I Need That Special Delivery

(Yall know the above was the CUT! )

This next story I am dedicating to one of my best friends in the world. When you are blessed to find good people like Richelle you hold on to them. Since 8th grade we have been through everything together. She is one of the strongest and realist people I have ever met and I know my life would not be the same if she was not in it (we are not gay LOL, why do people always feel the need to say that?) I so killed my loving statement by adding that. Oh wells!

In a sense you can say I attended 2 high schools. I went to Roosevelt for a few periods, but the majority of my day was spent at Central Campus. This school was basically for students who knew what they wanted to pursue in college and allowed us to get college credit while beginning our majors early. I took Radio TV and Film.

Roosevelt was down the street from Central so I did not use all the travel time we received to get from school to school. I would use this extra 2 hours to go to the mall, get my hair done, or go home. It was pure comedy when I would come to school with a side ponytail… then return with cornrows or a fresh perm.

On the way back to Roosevelt I would grab fast food. While at my locker stuffing my face Mr. A (the FAT hall monitor/ school security) called down the hall at me.

Mr. A “MISS WILSON!”

I quickly threw the bag of food in my locker… I knew it was a rule not to eat in the hall.

Mr. A “I saw that. Open your locker”

Me “Do you have a warrant?”

Mr. A “Stop being silly and open your locker”

Me “What’s silly about me knowing the law?”

Mr. A “I see someone wants detention!”

Me “I can’t have a detention… I have late play rehearsal tonight and this is the only time I have to eat!”

Mr. A “I don’t care what you have to do… give me the bag.”

Me “I swear, you are like a food bounty hunter! Every time, no matter where you are in the building you sniff it out!”

I opened my locker and handed over my fries, nuggets, and apple pie. Mr. A had the nerve to proceed to eat my food in my face. Talking reckless.

Mr. A “You don’t need this anyway. Aren’t you on the track team? Now get to class before I write you up!”

Me (being funny) “I got to get my weight up for shot put! AND you took my Taco Bell last week! I don’t have money to be feeding you!”

Mr. A “Then perhaps you should stop eating in the hall. Have a good day and a lovely play practice.”

I watched as he waddled down the hall eating my food. I was pissed.

On my way to rehearsal, I ran into one of my homeboys who was madly in love with my friend Richelle. It was one of those situations where he was WAY more into her than she was into him. He was holding this raggedy dirty vase with this half dead carnation in it (I’ll go ahead and say carnation to make it better…. But it looked more like a dandelion to me). He was looked really sad.

Me “Why so down ole chum!”

Boy “Well, I wanted to give this flower to Richelle, but she is in detention again.”

LOL. Richelle was always in detention! She was not bad, but our school gave them out all willy nilly. She was probably in there for one of the following: being “tardy” (can I just say I hate the word “tardy” It offends me… like it’s a way for teachers to call you “retarded and get away with it), illegal parking or laughing at the inappropriate moment in class (at least those are the reasons why I ever issued detention).

Me “You really want her to get this flower huh?” This was the most bootleg looking gift EVER… and any chance I could get to embarrass a friend I take. After all, what are friends for?

Boy “Yea, I got to get going and cannot wait for her to get out.”

Me “I’ll walk in detention and give this to her for you!”

Boy “You wouldn’t really bust up in detention and give them to her!” (clearly, he did not know who he was talking to).

Me “I sure will! She will love the attention! And this vase and carnation are AMAZING! I would LOVE for a guy to give me a gift like this in front of my peers!” (Ummm FALSE!)

I grabbed the dirt stained mustard colored vase and the weeds and walked into detention.

Teacher “WHAT ARE YOU DOING????!!!! You cannot just disrupt detention.”

Me “I have a special delivery for Richelle.”

Richelle’s nickname was Big Bird because of her high yeller skin. But at this moment… ELMO suited her better!

I sat the flower on her desk as the whole detention watched.

Me “These are from your boy!”

There were some snickers…. Richelle said nothing. If looks could kill I would be long gone.

Teacher “Would you like to join us?”

Me (busting out laughing at myself for walking in there and giving my friend this wack gift from someone she could care less about all because I knew the attention and others thinking she was “going out” with this guy would be embarrassing!) “No, I will be leaving now.”

Boy “What did she say???!!!??”

Me “I think she was impressed!” (I’m SOOOOO mean!)

I proceeded to Harlem Shake in the hall singing my version of the Bad Boy classic “Special Delivery”

I can’t remember if Richelle talked to me the next day or not. But if you can’t humiliate your friends… who can you humiliate!

Can You Hear Me Now????

Jo Jo (From K-Ci & Jo-Jo) Passes Out On Stage (around 1:45 mark)

Friday morning while watching Jojo pass out (on my blackberry) for the zillion time (see above video… when I get bored I watch it because it’s the most comical thing I have ever seen in my life. Between Jojo biting the dust, the raw emotion of K-Ci’s singing, and the bodyguard’s response… this clip is instant laughter and will forever be funny to me). ANYWAY, while watching it… my phone just broke. That’s right… the blackberry storm I have had for less than a week was broken. I could not even call out, receive calls or any data for that matter.

I decided to go to the Verizon on 34th street… I’m done messing with the Harlem location. As I was walking to the train… PLOP! Yea, bird dookie on my riding boots. You already know your day will be full of BS once you get shitted on.

I went home and changed my shoes. I got to Verizon and I’m highly upset because I this is a brand new phone and I’ve been in their store a total of 8 hours over the course of the week. I explained to the woman my situation.

Woman “Yea, this is a defective phone. Let’s get you a new one.”

Me “Thanks”

Manager “I hear you have been having phone issues?”

Me “You hear correctly. How is this the most reliable network? To keep it funky with you I have been at Verizon so many hours that yall need to put me on the payroll.”

Manager “Well, I’m sorry about that. I take it you would not like to take a survey rating products and service…..”

Me “Trust. I would give yall the lowest score ever.”

After spending an hour in the store (somehow they activated the new phone with my grandma’s phone number….. don’t ask) I walked around the corner to Ballys for a workout.

I was on the treadmill warming up before step aerobics when a guy approached me.

Guy “We need another player for our co-ed indoor soccer game…. Do you know how to play soccer?”

I have not played soccer since sophomore year of HS (unless you count when I was a councilor at the YMCA).

Me “Can I play a fullback or goalie?” (I was trying to do the least amount of work possible)

I joined the game and was having fun until they started getting extra serious. HELLO! We are not wearing protective gear. The next person to kick me in my shins was getting a beat down… before it got to that level…. I excused myself from the game.

Step class wore me out! I was wheezing up a storm. The 50 year old MIA 9 month pregnant woman was GETTING IT IN! She was the best in the class and put me to shame. I looked like the scene in “How Stella Got Her Groove Back” when Whoopi and Angela are on the beach working out… and Whoopi is in no kind of shape and just an overall hot mess…. that was me in this step class. 3 days later… and it still hurts to walk.

I decided to run some errands after the gym. I washed my hair there since it was a nice out… but I forgot my blow dryer so I just left it wet.

While in a store this awkwardly tall white guy tapped me on the shoulder.

Guy “Excuse me… have you been to the Caribbean spot on 34th and 10th?”

Me “No”

Guy “Really? I figured you being Caribbean you would have been there?”

Me “I’m not Caribbean.”

Guy “Oh, well, I thought all the pretty girls were from the Caribbean.”

Me “ You are mistaken. Why is it that the world has this fascination with people from “exotic places”? Is being black/ African American not good enough? Is it not pretty enough?

Quick Vent:

(Why does everyone feel the need to claim random stuff that is so far down the line? “My great grandfather is West Indian, My great great grandfather is white. Also, I have a great grandfather who is Jamaican”…. This quad-racial nonsense needs to end! People please cut this out! It is okay to be black. REALLY…. IT IS. And since moving to NY this is not the first fool to approach me on some you are pretty because you are _______ type stuff. Fill it in with Jamaican, Haitian, Nigerian, and Dominican because I have heard all of the above. I understand that to be African American more than likely means you have other stuff in the blood… and I get idea to identify when your parents are different races…but the great great grandparents…. GIRL/BOY BYE! It’s just getting out of hand. I blame Mariah and Tiger for this ish. )

Guy “I did not mean that… I meant….”

Me “What you meant was you got fooled by the wet and wavy.”

Guy “Excuse me?”

Me “My hair is wet… you mistook my kinks for curly tendrils… and I’m sure that these yoga pants I have on make my butt look rounder than usual…. So between the booty and the hair… you were fooled. But no, I am not Caribbean I am the product of the American slave trade.”

Guy “So where is the boyfriend? Does an Italian have a chance?” (I know since I said he was Italian… ladies you are thinking he was fine… but he wasn’t… just really tall with bad teeth…. In the words of grandma he was “built up all funny”).

Me “50 is with our son.”

Guy “50 cent?”

“Yes, my baby 50” (AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

That dude ran so fast from me! LOL! Ladies, if you don’t want to be bothered… tell the guy you are with a gangster rapper! Someone needs to give me a reality show and fast cause that right there was FUNNY!

That night I went to this lounge in the meat packing district with one of my homeboys. It was filled with men… my boy was upset… but it was good for me lol. Well, not really… these dudes were extra wack. The one guy that was cute…. I decided to approach. I have no problem being a female mack in a club situation…. Because I have no intention of really getting with this person. I think it’s lame to try to find love in the club and who really forms a lasting relationship out of that anyway? It’s all just sport here.

OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! This dude got to talking and his teeth looked like the talking Dunkey in Shrek!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Between that and the heavy Bronx accent (to the point I needed translation) … I excused myself extra fast! (but, "if i took one more drank imma end up F__ n youuuuuuu... is that what you wanna do shawty?" -T Pain)

Homeboy (laughing) “What happened?”

Me “Teeth complications. Close the tab… let’s leave.” (I was sippin on sprite and cran... not a drink since NYE for me)

We hopped a cab to this spot over on 30th and Park where a friend of a friend was having a birthday party.

Home boy “DAMN! I left my phone in the cab!”

Welp, so much for his phone.

The party was straight… but when you have to catch a train back uptown… check out is kind of early. I left around 2:40am.

This was my first time on the eastside this late (by myself with no one to split a cab to Harlem with)…. I took the 6 train to Grand Central station. I waited for 30 min for the shuttle until I realized the shuttle stops after 12am so I got on the 7 to Times Square then had to transfer to the 2 train… which was running local (stopping at every single stop). Since the 2 skips the part of Harlem where I live I had to get off at 135th street and take a cab the rest of the way home. I MISS DRIVING! And yall ask why I don’t go out on weekends anymore… because it’s like a 2 hour commute to the club and the drunk people on the train… I just can’t deal.

When I woke up the next morning…. my phone was not working. I threw on some clothes and went back to Verizon.

Woman “Sorry about that… your phone was programmed incorrectly.”

Me “Please get the manager.”

Manager “You look familiar.”

Me “I bet I do since I spend every waking moment in here. Look, you and I are about to sit down and you are going to write step by step directions as to the workings of this phone and also conduct whatever tests you need to do to make sure it functions something proper. I’m tired of this crap! CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW????????”

B!@$H Where's my Money?

Last July my friends and I flew to Chicago to attend the National Association of Black Journalist Convention (NABJ). Who would have known this would lead to me being stalked by a cabbie.

To save some money I stayed with my aunt and uncle out in the suburbs. I lived with them for 8 months after graduating college so they along with my cousins were excited to have me back for a few days. My car was over at my grandmothers and did not have the time to get it until later… so I just had someone take me to the train station (or borrowed their car) when I needed to go downtown for seminars.

The 2nd day of the conference I overslept. When I finally woke up the house was empty. I called my aunt.

Me “Hey, where did yall go?”

Aunt “Sherry had a basketball tournament and everyone is here.”

Me “Yall took all three cars for that?”

Aunt “Oops… we did.”

Me “Can someone come scoop me and I drop them back off at the HS?”

Aunt “Well…. The tournament is in Joliet so I don’t think that can happen.”

Me “Okay cool, I’ll just call a cab.”

I got dressed and called a cab. While sitting outside waiting for it I noticed a white 1995 Oldsmobile Cutlass circling the neighborhood. About the 5th time around I realized…. this was the cab. WOW. Brotha man was using his own car as a cab service.

Me “HEY STOP THE CAR!!!!!!!!!”

Cabbie “My bad baby, I was confused by the street numbers.”

Me “That’s okay, can you just get me to the metra station… and fast.”

Cabbie “I don’t know the neighborhood… where is the metra station?”

Me “How are you a cab driver and don’t know where important locations are? You are lucky I used to live here and know…. What if I didn’t… this would be a HUGE problem!”

He begins to drive as I directed every left and right he needed to take.

Cabbie “You are cute.”
Me “Thanks”

Cabbie “What are you doing tonight?”

Me “Nothing that requires any of your concern.”

Cabbie “So you from Chicago?”

Me “Long story… would you please pay attention to the road. You ALMOST RAN that light!”

We finally get to the metra station.

Me “Thank you. How much?”

Cabbie “Well shawty since I did not know how to get here…. 10 dollars.”

Me “We didn’t even go 2 miles… whatever here” (I handed him a 20)

Cabbie “You don’t have anything smaller… I aint got no change.”

Me “How are you a cab driver… with no legit cab, no knowledge of the area… and NO CHANGE! Hand that 20 back please.”

I sat in the back and looked at this fool through the mirror.

Me “So what you want to do, cause all I have are 20s?”

Cabbie “Let’s go get change.”

Me “FALSE! My train will be here in 6 min and the next one does not come for an hour. I don’t have time for that. How about you write down your address and I’ll send you a check.”

He actually did this… please…. I’m not sending him shit.

Later that night I was back at my aunt and uncle’s getting ready to go out for the night when my cell rings.

Cabbie “Hey, It’s Leon. I gave you a ride earlier. I’m sitting in the driveway if you want to come out and give me my money. Perhaps I can take you out.” (WTF!)

By this time I had walked upstairs and my dad and uncle were looking at the weird expression on my face.

Me “I’m not home. I’ll get at you later.” I quickly hung up.

Uncle “Who was that?”

Me “That ghetto ass cab service I was telling you about earlier… he was sitting in the drive just now and told me to come out and bring him his money.”

Dad “HELL NAH! How do you get yourself in these situations?”

Me “Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh! You passed a gene that attracts HOTT MESS!”

3 weeks later I was at work when my phone rang.

Cabbie “Aye, It’s Leon. How are you?”

Me “Leon? Who? I don’t know anyone named Leon.”

Cabbie “I picked you up and took you to the Metra when you were in the Chi.”

Me “The dude with the Cutlass?”

Cabbie “Yes, that would be my cab. I provided you with a service and I have yet to be paid for my service.”

Me “Your service was WHACK!”

Cabbie “Would you please send me a check for the amount of $10. Otherwise I could just go to the house I picked you up from and get it.”

Something about this dude was not right! Plus, I did not want him tormenting my family!

I sent him a money order for $10….please he was not getting my checking account information. I have not heard from him since.

To my NY friends who always laugh at me for making sure the cabs we get in are certified…. this is why.

I never knew $10 was so serious! Moral of the story. Don’t get in a Cutty with a buster named Leon.

Blame it on the Al-al- al- al- Alcohol

The other night I covered an event that was pretty much a bust. No big time celebs worth talking to. As I was putting my recorder away a random Joan Rivers looking woman tapped me on the shoulder.

Woman “I love your glasses!” (I had my Jay-z steez in full effect). I think I know you… aren’t you a reporter?”

Sigh… what gave that away? The recorder and notepad in my hand? (side-eye)

Me “Thank you. Yes I am.”

Woman “I am a celebrity dog trainer. I have been on many shows.” (she named a bunch I had never heard of). “Would you like for me to talk about Obama’s new dog!”

Well, if she had inside info on the first pooch… this night would not be a total bust.

Me (holding recorder to her mouth) “So, what can you tell me about dog Obama?”

Woman “I think he should name the dog CHANGE! We sure do need one and that name would be appropriate!” (insert cricket chirps!)

Me “Ummm…. Is that all you have to offer. Do you know anything else about the dog? Besides that it is a rescue Portuguese Water dog?”

Woman “It is SO wonderful that they are giving a wonderful home to a rescue dog! If the dog is not named Change… Alec Balwin told me they should name it Surplus! We sure need a SURPLUS!!!” (insert even MORE crickets)

Me “The NBC 30 Rock star told you this personally?”

Woman (taking a big swig of her drink) “But of course! I am a celebrity dog trainer!”

Me “What celebrity pups have you trained?”

Woman “That is confidential! But the quotes I gave you would be GREAT for your publication.”

GAME OVER. I’m mad I even entertained that CRAP. That was not funny to me yesterday… but today for some reason I am ROLLIN about that! Complete waste of my battery!

My Russian

On Sex and the City Carrie Bradshaw had a Russian Luver that whisked her away to Paris! Monday, a Russian entered my life too!

Okay, mine came in the form of my new physical therapist…but after all those awkward positions he made me assume during my hour session… hell, he might as well be a luver. Why could I not get a female therapist? I hate having to bend over in front of dude so he can “evaluate my back muscles”. Not only that, but there is a language barrier that kicked my brain into overdrive trying to figure out what he was asking me.

Russian “Where it hurt?”

Me “My back?”

Russian “Yes, The back where it hurt?”

Me “Lower”

Russian “What caused it?”

Me “Well, if you read my file I have scoliosis… so for a while now…..”

I gave him a min. to review the file. I just did not feel like I should have to explain ALL that has been going on with my back. (read this post if you have not been following http://whatisthisvelvet.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-neck-my-back.html)

Russian “I see…. Would you like a gown to put on so I evaluate?”

Me “With the back open? I’m good… I’ll tuck the back of my shirt under my bra.” (This aint no free show!)

He felt down my spine for a while then had me move and stretch a bunch of different ways.

Russian “Do you know your right pelvis sits higher than the left?”

Me “Yes, one leg is longer than the other. I’m supposed to wear a lift in the left shoe.”

Russian “You don’t wear it?”

Me “HELL NAW! It makes my left shoe tighter and it is uncomfortable walking… not to mention it’s really special ed to have to wear a lift in your shoe.”

Russian “Who is Special Ed?”

Me “Nevermind…. No I don’t wear my lifts… I don’t even know where they are anymore.”

Russian “Also… your left side of your spine sits deeper in your muscles than the right. If you touch here you can feel in.” (Too bad I don’t drive… cause with this new piece of info I sure would be applying for a handicap spot!)

Me “So is that why it hurts so bad?”

Russian “That and you have practically no muscle mass back here to support spine. You must build muscle.”

He then practically body slammed me in the area that sits deeper. My eyes instantly watered!

Me “OUCH!!!!!!! WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR!”

Russian “You should do Pilates”


Me (giving him evil side-eye for his prior action) “At the suggestion of the doc I went to one class… I have another tonight.”

That night I went to a different Pilates session. We had to do it barefoot. THE ROOM WAS RANK. I thought I was going to pass out! What were these people ingesting for them to smell like that!

10 min after class was supposed to start in walked the instructor…. Dressed from head to toe in 2004 House of Dereon. HOTT MESS! She was swolled all up.

Teacher “I am Pafima. Welcome to advanced Pilates!” (WHHHAAAATTT!!!!! I THOUGHT THIS WAS BASIC! OMG I’m GOING TO DIE!)

This lady practically had me p-poppin on a handstand! This morning when I woke up I could not lift my hands over my head. I don’t know if I’m going to mess with Pafima anymore! But if Pilates will give me Michelle Obama arms… I’ll stick with it for a little bit.

Stuntin Like My Daddy!

Okay. So those of you who kept getting texts and emails about my phone number changing… this is the story.

The only bill my parents were paying was my cell. I appreciated it… but it was time for me to boss up and get off the family plan.

Friday afternoon I went to Verizon on 125th street in Harlem. Kiss FM was doing a remote broadcast from this location as a closing to black history month… the store was packed and CRUNK! Plus, it was raining outside so everyone off the street was now in this little store.

Finally, when it was my turn I told the lady I wanted a new contract and to give me the curve. Because my number was under my parents, I was not authorized to keep it and was told I had to get a new number. I had her call corporate to see if this could be worked around. Mind you… the radio station was bumpin in the background so trying to conduct business was VERY difficult. They would not give me my old number so a NY area code I assumed.

That night I thought about it… I’ve been applying for new jobs and have been freelancing for a few other publications…. I NEEDED my old 312 number.

My parents and I had to three-way Verizon and they told us since the transaction was complete… there was no way to transfer my old number to the new phone. The next day I went back to Verizon to work it out. Sales lady kept telling me she could not do it… then I got an idea.

Me “What if I return the phone, cancel my service, then repurchase it under my old number, and get another contract. Then have you call my parents for permission and then we three-way corporate so we can sign off on the approval.”

I got out of the sales line and went and stood in the customer service line. This was 30 min.

Man “So…. You want to return the phone and buy it again????”

Me “Yes.”

Man “Why……???”

Me “Long story… the clerk gets me… can you just do it.”

Man “I don’t understand.”

Me “JUST RETURN THE PHONE!”

I would not have been this irritated if it was not for the fact I was in there forever the day before and today they were having a buy one Storm Blackberry get one free promotion. I swear all of Harlem was in there buying phones. The store was A MESS!

After the return… I had to get back in line with the sales lady, who was teaching an older Mexican man how to use his phone. THIS TOOK FOREVER!

When it was finally my turn…. Getting my old number was not easy. After many failed attempts…

Sales lady “You are going to have to switch this yourself.”

Me “If you can’t do it and you WORK here… how am I supposed to do it?”

Sales lady “You are going to have to call corporate”

Me “I don’t even have a landline. I am NOT leaving here without a functioning phone.”

Sales lady “Well come back here with me to customer service you can call from there.” (side eye.. forreal?)

Customer service had me on the line forever. I kept getting transferred. Finally someone worked it out. I repurchased the Blackberry curve and had my numbers transferred. I had been in Verizon since 2pm… the time was now 5 and I was on the way out the door when I got a call from my dad.

Dad “Hi Jessica, did you get the phone situation worked out?”

Me “Yes.”

Dad “What phone did you get?”

Me “The curve”

Dad “They have a deal buy one Storm get one free.”

Me “I don’t have the money for the storm and it’s not like I have someone to activate for the second storm.”

Dad “I want the Storm.”

Me “So what are you saying…….”

Dad “Go buy the Storm.”

Me (almost in tears because I had been in there for so long and he knew I was there) “YOU MEAN YOU WANT ME TO GO RETURN THIS PHONE AND GO THROUGH ALL THAT AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU SERIOUS!”

Dad “Calm down. Let me upgrade you!”

Me (wildin out) “YOU have NO idea what I have been through with Verizon today dad. I can’t do it again! That store is packed and then I have to have them switch all my info again!”

Dad “I don’t see why this is a big deal.”

Me “Because I am out the door!”

Dad “Just get the storm, I’ll help you pay for the phone itself…. then mail me the other one.”

So there you have it. I went back in line to return the phone. Because this was my second time returning a phone… they had to call corporate to wave the $35 stock charge for exchanging. THIS TOOK FOREVER!

At 6pm I left feeling horrible. I am not a tech person… I felt like that scene in the Sex and the City movie when Samantha handed Carrie the Iphone to use to call Mr. Big on the wedding day. I DID NOT KNOW HOW TO USE THIS DAMN TOUCH DIAL STORM! I was so frustrated!

When I got home I had to read how to make a call. NEVER have I not been able just to call someone from a phone before.

Dad “So how do you like it!!!??!!!”

Me “I HATE this! I don’t know how to work it! This is soooo frustrating!”

Dad “calm down… there is a video on youtube explaining how to use the phone.” (side eye… this phone is doing the most! Now, you know it’s complicated if there is an instructional video!) I feel so bad. My friend Ant is the first number in my phone… I kept calling her by accident! LOL. (sorry gurl!)

I watched the video and emailed my friend Arion from my laptop (cause I could not figure out how to text her or call her) who has a Storm.

Me “Why is there a $3 extra charge to use voicemail?”

Arion “HAHAHA that’s for visual voicemail.”

Me “WTF is that! I just need to retrieve my messages!”

I finally figured out the phone and called my dad the next morning.

Me “I’m getting the hang of it.”

Dad “I told you. It’s pretty cool. We’ve never had the same phone.”

Me “Yup, I’m stuntin like my daddy!”

Dad “Fo Sho!”

Me “Allllllready!”

Bueller

So I covered the premier of the Broadway play Guys and Dolls tonight. In the press line I was standing between a girl from Seventeen Magazine… and one from Vogue.com

Seventeen (dressed and looks like a 14 year old) “Like I am so happy to be here!”

We were outside in the cold and it was snowing… if I did not need the money this would have been one of those time I would have declined the job.

They had the reporters standing over the subway vent things (like a sewer system) I was glad I wore flat boots, but the Seventeen chick and Vogue girl had on heels.

Vogue “I cannot believe they have us standing on this. There is a chance we can fall in!”

Secretly I wanted to fall in. Then I could sue the theater, the pr firm who arranged this setup and the city of New York. “I’VE FALLEN AND I CAN’T GET UP!”

Me “Well just stand to the side until the celebs come and then plant your feet. Just be careful not to move.”

Vogue (turns to a friend she brought with her) “Can you take my credit card and go buy me some flat shoes. Make sure they match my outfit!” (was she serious with this?)

She was. With that her friend took off running towards Madison Avenue.

Seventeen “So, I don’t know any of the celebs on the list.”

Me “That’s too bad.”

Seventeen “I don’t watch TV”

How are you an entertainment/red carpet reporter that does not watch TV? Complete and utter blasphemy!

This was not really an A list thing. Most of the “celebs” that walked buy I did not talk to.

Seventeen “Do you know who that is?”

Me “Ana Ortiz”

Seventeen “Who is she?”

Me “She plays the Hilda the sister to Ugly Betty on Ugly Betty.”

Seventeen “Oh, I guess I should talk to her?”

Me “Ugly Betty is a prime time show… perhaps you should.” (Can I get her job?)
Ana come near us and Seventeen starts asking all these stupid questions like what is your favorite broadway play? Would you ever do broadway? YAWN! Then it was my turn.

Me “Can I just say you are fab in Ugly Betty! You have this glow about you! What are you using!”

Ana “Well I am 6 months pregnant but we are hiding it on the show!” (She goes on about her pregnancy and all the anti stretch mark creams she uses and blah blah blah blah) Not wonderful quotes, but better than all those damn Broadway questions.

When I was done asking all my questions… seventeen turns to me.

Seventeen “Wow, you really got her to open up! I would have never thought to ask her that.” This girl was wack.

Me “May I ask how long you have been at Seventeen?”

Seventeen “Well, I’m from Ohio. I go to school here. One of the editors is a family friend.” (side eye)

Meanwhile Vogue chick had just received her shoes. Now she felt like she could work.

When red carpet was over… we were told “Thanks have a nice night!” FALSE. I wanted to see the show. How do you have me covering an event that I can’t even go inside.

Me (to PR lady) “Excuse me, where is my ticket?”

PR “We did not give press tickets” GRRRRRR

That’s when a man overheard this exchange and just handed me a ticket… said he had an extra. I thanked him and went inside. FRONT ROW CENTER!!!!!!!!!!! I was seated right next to Matthew Broderick… Mr. Ferris Bueller. But most important…. Husband to Sarah Jessica Parker… Star of my favorite show SEX and THE CITY! I must have been sitting in her seat since she was not there. WOW the seat that would have been Carrie Bradshaw! I felt special. I asked him to adopt me… but he just laughed.

Me “Wouldn’t it be fun to have 2 Jessica’s at home!”

Matthew “Ummm… it would be confusing.”

Me “We could work it out.”

Matthew “Ummm no”

Can’t blame a girl for trying!