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.