Someone besides my parents thinks that I'm a disappointment

I waited out to hear from other literary agents before I signed the contract I was offered. I got my final rejection yesterday from an agent who sells humor. She said that the chapter I sent her was a disappointment. She probably wants me to go to teachers college, like my parents keep nagging me to do.

I guess I'll let that one agency that likes me know that I'll be signing on.

I just don't want to wait tables anymore.

Your chore list.

I'm grounded until the third week of July. Then I'm going to the beach. These are your chores in the meantime:

1. RSVP to Melissa Hot Sauce Debut on July 11th at 58.

2. Book me after July.

3. Look forward to my 2009 calendar, perhaps even pre-order one.

4. Be my intern.

5. Give me a ride to the beach.

Thanks!

Sometimes my blogs are really obnoxious.

About that grant I want...

So I went to the grant writing workshop last night, and I was told that no one has won an interdisciplinary performance fellowship in 6 years. Part of this must come from the confusion about what exactly interdisciplinary performance is, partly because there weren't enough applicants in past years so all applications have rolled over, and partly because NJ artists are out of their minds (in a bland way), but regardless, I must change the format of the Melissa Hot Sauce show on the 11th.

Think of the show on the 11th as a sneak peek at Melissa Hot Sauce, and you will be one of those privileged few witnesses, and also, you get to be a part of the video taping! Plus, I'm giving everyone shots of my home-made infused vodka at the start of the show. I swear it's not poison.

Originally, I was going to run the entire 35 minutes of the multi-media one woman show, but instead I'll just be focusing on the parts of the show where I interact with media. There will still be a video intro, dancing and singing, and Kerri Pussy Knife, but I'm doing this show for the sake of the fellowship application, so there might be some retakes and stuff, so the video looks really good when I send it in.

I'll have a full run of Melissa Hot Sauce in the fall or winter. I might wait until I get the results of the awards so that I can put more money into it and make it really spectacular. Unfortunately, that won't be until January.

Wish me luck.

Dog vomit and other rejections

There's dried dog vomit all around my computer desk. This is how I work. Dirty is a puker, and he likes to puke around my desk. Maybe that's just how he feels about my writing.

In other vomit, I answered a call for art for a new show at LITM. I was going to hang my big mounted poster that Doug took, but apparently, it's too angry for a restaurant, and LITM hates panties or something.

I might send smaller images, but pretty much I'm in panties in every picture that I have of myself.

Tonight I'm going to a grant writing workshop for my fellowship application. Maybe they'll sophisticate me yet! Give me pants, NJ! I took off of my goddamn job for this.

What else? Oh, I got my a new schedule at my job, which means I'll be making more money, but I'll won't be able to go out at night. Not like it matters. I've grounded myself until Melissa Hot Sauce is done. Except that I'm going to see Art House's Sea Story this weekend.

Dirty and Rustin aren't on speaking terms.

My boyfriend and my dog are not on speaking terms with each other at the moment.

It all started yesterday while I was at work. Rustin went to do the laundry, and Dirty got into the garbage again. So Rustin banished Dirty to the bathroom while he went to get the clothes. While Dirty was in the bathroom, he ate a bunch of moisturizing lotion and a box of tampons. Now his head is all greasy, and Rustin is very angry.

Dirty is such a dirty dog.

Thanks, BabyHole, you're the bestest!

Thanks to everyone for coming to BabyHole's season finale on Tuesday. God certainly did not want us there, and he sent a major heat wave followed by a thunderstorm with hail and mini tornadoes. Typical omnipotent man.

Toy Eaters had two air conditioners, two industrial fans, and two window fans, but it was still about 90 degrees inside, much cooler than I thought it would be. I tried to salvage the crowd with a last minute scheme of making it a bathing suit party, but no one wore a bathing suit but me. I was going to bring a kiddie pool, but I feared that people would just get electrocuted by it or the floor would cave in.

Regardless, I was such a lucky girl, because two of my favorite bands, The House of Leaves and The Meltdowns, and one of my favorite comedy people, Diane O'Debra, were there to help us party. All of the open mikers that night gave their best performances of the season. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have a show, and I hope that next season I can continue to provide them with one of the best open mic audiences in the metropolitan area.

Afterwards, I stopped by The Lamp Post and Lucky 7, where people bought me drinks and gave me accolades. I woke up the next day with a wicked PBR and cheap vodka hangover, and wasn't functional until the mid afternoon. But it was worth it.

My next project is Melissa Hot Sauce, my multi-media one-woman show next month. It's invitation only, so if you want to be invited, you have to email me. I got the idea for the title when I was eating a falafel with extra hot sauce. I love hot sauce.

We already started shooting the video. Next week we're recording the music. Kayt Hester Lent is doing the set. Kerri Pussy Knife will make an appearance, too. It's for my NJSCA Fellowship application. I really hope I get it. I don't want to work for drunk people anymore.

Then, after that's over on July 15th, I'll start working on the 2009 calendar. This year it'll be done by November, I swear!

Literary Agency

So a literary agency wants to represent my manuscript. Weird. I was expecting rejection.

If you are on JC List, please do not talk to me.

This is the third post about my crappy job, but I just want to make it clear that I think that JC List is for losers, and if you come to my job and introduce yourself to me as Some Stupid Name from JC List, I won't care.

People spend too much time on that nonsense. And besides, JC List banned me.

BabyHole Summertime Hiatus Blow Out

It's the last BabyHole of the season!

Say goodbye to me this Tuesday. I get very cranky in the summer time, and I'll be hiding so that no one can see my peeling, orange skin, greasy face, and hoof-like feet. *

"BabyHole Summertime Hiatus Blow Out"
Tuesday, June 10th, doors @ 8 pm, $5 suggested donation

This is the last show until September and it's gonna be HOT! So dress skimpily. No seriously, there's like no air in there. There's more rock and roll than comedy tonight because we want to party hard. But there's still 6 slots of open mic by lottery.

Featuring:
Diane O'Debra
The Meltdowns
The House of Leaves

Toy Eaters Studio
2nd Floor
143 Christopher Columbus Drive
Jersey City, NJ

One block from the Grove Street PATH Station. BYO OK.


*Unless I get my one-woman multi-media show together in the next month. Then I won't shut up about it. I'm still scrambling to confirm dates.

Why do I have to smile?

I've worked as a waitress and bartender for a few years now, and it always angers me when customers demand that I smile at them. Why do they care if I'm smiling as long as I give them their food and booze on time? What's so wrong with a snarl here or there?

I hate it even more when my waiter or bartender gives me a fake smile. It makes me feel like they hate me and are about to spit in my food.

A day at work with my drunk bosses.

When I went in to open the restaurant on Sunday morning for brunch, I saw both of my bosses crusty eyed, disheveled and hungover, still slurring their words.

Usually, I only see one of them like that, but as I learned from the chef, they'd both passed out on the bar the night before, and spent the night. When the porter came in that morning, he cleaned around them. I found out that finding them in the morning, either still drinking, or just waking up hungover, is a normal occurrence.

As soon as I set up the bar, they started making themselves double mimosas with vodka in them, and sat outside. They proceeded to talk about how great they were for the next 9 hours. They spoke very loudly on the patio and chain smoked. I prayed that they wouldn't talk to my customers, but they did anyway.

One of them went on for almost a half an hour to a table on a date about how we brew our own iced tea. I've never worked at a restaurant that didn't brew its own iced tea, and it's only Lipton, but she seems to think very highly of this, and wouldn't shut up. "Bark! Bark! Grumble! Bark!" is what she sounds like when she talks.

They drank up all the champagne and juice that I'd stocked for brunch within an hour or two of opening. I refused to restock it for them, so they had to do it themselves. I think we got through almost an entire case of champagne that day. I hope they left some for the paying customers.

When I was behind the bar, making drinks for customers, and the owner wanted one, he would come behind the bar, make me stop what I was doing, and sloppily make his own drinks, spending three times as long as he should, while his paying customers got bad service.

When the boss that was supposed to be managing fell asleep on the patio in front of the customers, I was glad that the night manager had come in early, and told him about it. We both tried our hardest to call cabs for them and get them home, but they thwarted every attempt and continued to sabotage their own business for the next 4 hours or so.

I thought he'd stopped drinking because we'd run out of champagne. But after the foam that I'd poured from the taps into the pitchers went missing, and I saw a glass of a strangely colored and textured brew, I knew that he'd stolen the garbage beer.

They finally left around 7 pm. Throughout the entire 9 hours, calling themselves workaholics because they'd just spent 24 hours straight in the bar, which they own, "managing," they never ordered any food. Just liquid breakfast, lunch, and dinner.