And so my current stalking of stars via Broadway plays continues as I caught a matinee performance of A View from the Bridge staring Liev Schreiber and Scarlett Johansson. I splurged on the “good seats” and I had a front row of the mezzanine. Ssome may consider Orchestra seats to be the premium, but depending upon the theater often I prefer the front row of the mezzanine as a way to ensure that I am not forced to crook my neck around the giant lemon of a head of the person in front of me. The theater was such that I felt like I was close enough to sit on Liev’s lap, a proposition that I do not find all together unappealing.

A View from the Bridge is set in Red Hook during the wave of immigration in the 1900s. It is a dark play, yet there were several moments for laughter, which helped to keep the play a bit lighter. Liev plays Eddie Carbone an Italian American longshoreman who lives with his wife Beatrice and his niece Catherine (Scarlett) for whom he is the guardian. I found Beatrice to be an annoying character, but I suppose that was the point of her. She is threatened by Eddie’s feelings for Catherine, perhaps rightfully so, but at times she throws Catherine under the bus a bit too much for my liking. Eddie is very protective of Catherine and he becomes increasingly uncomfortable with seeing her turn into a woman. At times it is suggested that he might be falling in love with her (como se dice “creepy” in Italian). These feelings become more apparent once Beatrice’s two cousins Marco and Rudolpho come to America illegally and stay with the Carbone family. Chaos ensues when Catherine and Rudolpho fall in love. To say that Eddie is not a fan of Rudy is an understatement. Eddie is convinced that Rudolpho sees Catherine as a ticket to a Green Card. Eddie also insinuates that Rudolpho is “just not right,” in other words, that he’s a little light in the loafers because he sings, dances, cooks, makes dresses. Maybe it is because I am a woman of a certain age but color me Oscar Wilde because Rudolpho sounds like an ideal husband. Bonus points if he can do an updo and accessorize me.

Although I joke about stalking celebrities at plays, I’m generally disappointed when I see them on Broadway. It is very rare that I am impressed by their performances. God of Carnage comes to mind as one of the only times where the cast’s performance impressed me. However, A View from the Bridge is also one of those rare occasions where it was worth the price of admission. Scarlett was a delight to watch on stage and I was able to think of her as Catherine rather than Scarlett Johnasson, Hollywood star and muse to Woody Allen. I also loved seeing a woman with curves on stage rather than some ambiguous stick figure. As for Liev, I kinda fell a little bit in love with him during the performance. I’ve seen him before at a private Shakespeare in the Park garden party a few years ago. He was there with his paramour Naomi Watts. I wasn’t overly concerned by his presence there. However, he gave such a powerful performance as Eddie, that I see him in a different light and now I am excited to see him in his next project.

Although time is running out, if you get a chance to see A View from the Bridge, you should jump at it.

I saw A Little Night Music the other night, which was perfect timing since I have tickets to attend Sondheim on Sondheim in a few weeks at Studio 54 and Stephen Sondheim did the score for A Little Night Music now starring Dame Angela Lansbury and Catherine Zeta Jones. Listen if Judi Dench can be a Dame then so can Jessica Fletcher. Incidentally, a Google search revealed that there is a Facebook page with 190 members devoted to making “Angela Lansbury a Dame of the Order of the British Empire.” The authors of the page scolded the Queen by stating, “Knighthoods (or their female equivalent) are in the hands of the Queen. She SHOULD know better. It is probable that the Queen has enjoyed ‘Bedknobs and Broomsticks’ more than once during her reign. One suspects that the Queen made time in her Royal schedule to watch ‘Murder, She Wrote’ every day when it was on after ‘Neighbours’”. I wonder if anyone has ever chastised the Queen by telling her Highness that “she SHOULD know better.”

As for the quality of the show, using Neil Rosen’s Big Apple Rating Scale I’d give it 2 1/2 apples. It’s a dark play and at times creepy when the audience realizes one of the main characters (Frederik) is married to an 18 year old girl (Anne) who is young enough to be his daughter and that Frederik’s teenage son is in love with Anne. The play also started out slow and I could hear my friends talking to each other as we all painfully trudged through the first half of Act I. The pace of the play was part of the reason we considered leaving at intermission or what I like to call theater halftime. I also found the location of the actor’s microphones to be distracting. Cathy Z’s was on her forehead and it was all we could look at and talk about when we watched her performance. Note to the wardrobe department maybe you could conceal it in the bird’s nest of a wig you have her wearing, just a suggestion.

As for the actual performances, I thought Angela Lansbury shined as Madame Armfeldt and her song “Liaisons” was one of the highlights of the show. Madame Armfeldt is an old woman nearing the end of her life who is confined largely to her wheel chair and it is from there while playing a game of solitaire she recounts the adventures she has had with her past paramours. The song is bitter sweet and there’s a ruefulness to her moment as a raconteur. She informs us that she has spent time at the villa of a Baron, the palace of a Duke, and has taken Kings for lovers. As she was reminiscing about her liaisons and lamenting the death of the romance associated with them, I couldn’t help but think how technology has destroyed the art of seduction as would be suitors resort to text messaging and emails as the preferred method of communication. When Madame Armfelt asks to no one in particular, “Where is style? Where is skill? Where is forethought? Where’s discretion of the heart? Where’s passion in the art?,” I found myself wondering the same thing. I wanted to sing along with her when she sang:

Liaisons! What’s happened to them?
Liaisons today.
Disgraceful! What’s become of them?
Some of them
Hardly pay their shoddy way.

Liaisons! What’s happened to them?
Liaisons today.
To see them–indiscriminate
Women, it
Pains me more than I can say,
The lack of taste that they display!

You sing it Jessica Fletcher!

Not to be outdone, Cathy Z gave a great rendition of “You Must Meet My Wife,” which involves a scene when she is reunited with Frederik, her former lover who is telling her how fantastic Anne is and like any ex-amour would, Cathy Z’s character Desiree was facetiously enthusiastic about meeting her rival since the idea of actually doing so is revolting to her. In Act II, Cathy Z gets to sing one of the most famous Broadway tunes, Send in the Clowns. Oddly, it didn’t dawn on me that song was in the show even though I had to settle a dispute between a couple who was arguing over the lyrics prior to the curtain going up. The husband was adamant that the song was “bring in the clowns” while the wife was holding her ground that it was “send in the clowns.” I was unable to refrain from interfering, in particular, because I have almost a turrets like compulsion to interject the right answer when people are wrong, and also because I used to have to sing that song in voice lessons as a child. Incidentally, that song is as close to clowns as I want to get. I still think the damn things are scary depressed closet alcoholics (well except maybe Fizbo the clown).

For those who want to save their money or for those wanting a preview, please check out the youtube link below. It includes all three of the songs I’ve mentioned (the singing doesn’t start until 53 seconds into the clip).

It was duing the evening rush hour while walking to the Wall Street train station via Wall Street itself when I saw a massive group of people armed with cameras who were all too happy to snap away. This was more than the usual sprawl of tourists who frequent downtown and clog up the foot traffice to snap some pictures of the NYSE, stand upon the steps of Federal Hall to get their picture taken next to a statute of George Washington, or to take pictures of Trinity Church. This motley crew gave the Brangelina Papparazzi a serious run for their money. Snap, snap, click, click, followed by an “OMG there he is.” This could only mean one thing…Wall Street was lined with stars and not the kind that glitter in the sky, but the kind that line the Walk of Fame. I knew they were filming the sequel to Wall Street because on my way to work I had seen a camera crew filming background crowd shots with extras. As an aside, I get a kick out of how authentic it looks when there is a crowd of walking down the streets of New York when in reality it is a carefully orchestrated staged shot of extras.

When I got into the office, I googled to see who was in the sequeln Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. I read a few articles that stated that Gordon Gekko would be played by Michael Douglass and Javier Bardem would be playing a sinister Hedge Fund Manager (is there any other kind?). So, I was hoping for a sighting of Javier because ever since Vicky Cristina Barcelona, I’ve had a thing for him. I can’t decide if I think Javier is caliente or if it’s just his interesting look coupled with his sexy accent that has me swooning. Officially, he’s in my category of “sexy-ugly.” I’ve put Benicio del Toro in there as well (a man who has great bone structure, but some tired looking eyes). I later learned that Javier had to back out due to scheduling conflicts and intead of Javey, we’ll be treated to Josh Brolin (wouldn’t kick him out of bed for eating crackers).

I get the original casting of Gordon Gekko, after all, no one else could play that role…who else could utter, “greed is good,” if not MD as Gekko? But Shia Labeouf as the equivalent of Bud Fox’s character? I’m not feeling it. My feelings were comfirmed when I saw Shia and MD filming a scene on Wall Street in front of the NYSC. Oliver Stone was there as well. First, let me say that I can see why Catherine Zeta Jones is drawn to MD. He is one good looking older man. However, Shia is like a man-boy. He looks like he should be starring in High School Musical. Although Charlie and Shia were roughly the same age when their characters went under the tutelage of Gekko, Charile looked more like the finance guys I have known and dated. Shia looks like their kid brother who still lives with his parents back in Jersey. But what do I know? I’m not Oliver Stone and perhaps Bud Fox was right when he said, “life all comes down to a few moments. This is one of them.”

And action! Try as I might to deny it, I’m a celebrity stalking whore. I’ve come to that realization after I pimped out my dogs to stalk the set of Nurse Jackie. Ok, maybe “pimped out” is a bit of a misnomer, but let’s just say I decided to take them on an extended walk to watch Nurse Jackie being filmed at “All Saint’s Hospital,” aka Baruch College. I figured a walk with the ladies could justify my leisurely pace and basic refusal to move and I knew that they would love making friends. My ladies became best-friends with the extras. Note to self become an extra, it seems fun! Scratch that, become a star!

I admit I became a fan of Nurse Jackie via a free Netflix preview, but because I don’t have cable I decided that sadly I would have to wait until the series came out on DVD. That is until I learned how to watch it online for free. Talk about feeling like a kid in the candy store. I may have watched the entire first season on a rainy Saturday. Ok, I confess, I did watch it all in one day. I was almost as addicted to the show as Jackie is to pain pills and infidelity. I can’t quite figure out why I like the show, but maybe it’s because it’s full of misfits and shows how complicated life can become and how flawed we all really are. Or it could be because I’m a not so closeted TV junkie. Whatever its draw, I was like a strung out junkie in desperate need of her next fix, I couldn’t stop hitting the play button on my laptop after each episode ended. And don’t even get me started on Jackie’s husband (who btw is uber hot in real life, much hotter than he is on TV).

After watching a few episodes, I could tell that Nurse Jackie was filmed near me because of the outdoor shoots that they do. Matter of fact, I could also tell that they messed with a subway sign in one episode, which really got my goat because I knew that there was no possible way there could be an N/R train station based on where they were standing. I wanted to go all Joe Wilson and shout “YOU LIE” to the TV for all of America to hear. Yes, I can be that anal. Inaccurate depictions stick in my craw!

Imagine my delight when my street was plastered with signs indicating that it was verboten to park on my street today due to the fact that Nurse Jackie was filming in the area, which to me, instantly meant the trailers would be parked on my street. Sure enough, all the cast’s trailers are parked right outside my front door (now if only I could find the catering truck). I’m not sure if Jackie’s trailer is incorrectly marked since there’s no “Jackie” trailer, but there is one trailer that says “Wackie’s trailer” and another that says “God,” not sure if “God” is code for the leading lady or what. If MJ could be Whacko Jacko, then maybe she’s Wackie Jackie?

One last thing about the shoot. In a few episodes there’s a guy who lives across the street from “All Saint’s” and he’ll stand in front of an open window in his robe and yell out crazy things. Well crazy guy’s apartment is located in this dumpy building, which I refused to enter to look at what looked like an amazing apartment from the NYT website, because the building is such a dump. Small world.

As they say in showbiz, I think this is the point where someone yells “cut, that’s a wrap!” Applause , applause, fade to black!

The Midnight Hour is close at hand as I write this, not since 1997 can I think of a triumvirate of celebrities passing away in such a short span as Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, the King of Pop. In 1997 we had Gianni Versace, the King of Fashion, Diana the Princess of Wales, and the beloved and blessed Mother Theresa. Diana’s death was the most shocking of all at my age as I was too young to know or care about John Lennon’s death. I remember where I was when I heard about Diana. I had flown home for a visit and my mother picked me up and told me Diana had been in a car accident. My youthful arrogance and belief in being invincible made me confident she’d be fine. I couldn’t have been more wrong. We waited up until 4.a.m or so when it was confirmed that Diana, the Princess of Wales was dead. It took weeks for it to sink in and I don’t think it became real until I moved to London and saw the massive amounts of flowers that people left at her residence.

Today, I have a similar sense of disbelief with the news that we lost a “PYT,” Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson today not to mention having lost Ed McMahon earlier this week. No more, “Here’s Johnny,” “I’m Charlie and they work for me,” and moon walking. It feels like the death of my childhood. I also feel sorry for Ed and Farrah, especially Farrah as I feel like her death is eclipsed by MJ’s.

Growing up, I wanted to be an Angel. Granted as a brunette, I saw myself more as a Jacqueline Smith type Angel than Farrah, but I loved them all! As for Ed, I truly believed as a child that I would be on the Tonight Show and meet Ed one day (hey a girl can dream). And as for MJ, I was in love with him when I was in the second grade. I wanted to marry him. I loved him so much and in only the way that a young girl can that it hurt. I didn’t quite get the whole 20 plus years age difference. I was totally jealous of the fact that my best-friend at the time had the MJ purse with his picture from the Thriller album on it and I only had a school folder with the same picture on it. I think it was then when I first learned to covet something someone else had that I wanted. So, in addition, to my first violation of one of the Commandments, I also ruined a pair of parachute pants by trying to imitate a dance move of MJ’s. Not only was my MJ move poorly executed and a laughing stock to my living room audience, but I ruined the coolest pair of parachute pants ever to be worn in my 4th grade class and I caught the wrath of my mom.

Although my affection for MJ has gone the way of Tom Cruise, which is to say I loved him until he started to get weird, he will be missed. From what I’ve noticed everyone is yada-yada-ing over the bad, but you’ve got to take the good with the bad. OMG did I just subconsciously pseudo-plagiarize the Facts of Life theme song? Um, a little bit. I will say this, my dad saw the warning signs even as early as Thriller and he’d remark that there was something off about MJ. The all knowing seven year old me told my dad he didn’t understand, which is a mantra I would repeat for the next 15 or so years, including the “Menudo years” when I bought a teddy bear with the intent of sending it to one of the Menudo members (so embarrassing). God only knows which one, but it definitely wasn’t Ricky Martin because I thought he was too wimpy looking back then (the RM obsession would have to wait until law school when Ricky became unbelievably hot and ambiguously gay). The teddy bear never got sent as clearer heads prevailed (translation my dad told me that they had so many girls sending them teddy bears that it was stupid for me to do it and after throwing a minor temper tantrum, I had to admit to myself that he was right. Plus he refused to pay for postage and at that age I was on what one might call a fixed income). Anyway, it is only after years of dad being right that I now use him as my oracle. Dad has never been wrong about any of the guys I’ve brought home for him to meet. He can sense someone’s freak flag before they’ve ever even bought it. I should rent dad out to my friends to detect if they’re dating a lemon.

Back to MJ, I was at drinks with someone tonight and I had learned that MJ had passed away earlier in the day. I think I learned earlier than most, so I wasn’t surprised when CNN finally broke the story. When the news flashed on the TV screen, you could hear people murmuring and then the bar went silent for a moment until the DJ played Billy Jean. I thought it wasn’t the right MJ song for the occasion. I thought Thriller might’ve been more apropos, but a nice gesture nonetheless. Part of me feels like I should run up to the Apollo Theater and join in the tribute to him, but instead I will choose to remember him privately. Oddly, I randomly did the moonwalk two days ago when I was at the bowling alley as a celebration of picking up a spare, which to me signifies how eternal MJ’s influence was.

You just never know where life is going to take you. I remember when he was born. I was a young girl. I remember watching him grow up in the public eye. We all watched him grow up, but if you ever told me I’d watch Prince Harry play polo at a charity match on Governors Island I would have told you that you were one sandwich short of a picnic, but that is exactly where life took me on Saturday. The fact that my favorite NY anchorman Pat Kiernan from NY1 was there interviewing the Polo announcer was just gravy. I have an oddly inexplicable crush on Pat Kiernan. For those of you who don’t know him, he’s the morning news anchor on NY1. I feel like if I’m not waking up with Pat then my day just isn’t the same.

CBS news was there and a reporter interviewed the group of girls next to us and asked why they were there. Although I hid behind my Guccis so as to not be picked up on camera, I did think to myself, if I were interviewed would it be too obnoxious to say, “to be with my people, to drink champagne, and to see his royal hotness and to land me a prince?” (BTW, I can’t take credit for HRH nickname as my friend came up with that one).

I have always loved Polo and Polo players. I cannot reiterate enough that we really blew it with respect to maintaining some of the best British traditions such as high tea, strawberries and cream and polo. I truly believe this is because we broke away from England too early and too violently to care about maintaining an interest in these lovely traditions (hello Boston Tea Party anyone?). Polo is where my people congregate. Who are my people? They’re your Vineyard Vines, Nantucket Reds with lobsters embroidered in them, popped collar polo boys (jury is still out on whether I think the time for the popped collar has passed and how I feel about the enlarged Polo pony on the new RL shirts…when I know, you’ll know) and your Lily Pulitzer dresses for the ladies (shockingly short in supply that day, but it was hard to select the proper attire when half of it is free and open to the public and half of it has attendees who dropped $50k for a table). Despite the fashion dilemmas, anywhere people gather in big fancy hats, wear oversized sunglasses, and where the sound of champagne corks popping off sounds like a symphony is where I want to be on a fantastically sunny day.

So, it was with perfect weather and with the backdrop of the Manhattan skyline that I saw the Prince enter the Polo grounds wearing white pants and a blue blazer. He walked in with an entourage and only mingled with the VIP section (lawn seats went for $500 and a seat at a table went for a cool $1K). Evidently 5-10 Benjamins got you complimentary Veuve and a private audience with one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. It was slightly annoying that he did not give any face time to the commoners camped out in the free section, which is where yours truly could be found (hey it’s a recession give me a break). Riddle me this, how is a girl supposed to land a prince if he’s surrounded by body guards and other people’s body guards? Hello Harry, it’s not like you’ll need to worry about abdicating the throne a la Edward VIII to marry an American. That’s William’s problem, pas vous!

Prince Harry breezed in and out of Manhattan. He was here for a grand total of 36 hours. They kept the wild child and international playboy on a tight leash. He was basically here to visit kids in Harlem, lay a wreath at ground zero, dedicate a garden, and look sexy in a polo outfit. I think the only bar he hit while in Manhattan was the hotel minibar at the St. Regis or Carlyle or the like.

We enjoyed a picnic lunch and some bubbly. The Veuve was refreshing on the warm sunny summer day. We clicked our glasses filled with heavenly nectar from the French gods and watched three of the four Chukkers. We didn’t stay for the fourth Chukker because we knew the ferry ride back to Manhattan, which comes only every half-hour, was going to be a nightmare if we stayed until the end and thus we missed PH getting sprayed with Veuve apres-polo. We did stay for the time honored tradition of divot stamping, which in addition to the fashion and the sound of the ponies rushing from one side of the pitch to the other is one of my favorite things about Polo. Divot stamping occurs at Polo’s equivalent of half time (evidently this happened in a scene in Pretty Woman, but I don’t remember it). Rumor has it that there was a VIP divot area where the well heeled including Madonna and kids, Marc Jacobs, Kate Hudson, Matt Lauer, David Lauren, Chloe Sevingny, and L.L. Cool J did a little divot stamping. After I did my own divot stamping I headed to the “stables” to do a little Prince stalking and caught some of these shots below.

Although I didn’t see Madge et co, I did see Nacho Figueras, famously hot Argentinean polo player and now face of Polo Black. Aye Dios Mio! Talk about muy guapo! Somebody get me a glass of champagne because I need to cool down. He’s outrageously gorgeous. He played opposite Prince Harry’s team. PH’s team was named Sentabale, in honor of the charity he and another prince started to benefit orphaned children suffering from AIDS in Lesotho. Nacho’s team was named Black Watch (or as I like to call it “Team Crazy Caliente”). I didn’t really care which team won, but it was Sentabale who won 6-5 after four abbreviated Chukkers.

Although I didn’t land me a prince (yet), I did pick up an adorable t-shirt that seduced me into buying it for a mere $22.

Tonight I went to see God of Carnage, which is a play staring James Gandolfini (Michael), Marcia Gay Harden (Veronica and Michael’s wife), Hope Davis (Annette), and Jeff Daniels (Alan, husband to Annette). It has gotten rave reviews, including 6 Tony nominations (everyone in the cast was nominated).

The play was outrageously funny, but it took awhile for me to warm up to it. I think I was more distracted by the two guys behind me laughing at every frackin line the first 15 minutes and they weren’t that funny to justify that kind of laughter. It’s a short 90 minute play, sans intermission, and it’s about two sets of New York parents trying to sort out a playground brawl between their two sons (basically one son got a serious beat down). The play A.D.D.ed at times to other subjects which ultimately made it more interesting and hysterical. At times I was doubled over in laughter-the kind where you just can’t speak and are silently laughing because it’s so funny. So, my advice is catch it if you can.

I knew going into it, I was going to celebrity whore it out and wait for them all to come out, take pics and get autographs (got all 4 btw, but for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you which is JD’s or which is JG’s). For those who have never done it or who aren’t from New York basically you wait behind police barricades until they come out of the theater, sign some playbills, and are escorted by security into their SUVs.

FAVORITE post-stage interaction was with JG. I didn’t ask JG the question I was dying to ask, which I’m sure he’s been asked 1,000 times. I don’t think I need to tell you what it was, but for those slow on the uptake, I was DYING to ask him what he thought happened to Tony. Did he or did he not get whacked? Instead I asked him what was in the “Rum” they were drinking on stage. At first he said “nuthin,” and then smiled this killer Tony Soprano smile and then said “ice tea,” which is what I suspected. I can totally see how Tony got the ladies. He falls into my “sexy ugly category.” He’s super charming in person and out of all of the stars, he’s arguably the biggest and he was by FAR the coolest! He posed for pics with people (of course I didn’t ask for one-totally should have). He even hugged and kissed an old lady and was like “hey ma, hope you have a good night.” Then some old lady stood on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. Now if I see Carmela one day, my sighting of the Soprano nuclear family will be complete as I was once at a private birthday party of someone I didn’t know who knew Meadow and A.J. and they were there. Meadow is rail thin and A.J. is on the pequeno side.

JG has lost a lot of weight (still a big guy, but he’s took off some serious poundage). But here’s one thing I noticed, the man has no back fat. I won’t say which actress had it because I’m not willing to throw either one of them under the bus as they’re both thin and sweet, but I could tell one had back fat. It’s not fair, not only do men not have to give birth, but they also don’t get back fat! Death to back fat, I say! You can save Venice, save the whales and save the children all you want, but my goal is to eradicate back fat for women of the world! FU, back fat, FU straight to the bowels of hell!

Moving on to Marcia Gay Harden. She’s is fifty and FABULOUS! I want to look that sexy at 50, hell I want to look that sexy NOW! I’ve been in love with her since she started playing this messed up, but powerful lawyer who plays in the big boy’s league on Damages (highly recommend that show). Anyway, she was the one person not to use an SUV, which I thought was cool because although she lives in New York since Damages is filmed here, the woman still had the option, but instead she wandered off into the New York night.

Hope Davis was also sweet and I had a bit of a conversation with her.

In fact the only person I didn’t have a conversation with was Jeff Daniels, who barely spoke to anyone and could not have looked anymore pissed off to see people. Sadly, the only good pic I got of JG was when he came out the same time as JD. So, JD plays this self important uncaring lawyer who is glued to his cell phone. Ironically, he was my favorite character of the lot, but perhaps that’s because that’s the industry I have lived in for the past 8 years and have seen a lot of “Alans” in my day. However, I must say he was my least favorite off stage. It’s like dude, get out of character and suck up 10 minutes of signing playbills and if you’re still “in character,” then think of it as doing the work that lawyers due, which is push paper. Anyway, I’m posting a picture of him that shows his general demeanor during the signing.

But go see God of Carnage, if you can! Tell Tony M. Madison sent ya. Bada-Bing!

As I am writing this I can barely contain my excitement because a childhood dream of mine was fulfilled as I just saw Sesame Street or El Plaza Sésamo for my Spanish speaking brethren being filmed. Ok, truth be told, being the ham that I am, I’m a former wanna be childhood actor. My plan was to star on Silver Spoons and to marry Ricky Schroder or to meet and marry Kirk Cameron while staring on Growing Pains (I even tried the Pritkin diet for like a day because I read that Kirk did it…don’t judge, these were my 7-11 years and Kirk did marry a co-star eventually). I wanted to be interviewed by Carson to plug my upcoming role in something. At my youngest age, I wanted to be one of the child actors on Sesame Street. I was a twice a day watcher…once in the morning before school and then after school (God only knows how my mom tolerated it, God bless her, because if I try to watch it now I lose my mind, but I’m not a fan of the new characters and my old school guys definitely don’t get enough face time). I wanted to meet Mr. Hooper, I wanted to prove the existence of Snuffaluffagus, I wanted to sit in Big Bird’s nest, and I wanted to chill with Bert and Ernie at their apartment.

So today, I was randomly walking through Madison Square Park when I noticed a film shoot being done and it looked like it was with puppets so I stopped and asked one of the production guys if this was Sesame Street and he said yes. I had no idea who the giant orange furry character was so I asked. Evidently, it was “Murray.” Not a clue who Muray is, but he reminded me of Oscar the Grouch. I asked if he was Oscar’s friend (WTF am I 5? Why do I care?). His reply was, “honestly, I don’t know, I haven’t watched the show in years.” Um, but you shoot it dude, so wouldn’t you know the story line? Here’s Murray’s bio http://www.sesamestreet.org/onair/characters/murray_monster It was funny because one random guy asked me what character we were watching and I said, with all the authority I could muster, “Oh that’s Murray.” He said, “I thought I heard some guy say his name is Furry.” I said, “well he’s definitely furry, but no, his name is Murray.” Dear God, am I really having his conversation sober? BTW, Murray was teaching kids how to count to 10.

I asked another guy if I could take a picture of his badge and told him “none of my friends will believe I just saw Sesame Street being filmed. He said, “well we’re not supposed to but sure.” See badge below. I asked again about Murray and he said that he didn’t know anything about it. I told him that if they were filming Bert and Ernie that he would physically have to restrain me from running up to them. Ernie was always my favorite. He laughed and agreed that they are classic characters. Um, yeah! He told me they were shooting Elmo a few days ago and that it was pure pandamonium. I told him that I hated Elmo and he said “Elmo is not of our generation.” Um, no he’s not. I find the new characters annoying (I mean not like I watch it on a regular basis, but I have caught an episode or two here and there over the years), but then again I must remind myself that this isn’t the early 80s and I probably wouldn’t be able to watch a full hour of Sesame Street anymore without downing half a bottle of wine and I’m quite sure that the Children’s Television Workshop wouldn’t promote that kind of behavior.

So, after all the TV/movie shoots I’ve seen while living in New York (I Am Legend, Fringe, Sex and the City, Law and Order, Ghosts of Girlfriends Pasts, ok, technically in Boston, just to name a few), this was by far the one that tops them all! Oh, and I was probably the only adult without un bebe in a stroller or whose enfant was part of the filming that was watching the shoot. Maybe I missed an opportunity to check out the single dads? Who knows. Anyway, I give you furry Murray!

A good friend of mine whom I greatly admire invited me to attend a breakfast and become involved with The New York Women’s Foundation, which raises money (sans the help of endowments) and then donates it to various non-profits within NYC whose aims are to help economically disadvantaged women. Please go to http://www.nywf.org for more 411. To say that I was humbled to be part of it is an understatement and I was brought to tears by one woman’s inspiring story and fought back tears on another’s. However, as one of the guests would later quote Golda Meir in referring to feeling humbled who once said, “Don’t be humble…you’re not that great.” Well alrighty then, I won’t be!

The guest list was full of heavy hitters. Speaker Quinn (I met her once when I randomly stumbled upon Hillary Clinton the night before she gave her concession speech). I saw Quinn and I was all, “Hi Christine” and shook her hand like we were BFFs. It’s ironic that I was star struck by Hil and Quinn because my J.Crew/Vineyard Vines wearing self ain’t exactly one of the converted (but this also happened when I met Al Gore, who I can’t stand, yet I was coo coo for Cocoa Puffs over it at the time. I’m not proud of my whorish political ways). Mayor Bloomberg was there (I’ve seen him before and he gave a boring speech), so was Governor Patterson (excellent speaker), Grace Hightower De Niro (as in Robert’s wife), Lilly Ledbetter, Swanee Hunt, Helen Hunt’s sister and former Ambassador to Austria, and last but not least Queen Latifa. NY1 was there to cover the event and when I mentioned that I LOVE NY1, my friend said “we’re going to get you interviewed,” but they left halfway through. How can NY1 NOT stay for Queen Latifa’s speech? LOVE her, btw.

Highlights:

Queen Latifa stated “for those of you who don’t know me, I used to rap and on occasion I still spit the hotness.” My new goal in life is to try to work “spit the hotness” into casual conversation. She pledged to donate $10k if she got to keep this awesome walking stick (pictured here with it) and she said “I’m going to take it and part the River.” Side bar re: the Moses Red Sea reference, having grown up as a Southern Baptist, I’m used to people shouting out randomly at church and I often found myself going all SB. I was all “Amen sister, I know that’s right,” and things of that nature. Like especially when Angelique Kidjo, a Tanzanian performer, who before singing a beautiful song in Swahili, stated “we need to raise men differently,” I was all “that’s right sister, you tell it girl.” I mean, WTF? Where did that come from? She also stated “you can’t help the world if you don’t first help your own city.” Holla! We need to volunteer in the NYC hizzy people.

Swanee Hunt spoke with a charm that is unique to Texans. The woman who introduced her was a riot. When describing Swanee, she stated that there’s no good slang for women and we have to take it back. She stated that no one says “look at the pair of ovaries or fallopian tubes on her.” So she chose to introduce Swanee, no joke, by stating that “Swanee had a great set of jewels, cojones, stones, balls, she’s got giant golden balls.” That’s one hell of an introduction and when Governor Patterson spoke immediately after her he joked that he “wasn’t sure he had the ovaries or the fallopian tube to follow her act.” Swanee wrote a book called “This Was Not Our War Bosnian Women Reclaiming the Peace,” which I bought and had her autograph. She’s an amazing speaker and she made the point about how we can make a small difference by donating small amounts of money. For example, $150 can provide an education to a girl in Liberia or $12 can provide three pairs of socks for people in a homeless shelter, makes you think about how much of a difference you can make by skipping a few venti lattes (good for the waist line too).

Lilly Ledbetter, was a woman who was instrumental in getting a Fair Pay Act instituted. She said, “if you ever told me I’d be traveling the world, telling my life story in front of the Supreme Court and at the White House getting the Fair Pay Act signed I would’ve told you that someone let the air out of your tires.” Love that expression and it made me think about how the persistence of one woman can change the country and it also inspired me to do more than I am now.

Lastly there were heartbreaking, but inspiring testimonials by those whose lives were transformed. One was by a former prostitute who was nearly beaten to death by her John and left for dead, I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but her story made me weep. She got hooked up with an organization called GEMS (Girl’s Educational and Mentoring Services) and graduated as the Valedictorian of her class and is pursuing a college education (you know the SB in me was dying to yell “Praise Jesus,” but I refrained). The second misty water colored story involved a battered woman who was a former drug addict and ex-con who has now graduated with a BA in criminal forensic psychology and is pursuing her masters. She stated, “This organization saw something in me that I didn’t see myself. I am no longer a failure. I am no longer a victim in society, I’m part of the solution.” Wow! Standing Ovation!

I left there feeling inspired and my spirit of activism was renewed. I hope yours will be too and that you will consider making a donation to NYWF or consider getting involved in some other organization and spit the hotness all over New York City! Don’t you go letting the air out of my tires now! You hear!

I had a picture perfect ending to my trip to Africa.  I spent the morning wandering around the waterfront and took some time to bask in the sun to soak up the last African rays so as to come back with a lovely warm African glow while listening to my favorite Zulu band.  Ok, I say favorite Zulu band like I know more than one, but it’s a group of 10-12 men dressed in matching gold shirts, black pants and sneakers that play at the Waterfront.  They even have choreographed moves.  They’re cute and I bought one of their CDs.

 

 

 

I later wandered over to my friend’s university to rendez-vous with her so we could drive out to Bloubergstrand beach to catch the picture perfect postcard view of Table Mountain.  It was a view that came highly recommended by Uncle Neil.  The view was breathtaking.  It was a clear, sunny day and the water was a mixture of dark blues and crystal clear greens.  The sand was of course soft and definitely worthy of a siesta.  BTW, I first termed uber comfy sand “nap worthy” after unexpectedly falling asleep on the beach in Punta del Este, Uruguay.  One of the best unexpected naps ever, perhaps second only to the time I took a siesta in a park in Pamplona during the Running of the Bulls when I was 17.  Anyway, we watched the kite surfers ride the waves with Table Mountain in the background.  We posed for pictures and generally just enjoyed the moment of being there.

 

 

 

We made out way to a “Sundowners” being hosted by another friend who lived in a sick apartment in Clifton Beach. Sundowners from what I gathered were frequent cocktail parties to watch the sunset over the Atlantic. Camps Bay and Clifton Beach are the 2 poshest areas in Cape Town and it’s where all the celebs hang out.  There’s a famous place called Caprice on Camps Bay where Leo, Prince Harry, and Robbie Williams have been spotted (I learned that little tidbit from my hop on/hop off tour-seriously, I could now be a Cape Town tour guide).  Speaking of celebs Matt Damon and Morgan Freeman were in town filming a movie and evidently Matt was at dinner near a restaurant we were at.  After getting sufficiently acuna matatad (i.e., buzzed to the point of not caring about a thing a la Pumba style) at Sundowners, we proceeded to drink more at dinner, including a bottle of bali and more wine.  So needless to say I was in full force party mode by the time we hit this club called Jade and proceeded to drink even more, including a tequila based drink that some cute SA guy named Colin invented.  It tasted yummy and non-tequila-ey so I ordered one and named it…wait for it…”The Colin.” I can be so original!  As previously mentioned in another post, I HATE tequila and can smell it a mile away on any OTHER given night.  This should’ve been clue numero uno that when I can no longer taste nor smell tequila in a drink, I’m going to be in for a rough morning.  I had a blast at the club even if it was full of “peacocks” as a new South African friend kept calling everyone.  I loved her and wished she lived in New York.  I “may” have been dancing and chatting with rando strangers at the club.  We can thank Senor Tequila and The Colin for my South African debut as the Dancing Queen (too bad I’m no longer young and sweet and only 17).

Thank God someone had the wherewithal to call it a night at around 1:00 a.m.  I woke up in the morning wanting to cancel my flight!  I knew if I didn’t leave on Saturday then there was no way I was making it to work on Monday, what with 28 hours door to door travel time and all. It was very touch and go there for a bit and at times I wasn’t even able to speak to my host (damn you Champagne and damn you Colin and your devilish elixir).  Luckily, I forced myself to eat breakfast and grabbed a fruit infused smoothy and slept on the plane from Cape Town to Johburg (unfortunately, my cab driver was “chatty” on the way to the airport…I’m convinced God was punishing me for my sins).  

Although I was sad to leave, especially since the weather was gorgeous the last few days I was there, there were things I missed about home…ok, mainly Mexican food.  But after two and a half weeks on holiday, dozens of bottles of wine later, loads of unusual food, it’s probably just as well that I had to leave. 

Thank you Africa for a trip of a lifetime and a dream solo honeymoon.  A girl couldn’t ask for anything more!   I’ll be back!  Next on the list are Malawi, Mozambique, Namibia and Botswana.  Now I’m off to find that rich husband who can work remotely as we circumnavigate the globe.  I would rather appreciate it if he finally revealed himself sooner rather than later, but I’ll start working on the travel itinerary now because that’s the kind of thoughtful future wife I am.