Which I thought is a way all people thought. It's not. And for those of you that don't think that way, no biggie. I also think pants with zippers are too constraining for the female body, obviously my opinion is not 100% full proof.
Side note: This dude next to me is legit reading this as I type it on my iPhone, but I'm too much of a pussy to look up and see if he's hot. See, no one's perfect.
Any who, my "spontaneity" is not exactly a good thing. It usually leads to some of the most embarrassing moments of my life, which yes, lead to hilarious stories, but as of recently led to my recent bout of mental breakdowns.
One of which I had a few nights ago, sobbing to my mother at 2 a.m. in the morning.
Which led me to cry on the subway on the way to a writing interview, get my shit together in front of a pizza cart in little Italy, interview, cry on the way to pick up the boys I nanny after the interview, buy three cookies that looked like iPads, shove an iPad cookie into my sobbing mouth outside the boy's school, pick up the boys, give them the cookies, make terrible puns about said iPad cookies, drop off the boys, then randomly decide to go to Brooklyn on a whim by myself, to a thing called "That's What She Said," featuring 4 female comedic authors, including Rachel Dratch.
And it was the best decision of my life.
I grabbed a beer, sat down, and had a green energy journalist start talking to me about green energy. I was a little confused. So was she.
"Wait, are you a journalist, too?"
"Well yeah. (Lie.) But I' m here to see Rachel Dratch. (Truth)."
"Oh."
Turns out she was in the wrong room, and I was glad she left. I wasn't here to make friends. If that was the case I would have ordered a PBR from the hipster-douche bartender who I'm reluctant to say was ridiculously hot.
I needed a sign to tell me I had made the right choice. That I was here in New York City for a reason. I needed a reason to let go.
Here it was.
They said everything I needed to hear and I was so sure of the fact that they were going to say everything that I needed to hear that I recorded it, all 67 minutes of it.
I sat in complete awe of these writers listening to them joke and laugh about how brutal honesty of every embarrassing moment in your life is the only way to relate to people. How an original voice is so hard to find within writing these days, that if you can do that, you've already won half the battle.
After the show I bought Rachel's book and had her sign it, all whilst telling her, "Her stint on SNL made me the person I am today."
Embarrassing, but true. I was fat and painfully shy as a child. I didn't go out. My life panned out in front of a TV schedule that played six episodes of SNL a day. It was heaven.
On the way home, I felt a little guilty about spending money, seeing as I was planning to get schwasted this weekend I was trying to save, but my mother had told me yesterday to go buy a pair of shoes to make myself feel better, WHICH I almost did in Bloomingdale's. I almost bought a pair of hot pink Bandalino's that were over 200 dollars. I know I'm not like most girls, but shoes do make me happy too.
When I returned home I found a check in the mail for me that was literally the amount that the beers and the book had cost.
Coincidence?
Absolutely-fucking-not.