Solicitation

So, I fliered my neighborhood today with the JC Friday fliers I got last night. I even put some at the bank, because I thought it would be funny, and I need a richer audience.

The Melissa race is ON!

I'm going to apply for a fellowship from the NJ State Council on the Arts this year. Do you know what this means? It means I need to get my multi-media one-woman show together in less than a month in order to qualify. Have I started working on it? No. I came up with this scheme yesterday. Now I have 6 weeks to show.

Will I succeed or fail miserably?

If it ever strikes your fancy to pickle your own vegetables, don't.

I have a five pound bag of carrots. I've made carrot pudding, spicy carrot soup, used it in salads and dinners, and I've even tried to pickle them.

DO NOT EVER TRY TO PICKLE YOUR OWN VEGETABLES AT HOME. They taste disgusting. Patooey!

I got the original recipe from a vegan website. I think that vegans don't know any better because they don't know how to eat food.

I also threw in some tomatoes and celery in because they were starting to rot. Maybe I am just a terrible pickler.

I still have two pounds left. I guess I will barbecue carrots tonight.

The next time you see me, you'll sneer, "Hi, orange Melissa. Nice carrots."

Death by chocolate: fantasy come true, or just death?

So Dirty Dog OD'd on chocolate brownies Monday night while we were sleeping. I rushed him to the vet when he walked in zig zags and bumped into things. This is his update:

-He is still a little disoriented when he runs. Try to chase him! You will win this time.

-He is pooing charcoal. Barbecue, anyone?

-I tried to give him his meds. After 45 minutes, most of it was on the ceiling and in my hair. I tried some Dog Whisperer tricks, but I don't think they work unless you're Satan. By the way, I think that Cesar Milan is Satan.

-I have no money at all. I spent everything and my tax refunds ($6) on his chocolate poisoning.

-I am jealous of his chocolate poisoning.

I wish that I could OD on brownies, but that's just for the dogs!

Bloggin' on JC List

There's some sad, lonely people in this town.

I heard there was a lot of activity on JC List about the bar I work in.

I read the thread, and people get so passionate about it, it makes me want to buy them TV's or something. One person that I served immediately wrote 6 paragraphs of blog about his dining experience as soon as he got home.

I hope that when I grow up, I don't spend all my time blogging.

Draft of "A Glamorous Night of Hilarity" flier

This is the draft of "A Glamorous Night of Hilarity's" flier. I made it with my hand. I think it suits a grass roots Art Festival, which is what JC Friday, and all Jersey City shows, is (or are? My grammar is deteriorating. Someone give me a proofing job now!). Brooke Van Poppelen and I are producing this new show of cool, tattooed hilarious chicks. We're trying it out on JC Friday. Leibya Rogers is hosting.

Congratulations, BabyHole!

Thanks to everyone who came out to BabyHole Vs. Poetic Voices Superiority Contest. It was a really great show, nothing like the abortion that we were worried about. For once we can say that people would rather go to BH VS PV than chug semen from a wine skin.

And the winner of the BabyHole Vs. Poetic Voices Superiority Contest is...

BABYHOLE!
BABYHOLE!
BABYHOLE!

It was a narrow victory, but BabyHole won with 199 points, while Poetic Voices gained 191.5 points. Go, BabyHole, go!

Highlights of the night include:

My outfit. I wore wrestling shoes, tube socks, bright blue little sports shorts, a red wife beater that said, "Poetry is for homeless people," American Flag sweatbands, and had black football grease paint under my eyes. I raced on stage with a stroller full of baby dolls and did an aerobic routine while shouting "BabyHole! I'm working out my BabyHole!"

The Roland Ramos Band opening the show with psychedelic reggae rock.

After the first three poets did poems about not getting laid, Judge Rustin commented, "If the next poetry contestant does a poem about not getting laid, I'm going to give them all 10 points." (Also, an audience member commented to me, "There's some sad lonely guys in this town.")

Max Michael's angst ridden song, "I think I have AIDS I came on your dad," while wearing a white-beater that said, "Poetry gave me AIDS."

When one of the poet's poems was about how a girl dumped him for a guy who used her and abused her, Judge Cooter and Judge Jesse high-fived each other and said, "We totally did that!"

Some surprises about the show: The crowd was mostly a poetry crowd. The BabyHole crowd always shows up an hour late because they are fashionable slackers. That meant the poetry got the seats, and if you've ever seen a poetry crowd, you'd know that they were weirdos, and on top of that, they didn't donate any money for the show, so even though it was packed, everyone lost money.

Oh well, next time.