Atta Girl...

Finally did the last day of temping and all the productive things I WANTED to do today were eclipsed by simply drinking coffee, recovering from my roommate's birthday party and staring out the window like a schlumpf. Meh... what can ya do.

There's always tomorrow.

Have decided to take on the task of cooking Thanksgiving dinner. It's time. I blame Julia and the renaissance surrounding her work in the kitchen. I think it's past due that I attempted such a mammoth task in my small little cubby hole of a Queens kitchen. Bird in oven, stuffing, about six thousand desserts and lots... LOTS of wine... plus a Xanax or two to keep me from jumping in front of traffic when it comes down to timing.

I have a whoooooole lot of unemployment coming to me and I plan on using the time for auditions and the gym. Hell, why not... That IS why we came to Camp New York, isn't it?

Sitting in a desk is enough to make me crazy. I had a great boss, but I have to admit, I don't like getting bollocked out because one of the directors missed a call from the London office because he wasn't at HIS desk. "I'm soooooo sorry, it's possible that I, or the two other assistants I notified, might have been running interference for the OTHER five people we support in tandem with YOU"... but no... you can't say that. You just have to smile demurely (making sure your fangs are covered)... take a deep breath and try to make sure that the rat poison and the coffee sweetener don't look alike... I now understand why secretaries drink at lunch.

At any rate, I'm done and Monday begins the audition cycle and gym. Tuesday, I will be catering at the cramped dining room at Carnegie Hall. Now that there is 40 pounds less of me, it will be a little easier on my body and it's a job I don't have to take home with me. It's just the GETTING home at Sleep Thirty when all the subways are local and the only occupants are more or less indigents.

Dinner guests next week for which I intend on turning it out French style with the flounder, the buerre blanc and something diva like with pears.
In between all of this, I will try to make sure that the paperwork for my health insurance is done properly and LEGALLY so as not to be dropped and hopefully get the rent a LITTLE closer to being paid on time. I may even go on a date. Yes... a date... one of those things where someone who thinks you are attractive actually decides to pay for dinner. The odd thing is, I haven't been on one in so long, I can't really remember the game. Well... back on the horse, so to speak.

It really is time to play the lottery. It is also time to lower the cat down to street level so it can eat that damned cockatoo at the dodgy florist under me. Sounds like a Peacock in a food processor.

Sigh...