Pillow Talk, Kinda

Song: Chasing Pavements by Adele.

This post is dedicated to my friend Mary who always says she would like to spend ten minutes in my mind (and not a minute more). Here's a snippet from my weekend trip to Los Angeles. I hope you get something out of what may only amount to a dizzying whirl around my brain.

"Mama, Is the Easter Bunny half man, half bunny?" My son, Colbert, 6, hollars an inch from my face as if it's 7:30 a.m. in New York and not 4:30 a.m. California time. We are in California, it's been two days but he's not adjusted.

"No." I whisper, eyes quickly shutting after being shocked out of sleep. "He's all bunny."

"THEN WHY IS HE LIKE FIVE FEET TALL?!" He asks, exasperated.

I start laughing. I've never thought of that.

"And what does he do the rest of the year? Does he just hang out with Santa Claus and The Tooth Fairy and Cupid?" He is serious. He wants an answer. This could go on until 5a.m., forever.

"I don't know, baby, I think Cupid works all year." I am starting to wake up and connect,  "Actually,  The Tooth Fairy probably works all year too."

"Yeah, prollaly." He agrees, cuddling in.

So much about this exchange had me thinking. How come I never questioned why the Easter Bunny is "like five feet tall"? He can't be real, real bunnies don't grow to five feet and carry a basket and stand up and shake hands at parades. I don't even have to Google "Bunnies" to know that. I mean I have known forever that he's not real, in fact, he's been me for years, but I never thought about how tall he was, a dead giveaway.  And Cupid? How does he know about Cupid? I love Cupid. Speaking of, how come this is my pillow talk? Hunh? Cupid? Chest pump and bump.

Cause I'm the luckiest, that's why <3.

No, Cupid's not the thing, there's something here about the Easter Bunny that I need to figure out. Or at least trip over until I fall back to sleep. How many Easter Bunnies are in my life? People, things or ideas that can't possibly be real but that I accept as such, things I never question? How about relationships that are about as real as the Easter Bunny? A couple come to mind.  A girl who tells me she's my best friend but doesn't know the name of my blog or that I had another baby, I just laugh, go along with it, that's okay, she's fun, she's not my best friend but if she thinks I'm hers, what do I care?

I get a lot out of the Easter Bunnies in my life. Not everything has to be so black and white and sterile. I love the romance of the Easter Bunny. Delightful and temporary. That a big fat fluffy rabbit used to come and leave me a basket of sugary treats, made my month. Now that I am the Easter Bunny, it makes my day (hectic)!

That a situation may also be a lot of big fat fluff is okay, too. I mean, of course, finding out that something, or worse someone, you thought was real, is in actuality an Easter Bunny always stings, but it shouldn't break your heart. It's not like finding out your husband is a serial killer or your mother was duped by a Ponzi scheme. It's a wake-up call not a bucket of ice over the head. It's not Santa. It might be The X-factor audition and Simon telling you you are horrid, miserable. It might be an imagined fling. Like my friend who thought she was having this complicated romance as the guy in question is posting pictures of his girlfriend on Facebook... nope not complicated, not in existence! He showed up resembling a relationship, cute, kind and chatty, and she began to fantasize that something more magical was happening. Game show "X". Like the Easter Bunny, he's kind of a bunny, but really he's just a man in a fun get-up, a symbol of youth perhaps fertility.  An Easter Bunny is a situation that might best be looked at as an important reality check. It's important to have big dreams and a vision, it's fun! Just keep it real so you don't get too wrapped up and end up living in a fantasy land. Hey, Alice in Wonderland, feel free to fall in the rabbit hole, there's a lot to learn down there! Just come out! So it's a situation where all you have to do is ask yourself one or two obvious questions to get your answer. Why is he like five feet tall then? What does he do the rest of the year? Does she know the name of my blog? Or my baby?

I have a fondness for my Easter Bunnies, they continue to serve me. Deep down I know what's real. And there's really nothing wrong with a five foot tall person in a rabbit suit pretending to be a bunny. Unless of course, you try to go home with him.. And then his pink ears and his big white head come off and it's a little Japanese man.  That could be confusing, and potentially dangerous, but maybe it could be great! You may end up with really satisfying pillow talk. That's up to Cupid <3.
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Leave a comment... Thanks!

Bradley Cooper Boy Crazy

Song: Don't Take The Girl by Tim McGraw

First, I want to talk about my former Cohort IV Actor's Studio MFA program member, and this year's People Magazines contested Sexiest Man Alive, Bradley Cooper.  How funny and ridiculous that people are up in arms over who dons the title. That would totally happen to me, except that I would never be nominated (I can barely get the people I know to so much as put a "like" by my fb blog,  nonetheless convince the world they should pay money to see me), but say I was,  people would definitely cry "Bullshit!" or at least cough it into their sleeve. Or maybe not, maybe, everyone would be totally behind me, "Yes, she is the sexiest man alive!" Can you imagine? How awful. I think I even saw some banners go up by the Occupy Wall Street people, a cause they are clear on, elbow, elbow. But he won and how great to even be considered?!

He was just another guy in my class. Granted he was rumored to get his hair done by a designer salon and had a deluxe wardrobe, but that he has catapulted himself into super stardom is nothing but nuts. When I see Bradley I don't think, "Wow, sexiest man alive" I think, "Holy crap, Bradley? How the hell did he do that?" It takes so much to even get an audition. To get some perspective think about every movie you've ever seen and every extra in it. Think of a stadium scene in one of them, everyone of those extra's wants to be the star. Then think of every show, every commercial...

We weren't tight, but I remember in our third year of grad school, him telling me he wanted to quit because he had gone on about forty auditions in that week alone and hadn't gotten anything, he was scared. I was like, "Pull yourself together, at least you're going on auditions, those people don't even know the rest of us slobs are alive." Well, he sure ran with that advice. So, kudos to you Coop. After working through my pangs of jealousy, it's exciting to see someone reach that kind of success. It not only makes the world smaller, but achieving a dream feel possible.

Second, I'm boy crazy. If you are a repeat reader you know that I am the mother of three little boys. Well, two little boys and an infant. I wonder sometimes if God wasn't trying to hammer me over the head with how good boys are, something I never understood before having sons. I mean, let's get clear, I always loved boys, but I considered them as mercurial and naughty as the devil himself. One day he loved me the next day he couldn't remember my name or one day he was cute and washed and funny and the next he was nasty and smelly and lame. Or I'd get the "ew's". The ew's is the experience of waking up to the reality that your prince charming is really a pasty toad.

In my mind boys and girls couldn't have been further apart. Especially since boys had no feelings, at least not the way I did.

And then came Colbert, my first son. I swear rays of golden light shot off of him the second he came into the world. Then, all he had were feelings and his feelings became the center of my life. He just turned six, so I bare in mind that puberty might change things, but right now he and my 3 1/2 year old Julian have the biggest hearts and the sweetest intentions of anyone I've ever known. More than me. Well, now I'm exaggerating, but you get my point.

I'm awakened to a whole new way of seeing the world. I'm almost convinced that the men of my and my friends past weren't beasts, they were scared. I was never taught that. For instance, before a birthday party or when I do the drop off at school I have to give Colbert a warm up talk. It seems he has such anxiety that his stomach knots and he can't speak or make eye contact. So we take deep breaths and discuss our strategy.

"Someone will say hello and all you have to do is smile and say hi back." I say, and then I think a bit, from his point of view, "you know forget saying hi back, just smile, if it's too much."

It rarely works. Whenever I'm with him a bunch of girls run up and say "Hiiiiii! Cole-bert! Heyyyy!".  Most of the time, he keeps walking, head straight ahead, his hand squeezing mine. Sometimes though, he finds the courage and musters a nod. Now if I were one of those girls I'd think he was a snotty little boy. But being his mama I know he's simply terrified. New eyes on life I tell ya. A whole nudder perspective, like.

Seeing people working from fear has carried over to all of my relationships, it helps me be more understanding. Sometimes, I can even see where I, myself am connecting to the fear of a situation instead of the truth. But this is very hard, my fear wants to convince me that monsters are real, it wants me to shrink and play small. So usually I need someone to give me a pep talk too.  Maybe one day, if I'm a good example, or I tell him the story of Bradley Cooper, it will be Colbert.

I love this song by Tim McGraw, it makes me feel the heart of a boy and how lucky and great it is to be a girl loved by three.

House Hunters Senseychelles! and a Video Clip of my audition. Yikes.

*when I previewed this my click on links were only showing as light gray instead of the obvious bright blue, so If you see light gray or faded gray type, that's a link...click on it if you want. *

HGTV's House Hunters International is a great way to find relief from The Real Housebyatches while fantasizing about living in a majestic farmhouse in the south of France for $260,000., instead of wondering if every interaction you have with your girlfriends ends in being verbally torn to shreds behind your back. Talk about a win-win. 

There are a variety of House Hunter shows, there's plain House Hunters who are persons searching for properties in various parts of the United States. I'm not even posting a link. A lot of these folks are not dropping big dollars, just FYI, so if you're interested in shopping for a mid-range splanch in Seattle, that's your baby. For my money, there is only H.H. International. I'm an escapist with no budget and big dreams who loves learning about foreign lands surrounded by sandy beaches. Being transported with a young surfer family to the Seychelles and deciding amongst several waterfront properties with a pool and a staff, fully furnished for less than I'd pay for an unheated garage on Long Island, is my idea of a good time. I'm also partial to House Hunters Million Dollar Buyers, those are harder to come by.  Selling L.A. is a great one for swanky pads, major budgets, glib agents and mostly young buyers, as is Selling New York, I love watching those jerks.

But you may find that Property Virgins is your bag. That's where people enjoy watching first-time cash strapped home buyers walking around saying things like, "Well, she didn't love the kitchen." and "We were hoping for more of a walk-in." "He's not prepared to go up another thousand." That doesn't do it for me, but, like I've said, I'm into fantasy, big enchiladas, lots of cheese. You may have a more practical nature.

Either way each couple is shown three homes to decide on. We watch them kick the bricks around all three and then at the end they decide, in drum roll fashion, which one they are going to buy. It's fun to guess.  And love them for guessing right (picking the one I wanted) or call them morons for picking wrong (the one my husband wanted). Finding that they picked the one you knew they were going to pick but that you yourself wouldn't want to be in eyeball distance of also satisfies.  I just learned through this gals blog, Hooked on Houses, that some of it may be a sham. Meaning, some of the couples may have already purchased one of the three homes before the episode was filmed. This doesn't bother me. I am hooked on houses. Especially far off ones, with beaches oh, and surfers. Hey, I'm married not dead. Wink, wink. Up top.

On another note...I mentioned that an agent requested seeing me "on tape". I was happy to but there were three obstacles 1.) I hate seeing myself on tape. 2.) I hate listening to myself on tape. 3.) I did not know what such nebulous phrasing meant, nor what the word nebulous meant. I decided to speak a short introduction of myself and then to write/sing him a song because I feel like the only time bragging is cool is when its being rapped...

 "Imagine me not workin' hard, yeah right, picture that with a kodak, better yet go to Times Square take a picture of me with a kodak" - Pitbull-por exemplo...

We filmed it and sent it in yesterday. It's got it all, air guitar with finger picking, country music, rap, white woman horrible rapper accent, necklace made of tinfoil, salad dressing and a carrot. Do yourself a favor and watch the great Melissa McCarthy on SNL doing Hidden Valley Ranch if you haven't seen it, (where have you been??) beforehand. IT'S ICONIC and I reference it. I also reference his wifes blog Divamoms.com, thought it couldn't hurt. But then I didn't mean to but sorta imply I'm going to cut his member in half...so it got weird...hey, it happens (shoulder shrug), hope you like it:)

Here's my link its on youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yazQIDBBuTs.

Script.
Free-style Intro.
I'm just gonna tune up here for a second. Meee-mee. Brian, Stern, mee-mee-mee mee, Stern, Brian.
Country singing:
Oh Brian Stern there is so much to do, I can't seem to find my path that's why I need you.
Oh Brian Stern I know you launched J. Hud, did you even get her skinny? Cause now we like her butt.
Oh Brian Stern...wait a second this just...feels ridiculous i need something with a little more pizazz a little more bass, what's this? (pick up tinfoil necklace) yeah, that's it.

Rap a puh puh puh a iggy iggy iggy...
I got kryptonite dreams, silver screen visions,
I need you to hook me up and make some good decisions.

I could host morning like Hoda and Kathie Lee or kill it like Billy and Kit on T.V.
I think I'm serious, people tell me I'm funny, Brian I don't care just show me the money.

I got three kids to feed and a dog to walk,
I gotta do more now than talk the talk.
I put on a Crest White Strip while I'm mowing the lawn
I was feeding a baby when I wrote this song.

Brian I know you've got kids too and a hot Divamom of a wife
Now its time for you to pass me the knife.
I'll slice it, dice it, cut it in half,
No idea what i'm saying just to make you laugh.

Acting, writing it aint' no thing my hubby took note before I got the ring
Ring, ring, call me, Call Me Come Alive!
Forget that put me on Saturday Night Live

I'm like Melissa McCarthy with sex appeal
Sucking down dressing now that's the real deal.
Lorne Michaels, Spielberg- those are my people.

If Hollywood is the church? Then my face is the steeple.
Peace. I'm out. I'm out. I'm out.

Please leave a comment here tell me what your favorite show is, Thanks!

The Rett Set

"Big Fat Penis!" I call, "What's up?"

I call into the living room of the apartment we share on 77th Street in New York City. The apartment, Rachel, or Big Fat Penis, as I call her, secured for us.

I was a senior at NYU, she was a first year grad student at Columbia, she was earning her Master's in Social Work.  We had met three years earlier at the University of Rhode Island before I transferred.  We became roommates. She always did everything right, for everybody. I'm not really sure as nicknames go why she ended up with Big Fat Penis, but she took it in stride, then called me the same thing. It became our greeting and then our way of communicating our feelings.

"Hey how's your Peen?" I'd ask.
"Pretty plump. Yours?" she'd say.
"Feeling limpish," I might confess.
"Oh, no, what's wrong with your Peen?" She'd ask.
"Test today."
"Oh." She'd understand, pausing to look at me.
"It's okay it'll be plump soon, I studied up." I might say, on the bright side.
"Totally, keep it plumpy." She'd say, before I headed out. "Later Peen."
"Later, Big Fat Penis."

We've been in the periphery of each other's lives since 1996. Keeping in touch over beginnings, middles and endings like weddings, births, holidays and funerals. We always call each other Peen.

We have babies close in age, my middle, her last, born within days of each other. When I heard about her first born daughter Zoe, coming down with Retts syndrome, I researched what it was. I write, "coming down with" because for the beginning of Zoe's life she was thriving, like any healthy baby and then, as I learned happens with Retts, she started declining. It's one of lifes cruelest tricks.  Rett's is a genetc disorder almost exclusively in girls where the baby is growing and learning like any other and then at, before or around two years old starts to lose everything she learned, like saying her baby brothers name or holding her sippy cup.  Her life expectancy is not long.  Even if you don't have kids it's not difficult to imagine how devastating the situation is, although we will never know the hell of Peen's day to day frustration and agony, every day a new kind of test, the kind she can't study for. She has a bright outlook, appreciates the little moments.  She still says, when I ask, some day's are plumper than others.

So when she sent out this letter about her fundraiser November 9, 2011 (pasted below), I thought what little could I do? I could raise a little bit of awareness for Peen and her family, maybe raise some funding for Rett research that there may be a cure to reverse the syndrome in Zoe's lifetime, which is miraculously looking more and more possible. Please read it and pass it on, feel free to repost my blog. Let's help Reverse Rett. The Rett set, the coolest kids around. Thanks.

Please leave a comment here. I am trying to build a community! Thanks!