- 1 Umami Burger server
- $500 Valentine's Day menu (per person)
- "The three baddest horn section in Brooklyn", an Elton John-type songwriter, Maxway/Roses Wholesale Clothes, and making more money than your parents
- 7 phone numbers given out + 5 first dates in 3 months
- 1 search for a paczki
Instructions
1. Your Umami Burger server must be: the newest arrival at your friends' brunch get-together, a fellow actor and Astorian a few years older than you, and of the type that, upon seeing his face, you know you "know" each other. After twenty minutes of painstaking "do you know...? have you been to...?", look on Facebook for mutual friends and instead find that he is an Umami Burger server-- and that he therefore served you on your first ever Hinge date. You remember because he made such a friendly impression! He remembers because you requested to have no wasabi on the burger that clearly "needs" wasabi, so they left it on.
2. You can find cheaper options for Valentine's Day, but I highly suggest Atera, which costs more than Masa, America's "priciest restaurant." Why be cheap, with such crapola restaurants like Jean George, Eleven Madison, or Masa at costs of $258- $450/person, on a day primarily symbolized by plastic heart-shaped products sold at CVS?
3. When you have the idea to look online for freelance writer gigs, smartly delve into Craigslist. Next, and most key, accidentally forget to clarify "writer gigs" and instead search "all gigs." Locate the title "wheres the three baddest horn section in brooklyn!!!!!" and make sure they're looking for someone who "SHOWS SHOWMANSHIP AND DISCIPLINE AT TIMES....LOL (GOTTA HAVE A LIL FUN RIGHT?)". Search deeply for an "Elton John-type songwriter looking for his Bernie Taupin", specifically the one who clarifies, so necessarily: "Okay, so I'm not Elton John in the sense that I sing, but I do play piano and write songs that other people sing." Score gloriously when you see "ASAP $2 per photo of Maxway/ Roses Wholesale Clothes," in which all you have to do is take photos-- or samples-- of women's bottoms, particularly leggings, in Roses Wholesale Stores and Maxway Stores, but lose greatly when you learn the submission maximum is ten. Last but not least, to out-do your parents, read the words you've always wanted to hear:
4. You must start dating, experience dating, and decided to end dating within 3 months. These phone numbers must be given out via any dating app/site. (No, at the end of the day, Hinge is sadly not much better than other dating apps/sites, because it is one.) These dates should be difficult to juggle. You should feel overwhelmed. You should put fun plans and important work aside to fit them into your schedule. You should learn that perhaps you shouldn't let on so easily how little money you have on the first date. You should decide that you don't f-ing care. You should come to the conclusion that you are spending too much time thinking about these potential dates that you don't even know, may not even like, and, with the current track record of such finance/business guys, will not want to see again. You should look forward to the final trickle-off of said dates, and hope that none of them ever text you again. You should celebrate your freedom from feeling that dating and going out is a necessary, integral part of your 20's. You should take advantage of the new time not spent using that app/texting a "match"/thinking about that date/going out for drinks and focus on your career, which is why you are in this goshforsaken city in the first place! You should finally admit to yourself that you are an old fashioned romantic traditionalist who likes quiet evenings at home, a bedtime, and her twin-sized bed because dammit it was cheaper and you have so much floor space for yoga.
5. You must know what a paczki is. That is essential. You are a rare special human if you possess this ability. If you are Polish, you should know, or else. You should surround your Fat Tuesday, aka Paczki Day, with asking every person you see whether or not they know what a paczki is. You should express utter shock and disgust with the limited responses you elicit. You should spread the knowledge, love, joy, and beauty of pazkis with as many people as possible, and not feel ashamed at all when they find out that for real it's just a donut. You should spend so much time and energy into finding a paczki in NYC for Fat Tuesday and so much time building up the hype to everyone you have informed about it that you forget that the last time you had a paczki was... too long ago to remember. And that you cannot remember the last donut you ate, either. And that you shouldn't eat fried food because of what it and your severe acid reflux do to your stomach. Yet, when you find that one bakery open at 9pm in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, the only Polish community in NYC, you should devour that sweet, sweet 'nut in one bite.
... So... now what? By now, you're used to recipes with ingredients and instructions that have at least something to do with each other. These are almost completely random. Actually, they're completely random. I did that on purpose, because that's how I'm feeling right now: arbitrary. (And not in a bad way.)
"Life is weird." This was a line in a recent audition of mine, and it was the truest, most natural thing I said and felt in the entire scene. Life is SO weird! How, the morning after a waste of time first date (with a Hinge-ite who called me a "Broadway Queen") on Valentine's Day, did I end up agreeing to walk 20 minutes on one of the coldest days yet this winter to my friend's apartment in Astoria for brunch, where a friend and I bonded voraciously over our trials of the seductive mind-trap that is Hinge and shared our stories with the group for far too long, only to be met by a new brunch acquaintance that I was told I would not know but actually did recognize because, thanks to knowledge from Facebook, I remembered he was my server on my first Hinge date ever! FULL CIRCLE BRUNCH!
Life is weird because, after taking Burberry and Hugo Boss dress coats and seating their owners at white-clothed banquets for two in a gorgeous Michelin Star-rated dining room accompanied by a live romantic jazz pianist and violets for their $199 6-course tasting menu, I wake up to these Facebook photos from my father, step-mom, and their 2 best friends:
I signed up to be a "mentor" (ha!) for one of this year's Northwestern NY Acting Showcase participants and she recently asked what I liked/didn't like about living in NYC as an actor. I'd been preparing myself to censor what I wrote in my email, expecting it to be too harsh or hateful. Instead, I shocked myself. I struggled to find a reason why I disliked NYC except for the fact that it is cold, ugly, and dirty, simply because I like warmth, nature, and cleanliness. I've finally accepted NYC for what it is. We have a strong love/hate/need relationship. I've finally accepted that I don't want to be a "typical" social single in her 20's, whatever that is even supposed to mean. Me and myself are working on a strong love/love relationship. I've accepted that call girls and escorts do exist, because I saw those Craigslist ads and my maitre'd points real ones out at the restaurant. I shall never pursue any such relationship, even though it does sound like a great financial move. I have not accepted that most people don't know what a paczki is. That is ludicrous. I will work and I will fight and I will dedicate my life to spreading the love and joy of Polish dough until everyone on this blessed earth covers their Fat Tuesday in powdered sugar.
Life is weird, because you are weird. And you, and you and you and you and you. Deal with it.
"it sucks beeing poor, you dont have to tell me I grew up with nothing and spent most of my life working like a slave for just enough money to pay the bills.Because when I have nothing-- absolutely nothing-- going for me, the only possible motivation is knowing I could make more money than my parents. And the hope that I might be hot.
If you are hot you dont have to do that. "
4. You must start dating, experience dating, and decided to end dating within 3 months. These phone numbers must be given out via any dating app/site. (No, at the end of the day, Hinge is sadly not much better than other dating apps/sites, because it is one.) These dates should be difficult to juggle. You should feel overwhelmed. You should put fun plans and important work aside to fit them into your schedule. You should learn that perhaps you shouldn't let on so easily how little money you have on the first date. You should decide that you don't f-ing care. You should come to the conclusion that you are spending too much time thinking about these potential dates that you don't even know, may not even like, and, with the current track record of such finance/business guys, will not want to see again. You should look forward to the final trickle-off of said dates, and hope that none of them ever text you again. You should celebrate your freedom from feeling that dating and going out is a necessary, integral part of your 20's. You should take advantage of the new time not spent using that app/texting a "match"/thinking about that date/going out for drinks and focus on your career, which is why you are in this goshforsaken city in the first place! You should finally admit to yourself that you are an old fashioned romantic traditionalist who likes quiet evenings at home, a bedtime, and her twin-sized bed because dammit it was cheaper and you have so much floor space for yoga.
5. You must know what a paczki is. That is essential. You are a rare special human if you possess this ability. If you are Polish, you should know, or else. You should surround your Fat Tuesday, aka Paczki Day, with asking every person you see whether or not they know what a paczki is. You should express utter shock and disgust with the limited responses you elicit. You should spread the knowledge, love, joy, and beauty of pazkis with as many people as possible, and not feel ashamed at all when they find out that for real it's just a donut. You should spend so much time and energy into finding a paczki in NYC for Fat Tuesday and so much time building up the hype to everyone you have informed about it that you forget that the last time you had a paczki was... too long ago to remember. And that you cannot remember the last donut you ate, either. And that you shouldn't eat fried food because of what it and your severe acid reflux do to your stomach. Yet, when you find that one bakery open at 9pm in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, the only Polish community in NYC, you should devour that sweet, sweet 'nut in one bite.
... So... now what? By now, you're used to recipes with ingredients and instructions that have at least something to do with each other. These are almost completely random. Actually, they're completely random. I did that on purpose, because that's how I'm feeling right now: arbitrary. (And not in a bad way.)
"Life is weird." This was a line in a recent audition of mine, and it was the truest, most natural thing I said and felt in the entire scene. Life is SO weird! How, the morning after a waste of time first date (with a Hinge-ite who called me a "Broadway Queen") on Valentine's Day, did I end up agreeing to walk 20 minutes on one of the coldest days yet this winter to my friend's apartment in Astoria for brunch, where a friend and I bonded voraciously over our trials of the seductive mind-trap that is Hinge and shared our stories with the group for far too long, only to be met by a new brunch acquaintance that I was told I would not know but actually did recognize because, thanks to knowledge from Facebook, I remembered he was my server on my first Hinge date ever! FULL CIRCLE BRUNCH!
Life is weird because, after taking Burberry and Hugo Boss dress coats and seating their owners at white-clothed banquets for two in a gorgeous Michelin Star-rated dining room accompanied by a live romantic jazz pianist and violets for their $199 6-course tasting menu, I wake up to these Facebook photos from my father, step-mom, and their 2 best friends:
One photo had the caption, "steak and lobster tail on bone china... who could ask for more." Who could ask for more?
Life is weird because THIS happens in my hometown and NO ONE knows about it:
Honestly, I wish I could've found less photos that I felt I needed to include here, but that's how the Paczki Ball rolls. Every year at the same time (though sometimes I wonder if it's actually all year long), this billboard pops up in Lorain County, Ohio:
"The Original Paczki of Northeast Ohio: Kiedrowski's have been selling the Best Paczki in America for over 30 Years." "Kiedrowskis's Only Sell Old World Traditional Polish Flavors According to Grandma Kiedrowski." "We play Polka Music to our Paczki to Give them a made in America to Poland taste." Polish Catholics, or, as I still sometimes naively think, all Christians everywhere, eat paczkis on Fat Tuesday, the day before Lent. They're glorified donuts, but with cool filling flavors and cultural meaning. My first year beyond Northeast Ohio, I was mortified and offended when no one at my college in Chicago knew what a paczki was-- Chicago is the largest population of Polish people outside of Warsaw, for goodness' sake! By Lent, I was so emotionally disrupted that at one point, upon entering my room and seeing my suitemate's Polish-speaking Polish boyfriend, I immediately shouted "PACZKI!" at him, hoping to finally receive some understanding. Instead, he was merely confused at why I'd shouted "donut" at him. 6 years out of Ohio and I still have no relief.
The Paczki Ball is thrown by Kiedrowski's ever year: "Polkas! Party! Paczki!" The even is held right before Fat Tuesday, is "family friendly" and BYOB, includes a buffet dinner of sausage and sauerkraut, cabbage and noodles, potato and cheese pierogies, green beans with bacon, and ALL OF THE PACZKIS YOU CAN EAT. Not to mention the Presentation of the Paczki by those half-naked men and women and the crowning of the Paczki King and Queen.
Life is weird because I have new stupid, maddening, exciting, stressful, weird experiences every day. Because when I leave work at midnight, emerging from a hotel basement and breathing in a breath of "fresh" air, I get to walk down an eerily empty 5th Avenue and look up at the majestic columns and lions of the NYPL Main Branch and a few key skyscrapers that surround this refreshing clearing in the heart of the city, and feel a mix of shock and pride that I actually made it here. Because each night when I take the 7 train into Queens and descend the steps to Queens Boulevard, I see a lit skyline of Manhattan in the near distance, congratulating me on staying alive another day. Because of that fact that I do this every day-- that I recently end each day with a dramatic yet honest inner monologue, reflecting on my disbelief that I made it through that day and that, even though the weird stuff that day happened and that there are so many weirder things about to happen the next day, at that moment the city takes a breath, I take a breath, and we rest.
Life is weird, because you are weird. And you, and you and you and you and you. Deal with it.
