition that turned her epidermis into what looks like an elephant's cracking, dry, discolored skin. More shocking than her appearance was the fact that we were alone in the tent with her and there was no kind of separation mechanism. It was just me, standing with a woman who had a deformity. I say it was only me because Ellie literally ran out of the tent screaming. I am not kidding or exaggerating.

Since I was standing alone with the woman and already felt bad about Ellie's rude reaction, I decided to stay an talk to her. But that didn't last long because after I asked her where she was from (I didn't think of the implications of this question until after the words were out my mouth) and she replied "Brooklyn" in a rather snarly tone, I couldn't think of what else to say. I left.

Needless to say, I was very upset about the experience. What to feel! What to think! We aren't supposed to stare at people with deformities, right? Why did I pay somebody a dollar to do

so?! And when it came down to it, I didn't want to. Which I am thinking is a really good thing. It was just very unsettling. And why would it have made it better if a partition had been in place?

Thoughts? Comments? I am at a loss. And I italicized many words in this post.

SOS

y

I've got problems

I've got problems. I need them to go away. I have a charge of $24.99 from Verizon on my credit card. It shouldn't be there. Neither should last month's charge of $24.99. My contract with Verizon High Speed Internet was supposed to end in July, according to my records, and I did not have to call in order to terminate, according to the representative I talked to before this whole fiasco began. The contract was supposed to run out and NOT automatically renew, or so I was told. What a scam. So I make the call.

At first, they have no record of my account number or telephone number. Strange, right? They eventually find it, however, and this is where it gets bad. I explain the situation, sure to note how stunned I am that what is happening now is exactly what I hoped to prevent by calling way back when, before my contract was even up, but the representative says that the only call she sees is one I placed to update my credit card information, which is funny because I updated that using their automated service and then chose to speak with a representative regarding my contract, and during that conversation, I annoyed the representative by repeatedly confirming that I would definitely not have to call again in order to end this contract... have I lost you? I promise I have a point... Anyway, panic sets in. What is my problem! I have lost my breath, now breathing shallow; My voice is quivering, and I sound like a nervous child too young to even be calling about a credit card charge; As usual, my body is also trembling. No joke, I have to wrap myself in my blankets and breathe heavily into a pillow while I wait to be transferred to the supervisor who might be able to refund these charges, because ACTUALLY I was supposed to call to prevent the contract from automatically renewing and even then I had to do it 30 days in advance, so I'm going to be charged another $24.99 in October. I'm convulsing. Do you guys get this anxious about telephone confrontations with Verizon representatives? What is wrong with me? Why does my voice do that? And what the frick is wrong with my body?

In the end, they cancelled my contract and refunded me the $49.98, but I fear it's only because they mistook me for a frightened child and pitied the small voice on the other end of the line. Whatever. It gets worse...

Yesterday, I'm speeding down the Schuylkill Expressway, I take the exit to Mommom's house (the exit is actually labeled "Mommom's House") and my tire starts vibrating and making some noise, it's worsening, even worse now, okay, there's a problem - I pull over on the stupid Expressway, get out and find that I have a flat tire that is literally falling off the car. Fuck. I pull up my hood to conceal my face from the cars speeding by. WTF? I was making record time! Do you know what traffic is like on the Expressway these days? Do you even care? Have I lost you again? Stay with me... I'll skip the details of my long wait for Uncle Mike to come help me - blah, blah, we replace the tire, which is completely worn down to the steel threading, pop on the tiny wheel-barrow tire these hybrids have for spares, and great, all done. But guess what. IT GETS WORSE...

I get in and BAM, battery is dead. I was not meant to leave this highway (nor was I supposed to leave the headlights on for so long...) The Channel 6 chopper flying overhead is surely reporting on the disabled vehicle that has been sitting sideways on the ramp for the past hour - soon to reach two - and the hooded figure that has been scurrying about it. Now Uncle Mike is off to get his truck and cables. In the meantime, I'm cleaning up the funion chips that had long ago fallen from Stephen's mouth and settled into the creases in the seats, and I'm wondering why there are seven bottles of dirty water on the floor in the back... but then! Hark! Poof! Lo and behold! Da-d-d-d-da-da-da-dah! IT GETS BETTER...

A freak tornado funnels out of the sky, a cow floats by, and a strike of lightning hits my engine and starts my car! Just kidding. You still with me? Only a bit more to go, I promise... In reality, I spy a portly man shuffling toward the car, which now has it's hood up to validate it's awkward position here on the ramp. He's struggling to fit a bright orange vest over his sweatshirt, which reads, "I am not A Morning Person." (You know the type - that ridiculous catalog shopper, that is. What is it? Bob's blah blah blah? No doubt he has a "Beach Bum" wife beater in his hamper at home.) Surely it's the afternoon by now, and this man, this sleepy samaritan, offers to jump me. YES!

It turned out to be quick and easy - he only punched me once and took my wallet and then went on his way. Just kidding... but that wouldn't be the first time I've been jumped by a giant in broad daylight.

In reality, he jumped me and didn't charge me, but again, I fear it's only because he took pity on the strangely tall, child-faced boy he happened to find stuck on the side of the road while he was looking for some sucker to charge for a tow to the Pep Boys just 10 minutes away and down the street from Mommom's house.

The moral of this story? A penny saved is a penny earned.

Just kidding - It always gets worse before it gets better.

THE END!

Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow...

Dear friends and readers (do we have one single reader who isn't one of us?),

I am sad to announce here on the blog that PHD is no longer. After two full days of packing, ditching, cleaning, and selling, the gathering spot of our youth is empty. I thought about posting some favorite memories from PHD, but instead I would like to share with those of you who weren't there some of the final PHD memories.

Ellen and I literally cleaned PHD for 24 hours (totally gunning for those pangs of sympathy and guilt you must all be feeling after reading that). Being the strategic gals we are, we scheduled a garage sale to raise funds for cleaning supplies and also eliminate the inevitable amounts of clutter accumulated by four girls in two years. The sale was set for the first few hours of our cleaning project.

Our first customer was unforgettable.

1) A small, old, asian man came to PHD and it will never be the same. After scoping out all of the clearly marked "FOR SALE" items laid out in the living room in a beautiful flow-conducive pattern, our friend wasn't satiated. He wasn't finding the "custom jewelry" and "electronics" he came for. Then, as we walked him toward the front door, he made a bee-line for the kitchen. He opened the cabinets and seemed captivated by the ten year old rices and pastas Ellen has carted around most of her adult life. He swiftly began stockpiling desirable items--in the middle of the living room where the sale was actually taking place. It looked like he was on "Shop Til You Drop". As Ellen and I watched in masked horror/hysterics, he added a few items from our bookshelf that weren't for sale (Broadway's best Love Songs, Amy's old Opera sheet music, A bottle of vermouth) and asked us "how much for all this?". Seeing as this was our first potential sale and he has amassed about 18 items that weren't even on sale, I tried him out with $20. Nope. After much haggling, I stepped out of the situation and Ellen secured $7.

2) Apparently the guys moving into out apartment are HOT. So says Katie, who informs me on garage sale day that she met them and they want to buy the dining room chairs. Well OF COURSE!!! Sure!! Email them and see how much they can pay!! After no word for 24 hours, I decide to call, as the chairs aren't selling at the big sale. On Sunday afternoon at around 2 O'Clock PM, I had a speakerphone conversation with four completely inebriated boys who not only called me "Hardly" for ten minutes, but who also spent the bulk of our conversation time talking to each other and forgetting I was there. Needless to say, I couldn't procure any money, and was forced to sell the chairs to THIS GUY...

3) Coincidentally?, another asian. He calls me and expresses interest. I give him chair measurements (all dining room chairs are uniformly 18" high). I tell him the price that is on my ad that he read. He low-balls me because "there are a lot of chairs on sale right now". His words. He asks if there are any stains on the chairs. I say no. He asks again, because apparently he went to pick up a couch yesterday that he was told had to stains, only to find an enormously stained couch. I accept his ridiculous price because time is running out. He is two hours late. He calls and says he is sorry he is late, he had to buy some wine. One hour later he arrives with asian girlfriend in tow. He sits in chair. He asks for me to hold his tape measure (indicating table height) in front of him sitting in chair. Girlfriend gives this a try. I am still holding tape measure. This simulation isn't sufficient. He asks me to find something in the apartment "this" high. I find something 6 inches short. He brings over chair. He asks me to find "some books or something" to put on top that corrects the incongruity. Katie and Steve (both present, thank GOD) find a box of cereal and a text book to stack. He likes it. Girlfriend gives it a try. He asks to use my internet. SOLD.

4) On garage Sale Day, Ellen and I realized we hadn't eaten. So we ordered a giant Bravo pizza, half plain half Pep (as Schwayman says) and we sat down in the middle of several unsold items. We heard a knock at the door, shouted "Come in!", and didn't offer to move ourselves or the pizza as our latecomer perused the PHDelights scattered around us.

5) Ellen and I found a cache of beer in our fridge (I won't divulge what condition the fridge was in before I cleaned it...and don't you dare ask ellen about that stove). We had thrown away our bottle opener, so we opened beer with a hammer all night.

6) We made a combined 10 hour playlist.

7) We accidentally threw away several of Katie's personal items. She dug through the trash for some, and for the others we are just plain sorry. We owe Katie a pair of shorts and a new razor, among other things.

8) Ellen was convinced she could sell her crutches (I bet her dinner she couldn't), and though she won't receive any money, her new craigslist friend Steve is coming to pick them up and donate them to Africa tomorrow morning.

9) During the first hour of cleaning, Ellen and I heard noises coming from Mychal's old room, and discovered a puppy.

10) Somebody LOVED our purple TV stand (it is BEAUTIFUL, Amy) and PAID MONEY for it.

11) We received endless comments about how great our apartment is. And it was very difficult to explain why we would ever want to leave.

That's a small taste of all that occurred. I truly wish each and every one of you could have been there to say goodbye. Great. Now I'm crying.

H

Everything I need to know, I've learned from living in Springboro, OH.

First off- I suppose I should apologize for not having written sooner. My only excuse is that I've been distracted by everything the great town of Springboro has to offer (some of which you will hear about later in this post). I HAVE been reading, though, and have been thoroughly entertained. Posting just isn't my cup of tea. Like E L, I am intimidated. I haven't written for fear of being called lame in comparison to my fellow blog writers. I thought I was off the hook, because anytime Yeldah Knorc has badgered me about my lack of blog posts, I've been quick to point out that I'm not the only one who is MIA.  "Hell-Kat hasn't written yet either!", I would remind her. This worked remarkably well until yesterday, when Yeldah informed me that Hell-Kate posted a little over an hour ago. 

So here I am. 

I would like to share with you some of the insight and wisdom I've gained from my 10 weeks of  living here in Springboro. You won't find Springboro on a map (trust me, I tried). It's between Dayton and Cincinnati, just in case you were wondering. And the lessons I have learned here, I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Enjoy.

Helpful Piece of Insight # 1: People lie.

On La Comedia's website, you will find their clever, catchy motto: "La Comedia: a taste of Broadway." On the first day, the technical director of the theatre told us that "if it happens on broadway, it happens here at the La Comedia." This is bullshit. My bet is that on Broadway, Annie wouldn't slip on a piece of BUTTER and fall flat on her ass at the end of act 1. I bet the man who yelled "THANKS, OBAMA" at the end of "Hooverville," a song making fun of president Herbert Hoover, would have gotten kicked out. Or how about when an entire piece of set ran over my foot, causing me to rush to Urgent Care to get xrays and wake up the next morning with a bruise the size of a frisbee on my foot? Does that happen on Broadway? Lies, I tell you.

Helpful Piece of Insight # 2: I take New York City for granted.

Since I've been here, we have done SO MUCH fun stuff- laser tag, baseball games, trashy bars, theme parks, water parks, outdoor concerts, roller skating nights. I actually started pouting when we we started our last week here, because I'd have to "get back to reality" in NYC. Then I realized that I was being ridiculous. If I would just seek out fun things to do in New York like we did here (mainly because our only other option was to sit in our rooms all day), I would never feel like New York is overwhelming or a burden. So guys- let's find new, fun things to do when I get back. Restaurants, bars, activities, neighborhoods we don't usually visit- there is SO much to take advantage of (ALMOST as much as here in Springboro). 

Helpful Piece of Insight # 3: Dayton is NOT a big city.

Helpful Piece of Insight # 4: Honesty sucks. You should lie to everyone. Refer to # 1.

I decided to walk in the theatre wearing sweatpants and no makeup one day. Immediately upon entering, one of the stupid little girls I share a dressing room with says sarcastically, "Wow, Mychal- you look awesome." I brush it off and head upstairs when one of the locals in the show, Charlie, a 60 something year old man who left his wife in his 40's to be Blanchard, his "black partner", yelled, "Mychal, come here for a second!" When I walked over to him, Charlie looked me up and down and said "Hmm. I don't know if it's the buffet or what, but you've gained a few pounds." I'm sure I turned white, because he then recovered by adding, "No! It looks sexy on you! I love it!" When I finally make it to the dressing room, another little girl tells me I look tired, and asked if I got enough sleep. WTF?

Helpful Piece of Insight # 5: Southern comfort and coke might or might not be the best alcoholic beverage ever. 

Helpful Piece of Insight # 6: Children are stupid.

One night, as I walked down the aisle to make my entrance as star-to-be wearing a khaki trench coat and a funny hat, a child yelled, "Look, mom- there's Mary Poppins!" 

Helpful Piece of Insight # 7: When looking to invest in a piece of real estate, immediately cut out anything that is located directly next door to Mcdonalds.

Helpful Piece of Insight # 8: RAID Ant killer doesn't work. 

This morning, I woke up with an ant CRAWLING ACROSS MY PILLOW. This has gone TOO far.

Helpful Piece of Insight # 9: When I am old, I will participate in Bingo Nights, not live theatre.

There is an man in our show, Ernie, who is gross and old and has a huge birthmark across his right cheek. In our 2nd week of rehearsal, Ernie added me on Facebook (why are old people on Facebook?) and proceeded to whisper in my ear the next morning, "thanks for giving me something great to dream about last night." Gross. Ernie also forgets his lines on stage. Constantly. Instead of making something up or just standing in silence and letting someone else pick up the cue, Ernie mumbles something that no one can understand. 8 times a week at the top of the show, when Grace enters, Ernie is supposed to say "Good afternoon, miss Ferrell." Ernie forgets Grace's name about 30% of the time, and says, "Good afternoon, miss Fhfushsdfjhse." Ernie also tries to touch my ass every day in during "Hooverville."

Helpful Piece of Insight # 10: People in Springboro like to take advantage of the "Missed Connections" section of Craigslist. 

Our Rooster has gotten a shout out by a man wondering if his moves are as good in private as they are on stage. And then during tech week, I went to Mcdonalds every morning early to get breakfast (hold your judgement, please). Sure enough, at the end of the week, the girl who plays Grace found a posting on Craigslist for a girl who was ordering early Tuesday morning at the Mcdonalds in Springboro (there is only one). The subject? "Wish I could have ordered on of you to go."

Helpful Piece of Insight #11: I need every one of you back in my life. I love you all and miss you so much!

Enough said.

Twyla. I can call her that now.

Oh my goodness, fellow bloggers.

I have been trying to think of something to blog about for DAYS now. I have started about ten entries in the past week, but every time I end up simply wasting a half hour. Until TODAY.

As many of you may know, I now work for my brother's ex. Pshhhh, don't I know it! I believe all of you have met her. Her name is Michelle. And she is a goddess.

I began work only five days ago, and today, on my fourth day of work, Michelle asked me the following:

"Would you like to go see an invited dress rehearsal of Twyla's new show?". Just like that. No pomp. No circumstance.

(If you don't know who Twyla Tharp is, look her up. She is a famous choreographer who did "Movin' Out" among many other remarkable things)

So. I freaked out. And said yes. Michelle couldn't come to the dress rehearsal because she had patients during that time, so she sent me in her stead. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And may I just say it was the best three hours of my LIFE. I was five feet away from Ms. Tharp herself (who is crazy and amazing and inspiring and pictured above), and the whole thing took place in a rehearsal studio so I was about five feet away from the dancers (read: incredible athletes from another planet).

The show, like movin' out, is a "jukebox" dance piece but instead of Billy "cradle-robbing" Joel, this one is set to Frank Sinatra's music. And about 90% of the movin' out cast is in this one too. And now I don't have to pay $100 to see this when it comes to Broadway! Now I am getting boring.

Theme of this post: MY BROTHER MARRIED THE WRONG WOMAN.

Also, I see none of you have replied to my email. I sent it well over one hour ago. I see how this is going to be. Don't ask me why nothing is dedicated to you people.

H

Update from the Den

No top 10 list for you scallybags tonight.  I'm sitting here, pantsless in my den, eating celery and hummus.  And I thought of all of you.

Pants can just be SO restricting.  I know Yeldah knows what I'm talking about.  They are especially suffocating while choreographing at 11pm in the den, which, otherwise would be much too small a space except for the fact that it has been completely cleared out due to the infestation of fleas there, a problem almost as bad as the fruit-fly situation in the kitchen and bathrooms, but not nearly as bad as the fact that I am now choreographing pantsless to invisible music in my head about the Creation of Man and Earth.  But yes, fruit flies: flash me back to that first PH D summer of the flies.  Anyone remember??  How the hell did we get rid of those things anyway?  Right now I've tried the dumb red-wine-vinegar traps, which are effective in killing but ineffective in the destruction of spawning.  Then I tried pouring ammonia down the drains, which some online housewife swore to be the trick.  Next morning, the nuisances were back like a heart-attack.  Then, after a phone call with Tim at Athens Pest Control, I poured bleach down the drain.  I will see tomorrow whether he knows his shit or not.   The strangest thing is not the swarms of gnats that confront me as I pee but more that I AM THE ONLY ONE IN MY FAMILY WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT THIS CRISIS.  There are tiny little bundles of hell with wings flying all over MY AIR, landing on MY FOOD, buzzing in MY EARS, WATCHING ME IN MY PRIVATEST OF MOMENTS and no one else seems to CARE.  I really considered the idea that all this time alone without friends was getting to my head.  Hallucinations!  Doc?!  Meds?!  My latest theory is that  God is sending the plague into this home to clue me in on the lameness of a 24 year old living with her parents.  Well, God, I WOULD move out, except that my garage apartment is part of a home that was as of a week ago put on the market.  So here I am sleeping and dancing with fleas and fruitflies. 

Anyway, all of this is to say that in searching, pantslessly, for some choreography inspiration, I dove into my mother's extensive collection of footage from plays I was in back in the day.  And I came across some of hadley and I singing "In His Eyes" from Jekyll and Hyde at the Access Broadway competition.  Hello-larious.  I dangle it carrot-style to all of you who have opted OUT of the late September trip to GA.  My stick-style strategy is to yell threats via fb messages like Yeldah does.  

Mike, I teach a bunch of 8 year olds now and all their moms want to be friends with me on FB , so keep the fast-pooping comments to yourself.  NOT!  KEEP EM COMING.  

That's all

amy

I forgot?/MEALPLAN

So I've been sitting at work with nothing to do for...mmm, I'm going to go with an hour, and with building frustration, I almost said aloud, "what else should I surf on the internet," which is when I realized what I had done.

I've ignored you, and I'm sorry. The problem is, though, I have no lists, no top-tens, because I spend my days working-watching lost (!!!!)-sleeping-repeat. AND, since the cafe is indefinitely A-BUST (don't get me started), I fear this will be the beginning of my future. ugh.

so instead, I'll just let you all know that TODAY I GOT A MEAL PLAN! you have no idea how happy this makes me. After weeks of Amy's frozen burritos for lunch everyday (I bet you didn't know that Amy has been making me burritos, freezing them and sending them to me everyday--did ya, did ya?), our meal allowances have finally been enacted, with people ready-and-waiting to make me salads! pasta! sandwiches! smoothies! potatoes-au-gratin! It's like college, but different!

On another note, if any of you aren't busy, and have an interest in catching some tennis, the qualifiers are free and open to the public all this week! and you could come see me! wouldn't that be fun?

alright, i must go. someone might need me. probably not, but you never know...

Stories from the Bronx, yo!

Here's the thing...

blogging intimidates me.

i feel like i can only write something if i have something really either important or funny to write. But no matter what I write, I fear I'll always be lame compared to my fellow bloggers.

I guess I'll share a few of my favorite stories from the Bronx. That's somethign to blog about, right? Remind the rest of you (who have moved away from or plan to move away from the city) what you are missing.

Here was my summer.

1) I was hired as the drama instructor to a 300 kid day camp at a middle school in the Bronx and directed a musical version of "Aladdin."

2) I was the only white person on staff or in camp and the youngest instructor. My nickname became "white legs" (a nickname made by the girl who on the first day stood up in my class, snapped her fingers in my faced and said "why the FUCK do i have to respect you?").

3) I had to teach kids from the Bronx how to rap. Note: the only rap I'm familiar with is "Men in Black," which i mastered in the 7th grade on my karaoke machine, and Mike and Caroline's "Chocolate" rap.

4) After I taught them how to rap, I had to choreograph a rap. That was fun.

5) I witnessed a near shooting THREE times

6) They sell cinnamon rolls the size of my face for $1 in the Bronx.

7) I had either a large Diet Coke or a $1 icecream every day from McDonalds, because it was the ONLY way I could get through my day

8) One of my co-workers name was "Xi-u." She introduced herself as "hi! I'm She'an...but I spell it with an "X."

9) CORNBREAD. For those of you who don't know what that means, I'm sure you will be told at some point.

10) I have never felt so fulfilled in all of my life. I met the most amazing children and people and feel that I have been forever changed from my experience this summer.

Ellen. out.

My Being the First Response

Allow me, dear friends - I'll be the first to respond, AS USUAL. Tell me, do you all hate reading my blogs? I think you do. Do you? Oh god... I have this fear that you hate reading my blogs and also that you see how pathetic it is that I'm always first to respond. And now you're reading this and nodding you're heads and laughing, oh you're laughing!, and you're happy that I finally realize how much you hate my blogs.

But now you're not laughing, you're frowning and you're cocking your heads to the side because, alas, I continue to blog.

It's my duty, bitches. As first responder (and licensed doctor, need I remind you?), I offer here a medical report regarding our ailing blog:

Name: PHD-lite
Age: 1 yr
Condition: Comatose
Pulse: Once, sometimes Twice/week
Diagnosis: Multi-system failure
Treatment: More blogging!

Oh god, this is why you hate my blogs! Because I do cute things like this? It's totally annoying, right? Oh god... get serious, Mike! Law school! Logic games! Yes, logic games, Amy, are indeed my favorite! Yes! But I need to start doing them again - I took a brief hiatus to... watch TV and stuff. But, heretofore, henceworth and so on, I shall return to the law! An esquire I shall be!

Also, Amy, I would love to do a road-trip! Now, Memorial Day weekend is early in September, right? I really should be practicing then, though. And how would I get home again? I don't know. We need to figure this out. You know, I can't go. No, final answer. Well, who else is going? Can I phone a friend? Wait, no. No, final answer.

You know, Amy, you and I could just use this blog to pen-pal with each other. Would you like that? I realize that you usually address your blogs to everyone, and also that you seem to avoid any direct conversation with me (You made me #10 on your Top Ten and only wrote a few short sentences to me about some factory that I do not work at, which I thought I had cleared up in my previous blog. Throw me a bone here, Amy!)

As for the rest of you haters... I have nothing more to say. This is Doc, signing off. This visit, being a house call, cost you each a hundred dollars. I take personal checks, certified checks, money orders, cash, coins, chocolate and Trident original gum.

My entry is now over. Happy? ARE YOU HAPPY?!

Installment the 2nd

Hello Romans!  

Aka: slackers.

I'm not quite ready to let this blog die, so in an effort to engage all you deadbeats, I proudly present this week's top 10 list.

10.  Mike, how's NJ?  How's the factory; how are the child-laborers, and how much do you love LSAT logic games???  

9.  Katie, how's the U.S. Open treating you, and, while we're on the subject, have you heard Hadley's and my latest idea for the romantic movie event of our generation?  It's called "Ball Girl."  Once your restaurant gets up and running, I'll want you to invest.  Also, please see to it that Karen includes Edamame Dumplings on your menu.  

8.  Caroline, many thanks for the fantastic email.  I had half a mind to copy and paste that shit right here in the blogosphere.  How is the kid?  Francois?  Is he alive?  Is that his name?  Parlez vous Frances yet?  Where are you in the move from top to topless swimming?  Please keep us posted.

7.  Ellen, what's the status on my bed?  I told a certain acronymed-male to get in touch with you about picking it up.  I assume he has not.  Is my subletter still alive?  Is he maybe a vampire?  Also, what are the kiddies like in Queens?  Royal pains?  Get it??

6. Mychal, I gave you so much great stalking material.  Please respond accordingly.  I particularly would welcome your thoughts on the robot lawnmower.  

5.  Hadley, how'd you feel about Time Traveler's Wife?  Any thoughts you'd like to share?  Maybe you could also give us a recap of the last week you spent with a certain someone. And I don't mean Shoals.  ALSO, omg, I was talking to my favorite person in Company, and I found out that she knows another Hadley.  And her Hadley happens to be one of her closest friends.  AND, IT'S NOT YOU!

4. Amy, do you think this thinly veiled attempt to save the blog via a fake top 10 list is going to work?  

3.  All, do you realize if we found a friend whose name started with a P, we could form the phrase "CHAMP, K?"with the first letters of each of our name?  Let's start taking applications.

2.  All, does anyone have any interest in road-tripping down to athens with me over labor day weekend?  I have been assigned the task of driving my brother's car from boston to georgia--a 16 hour trip. Regardless, I will be in NYC on saturday.  I think we should do dinner.  EDAMAME DUMPLINGS.

1.  All, on a scale of 1 to 10 how lame is this list?  Please don't let it be the first thing we see when we come to phdlite for too long.

Overnout

A

My Being of the Opposite Sex

Me too, Amy, me too! I am SO glad I am not the only one to be rejected by Yeldah in bed! I thought this barrier thing had something to do with my being of the opposite sex and her being attracted to me. This, I thought, was the most probable explanation. Afterall, haven't you heard? I have pecs now. I work out. I'm lifting fifteens and riding on twenty-twos, on the real. I do not, I tell you, sew bloody dresses in some fuck factory in Jersey! (But listen to this coinky-dink: At age 5, I planned to become a dressmaker. But I gave that up in favor of becoming a barber. And that for becoming a jockey. I LOVED Thoroughbreds. Still do.)

I wish to conclude this resurrection by wishing everyone a Good Friday (get it?!) Go in peace.

THE BLOG IS BACK installment the first

Romans, friends...well, mainly just Romans,

With this new phdlite era, about which I could not be more pleased, I'd like to contribute a top 10 list from my recent trip to visit nyc, regarding specifically my observations and reflections on its prima-resident, yeldah.

10.  Yeldah greeted me in typically unpredictable form: by scaring the living bejesus out of me.   As I finished my 1 story commute via elevator (who needs stairs these days?) to the much less impressively named "2W"  (more like 2badit'snotphd), I looked up, jumped, and screamed all at the same time.  Why, you ask?  Instead of seeing a closed 2w door, I saw hadley (in the housedress she gave to me and then reclaimed).  Shocking.  I decided the only way to calm down was to down 3 glasses of wine and the assortment of refrigerator goods yeldah spread before me, including a 4 cheese quesadilla, ranier cherries, celery, hummus and an entire roast chicken.  I scare and hunger easily.  

9.  Following my feast, I decided to ditch Yeldah and 2W for another acronym, a friend of mine who goes by, well, an acronym.  I arrived back at 2W 3 hours and about 5 drinks later, and for reasons I don't fully comprehend even now in complete sobriety, I decided it was more respectful to stay the night on the couch, in my clothes.  Yeld, simultaneously (we found out later), in her sleep stupor, thought I was offended by the barrier* she had set up in the middle of her bed to safeguard her body from mine.  It was for this reason, she thought, that I had refused her body and her bed.  The barrier, as it turns out, caused more drama than it prevented over the course of the weekend. A few nights later, (according to yeld, who reminded me frequently throughout the next day) in my sleep, I crossed the barrier with my left foot and (gasp) made contact with yeldah's right lower leg!  

8.  Our plan for my first full day in new york involved (the following is a quote taken from yeldah's status update): "Brunches, puppies, open houses, movies, true bloods. And all with Amy!!!" What our day ultimately ended up including was a 2pm brunch, a movie, a 3 hour nap, and see 7.  I was too hungover and wooed by hadley's enormous bed to do much else.  The movie, by the way, was Julie and Julia, which despite being absolutely wonderful, was also embittering.  WHY DIDN'T I THINK OF THAT DAMN IDEA TO COOK THROUGH A COOKBOOK AND BLOG ABOUT IT?  INSTEAD I AM HERE ON PHDLITE BLOGGING ABOUT A BLOG I WISH I HAD COME UP WITH.  

7.  Perhaps the event I most looked forward to of the entire trip was the Sunday 9pm airing of the latest installment in the 2nd greatest tv show on air (FNL, don't worry, you're still my number one), TRUE BLOOD.  I raced home from a dinner [way. up. town.] just in time to catch the episode, which hadley had dutifully dvred (I was, I admit, 15 minutes late).  Well, at about the 10 minute mark (just as things were getting unbearably good), the effing tv freezes.  Yeldah, my consummate host, had unintentionally stopped the recording process, so we were left hanging in frozen despair until the next airing of trueblood a whopping TWO HOURS LATER.

6.  The 11:30 airing of trueblood was amazing.

5.  The next evening, Yeldah and Helkat and I met each other for dinner at Buddakan, Yeldah's favorite restaurant in the city.  Yeldah really kicked off the evening with a bang by ordering a cocktail that incorporated equal parts strawberry and chipotle peppers! And perhaps even more surprising...alcohol!!   Yeldah took the reigns in guiding her new ponies (that's me and hellkat) in ordering.  Namely, she insisted we get the edamame dumplings.  More like EdaMAMA MIA dumplings.  They were pocket-full-of-heaven-sunshine-and-Yasmin-Reese delicious.  (A sidenote:  Yeldah, turns out I have been to Buddakan before!  In Atlantic City about 3 years ago.  At that establishment, the centerpiece is a huge (HUGE) golden buddah, and it was while eating dinner in his presence that I came up with my restaurant concept "Commune," a bread and wine bar featuring a big statue of Jesus.)  

4.  Then I played softball with John Stewart. 

3.  Yeldah and I also saw the movie, "The Orphan,"  which exceeded all of our expectations.  Yeldah, in true form, made us get to the theater 45 minutes early to avoid a sold-out audience.   Unbelievably, there were still seats available at the 2pm Monday showing**!!  Also of note was my major existential crisis about whether to buy popcorn or not.  

2.  Our Tuesday morning involved a double order of pancakes, and a post-pancake nap by hadley, while I watched Sandra Lee dump oatmeal packages on top of canned apples, a treat which she lovingly referred to as a "Betty."  The lady is crayzywithaycrazy.

1.  Maybe you've realized, like I have, that this top 10 list isn't a list; it's just a chronological account of my visit.  Bright young whippersnaps you all are.  Wanna cookie?  

0.  Yeldah also signed into my facebook account and went sandra-lee-style-crazy with a trueblood quiz, a status update and a wallpost.   I would direct you to the evidence on my wall, but I deleted that ridankadickness***.

-1.  I'm now on my way to youtube to learn how to dice an onion.  My soon-to-be-published cookbook, "Me and My Food: Cooking in Place of Friends"  is mere slices away from the presses...

OVER AND OUT, PHDLITE4EVA,

A

*A pillow.  

**There were 2 other people there.

***Yeldah's newest addition to her ever-growing arsenal of made-up words. 

IT'S ALIIIIIIIIIIIIVE

Friends, Romans,  ....well mainly just friends. 

I was about to remove this blog from my bookmarks, as it seems that the blog has truly ceased to exist in the past few months.  But THEN, I took a trip down memory lane and read some of our posts.  And I believe this blog is GOOD.  I also am surprised that we managed to blog so much to each other even though we saw each other numerous times a week.  

But now?  I see Katie for an hour after work like twice a week because she has sold her self (read: body) to the UP Open (read: US brothel), Mike is holed up in some factory in Jersey sewing until his fingers bleed all over the muslin dresses he fashions, Amy is around 11-yea-olds all day in the deep south and has replaced all other human contact with cooking, Mychal has been taken hostage by a clan of mountain people in the backwoods of Minnesota, Caroline has decided that she needs to be a clown and a nanny, the two of which only go hand-in-hand in the brassieres of Paris, I (Yeldah, folks) spend the majority of my time watching entire seasons of tv shows alone in my bed, and Ellen moved to Queens. 

WE HAVE MORE TO BLOG ABOUT NOW THAT EVER!!  

I think that as a last effort to save the friendships we forged four score and seven years ago, we should resurrect this blog, and GIVE THE POWER TO THE PEOPLE. 

The above task is easier said than done.  I have decided to establish a RULE.  You may not like that, but since I am the only one who cares enough about all of you to make this shit happen, you WILL comply.  

I want EVERY PERSON to post something on this blog ONCE A WEEK.  I know.  I know this seems a lot.  But you can post one sentence, one word!  One feeling!!  THIS IS WHAT IT TAKES. 

This is what it takes to maintain our friendships.  And to get a book deal (did you see Julie and Julia yet??  This is basically my new scheme to get famous).  But mainly the friendships. 

OK.  GO! WRITE! POST! MAKE ME PROUDDDDD!!

xoxo, Y

Smaller, Tougher and Even Easier to Use!

http://www.sensotran.com/ENGLISH/Biosystems/phdlite.htm

who knew?!

I wanted to post a blog about Jason Mesfuck...


...but I'm still too pissed.


All I can say is, Mesfuck puts Jhud to shame in the deceit department.

The Battle of the hudson Rages on...

RIP my ASS. 

That doesn't look right. 

Anyway. 

I know you all have made note of my (perhaps poorly-timed) entry cataloging some of Singer jennifer hudson's (I know that technically it's a proper noun, but I can't bring myself to capitalize it.  Sue me.) many, many flaws.  I will say right off that a few of my examples were low-blows.  For instance, stating hudson's work record at the local Burger King (note the capitals) was almost certainly beneath me.  For these remarks I do not apologize.  

 

I would like to call your attention back to the section about ms. hudson that proves her incapacity to tell the truth, perhaps my more solid material.  Above all else, her ability to brazenly tell lies wherever she goes worries me so much I have trouble sleeping at night.  I picture her spouting falsities until five or six in the morning, unable to ignore the cacophonous outpouring of her deceit.  I was trying to move on.  To forgive her infidelities.  But then I came across the following article:

Academy Award winning actress (gag) Jennifer Hudson has turned down a $3,000,000 role in a Warner Bros. Film because of a nude scene.  Ready for the twist?  She's not even the one getting naked!

The Dreamgirls star says that she WILL NEVER APPEAR IN A FILM THAT HAS NUDITY (I decided to capitalize that part for simplification later) because she is a role model to young black women.  

This article is dated March 1st, 2007.  The Sex and the City Movie, filled with nudity of all varieties,  was released May 30th, 2008.  She thinks the passage of time makes it ok to LIE TO THE AMERICAN PEOPLE?!

Oh, excuse me.  I forgot.  Not ALL American people.  She only wants to be a role model to young black women.  So any white girls aspiring to this rank pillar of falsehood, guess again!!  You're not welcome here!!  And to those middle aged men everywhere, jenhud will NOT sing for you.  

I can't believe I caught her so easily, once again deceiving everyone around her.  Turning down millions of dollars to feign moral high-priestessness, uncaring about the people she has hurt and the reputation that is doomed to disintegrate (though, surprisingly, this is yet to happen).

If I didn't convince you before (*cough* DOC *cough*), don't even try to tell me you don't believe it now.  jennifer hudson is a FRAUD.  And no fraud should be famous.  Just ask former President Clinton.  

I wish I could impeach jennifer hudson. 

OUT

yeldah  

RIP

I think the blog has died...

I'M BACK

I'M BACK AND YES, I MISSED YOU TOO.

This is the start of my new life, post-college! I am presently drinking some flat champagne and mopping the apartment floors... Now if I ain't livin' on a prayer...