A Girl Wrote It

I'm in a show. It opens next week. I'm nervous as hell.

A Girl Wrote It is back again after its critical success in 2011.  This year, Wide Eyed Productions has upped the ante by bringing together some of the most gifted emerging and established female playwrights being produced today. 

From first flings and early love to failing bonds, exploration, and erotic courtship, the five stories in this year’s A Girl Wrote It will present comedies and dramas that explore relationships and contemporary issues which press and spark our imaginations.

So they are letting me do this pretty kick-ass monologue that I'm really excited about. Perhaps there will be pictures. Perhaps video? Perhaps I will even share it with you. If you live around here you might even want to come see it.

Also, they did a little interview about me and posted it RIGHT HERE.  The editor was kind enough to soften me up a bit so I wouldn't offend anyone or burn bridges with my old school.  Funny. Anyhoodle, go take a gander at it.  I'll be here drinking my sangria and pretending to work while talking to myself. It's fun practicing my monologue at work. I list all the things I hate and my coworker thinks I've finally totally lost it. She is probably googling the number for an institution right now. See you all in group therapy.

xoxo
Knight

Long Weekend of Sleep

Friday afternoon I was stuck at my boss’ new townhouse where they recently kicked out squatters. I was advising a cleaner on what needed to be done in this absolute filth hole. I did a little sweeping and such myself in order to not waste time. It was disgusting. I will never be clean again. One of the prior occupants is a crazy bastard who spent a long time on the phone with me. He told me women are only good for cooking and giving birth. I told him he was an idiot and if he had any women in his life that allowed him to act that way they were idiots too.  He asked me out to coffee. I hope to God I never have to meet him in person.

Friday night I went to a fancy fondue party. Delicious! One of my friends brought back a variety of delicious rums from Dominica.  Mine was cinnamon and I swear to you it tasted just like Red Hot Candies! That night I had a pretty bad seizure. I’m sure it had something to do with fucking around in that disgusting house full of pesticides earlier in the day but at least at this time I was with someone I trust and love.  I tried to sleep it off all Saturday morning. I went to brunch at 1 but still felt like crap. I ended up back at another friend’s place where I fell right back asleep with her cat in my lap. The cat love made my face swell up and my eyes turned bright red. Sexy. So I went home and passed out at 8:30pm.  I didn’t get up until 2pm the next day. So I went to my bar where I watched the Giants beat the Packers. That sucked. I also discovered one of the bartenders there is quite the douche-canoe and will not be privy to my conversation ever again.Cross me once and you get daggers for life.

After the game I had a fairly mild night which was followed by another 13 hours of sleeping. I had dreams about making tacos so I woke up and… made tacos. This taco making process of my dreams made the whole weekend worthwhile. I really love tacos.

So now it’s Monday morning. I’m back at work. I’m still really sore from the damn seizure. I’m pissed off. I’m pissed that my body is so damn weak that it feels the need to go into a dangerous fit that takes me days to recover. What is wrong with me? Why can’t I stop it? Why don’t we know the real cause? When will I ever be able to emotionally handle this crap? Can’t the lesson just be learned and then we can move on?

I’m going back to bed.

Dear Lover,

Dear Lover,

I had this terrifying dream that you were trying to wake me in the middle of the night for a little, ahem, lovin’ and when I opened my eyes I didn’t recognize you. I didn’t recognize you because apparently before waking me you decided to shave off all your hair including your beard and eyebrows. It scared the crap out of me. Please, lover, don’t shave off your eyebrows in the middle of the night. You need them. If you promise not to do anything crazy like that I shall be happy to wake whenever you want.

Xo,

Knight

Rafting Prom 2011!

In the year 2001 I spent one special day primping and stressing over the minute details of what was a barely remembered sort of annoying night. The event I attended was known to my high school senior class as Prom.  It didn’t suck but it wasn’t the amazing momentous occasion you are told to dream of either.

Two weeks ago I was at a friend’s birthday party being introduced to a sassy guy in a pink shirt as his prom date. He didn’t appreciate his date being forced upon him. I think he assumed I was a bitch. I assumed he was gay. I had no idea what this prom thing was so my friends explained that they had plans to get dressed in formal wear and then travel to a river in Jersey where they would ride down the river on air mattresses.  No way in hell was I going to miss this. It turns out pink shirt guy is not gay, just a bit of a hipster and we have a ton in common even though I am a bit of a bitch. I get to go to prom!

Ten years later the real prom of my dreams comes to life.  Hell, even the music was better. Listening to a bunch of freaks belt out Total Eclipse of the Heart while standing in a waterfall is a million times better than standing in a swaying circle of pubescent, crying, sex crazed youth singing American Pie.

Okay, okay it wasn’t prom. It was just a really awesome outing with crazy amazing people. Here, I’ll show you so you can feel left out. Just like your original prom.

 This is the full crew. Photo taken by random man in the forest with dog. 

The Ladies of the Lake

I'm keepin' it classy New Jersey!

The guys are lookin' mighty fine. 

Actually with me putting my dress on in the background it looks a little like a terrifying woodland after-orgy photo. 

Prom Photo! Knight and Date

   The Naughty Couple

The water looks oil filled but we didn't notice anything unusual. Thanks to the hurricane we almost cancelled the trip. We were afraid of flooding, hypothermia, dead bloated animals, cemetery bits, and 10,000 gallons of diesel fuel. 

 The Mighty Waterfall

Climbing the Waterfall (aka Tits and Ass photo)

I lost my shoe climbing the rock and sensing my weakness my date started stalking me in the wood.

 Carrying my dead body down the river like a gentleman. 

#Wehadfun

So it was a pretty great Labor Day weekend. Hey if anyone has any awesome ideas of amazing things to do I'm open to suggestions.

My Insanity Is Showing

*Click to Enlarge*

FYI

Graphic signs of the Schizoid
Vigilant and tense handwriting
Extremely strong pressure
Angels
Arcades
Separation
Narrowness
Extremely wide spaces between words or identical to the spaces between letters
Covering strokes
Emphasized upper zone
Left of upright slant
Frozen
Tense strokes
High upper zone
Large or extreme height differentials
At times - a weak stroke
Secondary narrowness
Angular connections
Similar to the "autistic type" by Odem
Emphasize of the beginning
Rhythmic writing
Covering the whole page
Strange ending of letters
"Invented" letters
Twisted letters
Broken letters
Corrections, especially "artistic corrections"
Abundance of punctuation marks or lack of them
Slow writing
Peculiarities and exaggeration
Printed letters

Doesn't this apply to just about everybody? I personally enjoyed THIS SITE.

Ass For Christmas

My New Favorite Christmas Video.

Double click to see the large version.



Some of you might have figured out already that this is my boyfriend. Creepy, I know. Neil and Sky have been a songwriting duo for several years. It’s about damn time they made this into a video. I’m very proud. Please feel free to share this with your family for the holidays. Maybe grandma needs to ask Santa for ass as well. You never know.

Monkeys and Goobers - Probably NSFW

You think your family is strange? Arguing and getting drunk is just the normal family way of saying I tolerate you for the holidays. That doesn’t make your family crazy. I’m going to be realistic. I don’t think my family is crazy. I think they are gross.

I spent the holidays with my family hearing stories about monkeys and goobers. Sound silly? Well maybe it is. Here is a story example: Apparently sometime recently my ten year old cousin was playing a game of Would You Rather with my mom, grandmother, and aunt. This is just a fun little car game to pass the time and keep the kid occupied. So the question comes up “Would you rather kiss a monkey or….” Nobody can quite remember the end of it because my grandmother and aunt get so “tickled” they can’t stop laughing. You see, my grandmother is from Alabama and when she was growing up they used different words for things they didn’t want to say. She then used some of those same words when raising her own children. So basically my ten year old cousin asked my mother “Would you rather kiss a vagina or……” and that is all they remember. Monkeys have such soft lips. So we went on talking about monkeys and their male counterpart “goobers” for a while. My mother mentioned the horror she felt of people saying they hacked up a goober from their throat.

Well anyway, then my grandmother is trying to tell me and my mother that bathing is better for your monkey as opposed to showering. Some hundred year old doctor told my grandmother that bathing is better for “cleaning her out”. I’m sorry but if your monkey is sucking up water like a straw, something is wrong. I mean, it might be a cool party trick but grandma doesn’t have the aim she used to.

I apologize. That was disturbing. Sharing with you all has become my therapy so you will have to experience the pain too. There were many other stories along these lines including my grandmother asking very seriously as I put on my bra if I got a boob job. (Side note: Why does everyone ask this? I mean, if I were spending money on my chest I would have gone MUCH bigger.) Oh, I was sharing a hotel room with mom and grandma. That is why my grandmother was witnessing me put on my bra. She then became abusively insistent that my mom needs an “Oprah Bra”. WTF is an “Oprah Bra?” If grandma said it I probably don’t need to know. She also mentioned at random that my now dead grandfather “ripped her crack”. AGH! Holy Broken Butt Cheeks Grandma! Keep those sexy tidbits to yourself!

Perhaps I should stop now. I have so much more to share but I won’t do that to you ya little goobers. Just remember this holiday season that it’s important to share and reminisce with your family. Get personal. Really get to know the ones you love. A disturbed and perverted family is a happy family. I love them all. Bottoms Up!

Why?

Jay asked me (well, everyone) why I blog and then listed a whole bunch of really good reasons so that I wouldn’t have to think too hard. I decided that it’s to avoid paying for therapy. I want to take this moment to thank you all for being a part of my group therapy sessions. I’ve worked through a lot and all you had to do was comment every now and again about nothing in particular. I really feel that I’ve grown as a person and each of you almost have something to do with that. Almost.

I told Sky to go to his own home Friday and got the whole weekend to myself! What did I do alone in my apartment over the weekend? Clean. I feel so much better. Cleanliness is next to happiness is what I always say. Don’t worry, I’ve never said that. I don’t like cleaning things, I just like it to be clean and I can’t afford cleaning people to do it for me. I also realized I have a weird little quirk and I wonder if others have the same thing. If I have been cleaning anything, not organizing but cleaning, I have to take a shower immediately after. It’s not like I actually got dirty in the process but even running the vacuum means I have to take a shower. I might have problems.

I sang during a friends show at a bar last night. It was a last minute thing but very fun. Then a crazy old red headed guy dressed in full Jets attire insisted on walking me home. Normally I would be worried but he was nice and smaller and weaker than me. He proposed to me. How is it that the strangest human being at the bar will always seek me out? I’ve gotten so many proposals from strange old men in my days I can’t even begin to count. What in the hell is that about?

Hey There Crazy!

I’m sorry tall semi-attractive black man on the subway, are you talking to me? I can see that you are wildly gesturing at me and very heatedly speaking non-stop but I can’t hear you over the breaks screeching. It’s 9am on Monday and I’m on my way to work so usually I avoid making eye contact with people but you seem so excited to fill me in on some sort of news. What’s that? Oh, you are God? That is interesting! Are you sure you’re God or have you just used a little too much crack in your time? I’m sorry, did I just hear you call that kid a very derogatory term? Sure he is dressed a little flamboyantly but I don’t think God says things like that to innocent people on the subway. You are right; I don’t understand you and I never will because you have serious difficulties with sentence structure. Please don’t get closer to me. Oh, you are Native American? I killed you? The hand gesture gun at my head is a little amusing but mostly scary. You might have a real gun in those gigantic pants and I would rather not see it. Now you are just talking gibberish and I can’t tell if you are threatening me or trying to inform me of something you think is important. Oh no, I’m so SORRY God but this is my train stop. Let’s continue this conversation another time. Will you still be this crazy say tomorrow morning around 9am? Great, see you then.

Life as a crazy magnet in New York is so thrilling!

A Trip To The Diner

I was sitting at the local diner with Sky having a really shitty breakfast at 1pm. The old man next to us has been talking non-stop to the younger woman across the table since the dawn of time. I'm thinking perhaps she is deaf because I can't tell if she is even aware he is still rambling. I'm usually pretty good at blocking out other people but fairly quickly I realized both Sky and myself were totally silent and engrossed in what this man was talking about. He covered an array of topics with intense passion and commitment. You couldn't help eavesdropping. After all, he is only a foot away from me. So he says something about youth and how young people don't talk to their ancestors about history and how they could learn something from it. Possibly stop making the same mistakes. But the kids aren't interested. So I chimed in,

"Well, WE are interested!"

Whoa.

He turned to me and peered at me with his one working eye as it started to tear up and began a beautiful one person conversation that lasted for the next three hours. Oh yes. Three hours.

Turns out the younger woman across the table was his new wife. They just got married last year. He told us all about his abusive parents that raped him as a child and how he was autistic for 34 years and could barley move. He told us a lot about Winnicott whom he obviously adores. He is Jewish but kept saying he didn't believe in a God that could do the things that have happened to so many humans. Then he spoke of the Holocaust and the rape his wife endured in her prior marriage. He spoke of many religions and ideas and countries and people. He spoke of philosophers. He spoke quickly. I couldn't absorb it all.

Okay this is what I'm getting at. I walked into this diner expecting same old same old and ignoring what I assumed was a crazy old man. I ended up having an amazing eye and ear opening experience with enough information to count as an entire college course. Maybe you should consider having a long talk with someone in their eighties or nineties. I bet they could teach you something. Oh, and don't lose the chance to collect the stories of your family history because as my new friend said "when it's gone, it's gone" and lost forever.

Aren't you hungry for diner food now?

Show Time!

It's time to promote my next show.

HOLIDAY COQUETTES

Location: The Duplex 61 Christopher Street (@7th Ave), New York, NY 10014 US
When: Thursday, December 18, 7:00PM
Phone: 212-255-5438

Come pick your fix; Naughty or Nice? Celebrate the holidays with vocals performed by Ava Mihaljevich and Carly Knight with Alex Lawrence on piano. Don't forget the mistletoe!

$8 Cover and a 2 Drink Minimum
Make your reservations online at www.TheDuplex.com
(Seriously make a Reservation.)

Be there Bitches! -Naughty
Be there Kittens. -Nice

Perturbingly - Dictionary.com says it's a word.

This post will probably disturb some of you. What can I say? I'm a disturbing person. The sooner you realize that the better off you will be.

Several months ago I was introduced to a youtube video and song that I thought was amusing but forgot about almost instantly. It was catchy but I obviously had other things on my mind at the time. I heard the song in passing a couple times but it wasn't until a couple weeks ago (when a crazy bartender played it for us) that it got stuck in my head. Now it won't leave. I walk around singing this song all day every day.



Catchy isn't it? So of course I had to show Casey the video since I kept saying "It puts the lotion in the basket." It's one thing if I can't stop quoting the movie. It's another when a song gets stuck in your head. Or maybe they are both bad. I don't know. Anyway, he informed me that they made a musical of the movie. It's true. "Silence! The Musical". You can listen to tracks here. It's perturbingly funny!

I think I will enjoy some fava beans and a nice Chianti this evening.

Power Shopping

The show is one week from today. Somehow I am sleeping with my heart beating at twice it's normal rate. At least it feels that way. Maybe it is the stomping from the thoughts racing through my head.

The pianist was feeling ill last night so we rescheduled to this Thursday. That means I went out shopping for a dress last night. One thing checked off the list. I'm such a power shopper it's scary. I ran into the store, grabbed anything that looked like a possibility within just a few minutes. I tried it all on as fast as possible and quickly found that only one was acceptable. Just incase, I did another run around the the store. Mind you, the store is Macy's so it's a big f'n place to run around. Finally I just said out loud to nobody in particular "Screw it. This is good enough!" and purchased the damn thing. I'm sure I looked crazy but everyone in that hellhole is crazy so I fit right in.

New fun things I found at Etsy:

Cute Puppy

Blunt Earwear

Dammit Doll

Everyone was born in July!

I already gave a card to Dana. I mentioned my grandma Blanche's b-day in my last post. I have a few more congrats to give. Happy Birthday to my other grandma who celebrated on the 12th. My blog sis Ne was born July 10th. Farmer*sWife celebrated by having a day out with her daughter yesterday. My real life friend Darla celebrates today! (We will really celebrate with her this weekend!) Finally, my fantastic mother celebrates this Friday. I have to think of some clever way to scare her and pay her back for that boob picture text. Any ideas?
If I missed anyone I'm sorry. You can bitch about it in the comments. (Note: I apparently only know females born in July. Hmmm.)



Speaking of birth, I heard the Bush administration wants to make it harder to get birth control. Crazy bastards. Don't they realize most people should NOT be breeding? Take, for instance, the Bush family. Nah, I'm not going to get political.
I don't want people messing with my anti-baby meds damnit!

Blame My Bloodline

Long time readers and actual friends of mine may or may not have noticed that I'm a little odd. I blame my family.

My dad has been sending me links to a lot of videos this past week. Some how I inherited his very odd sense of humor. It says a lot about how I turned out this way. The two I received yesterday were:

Almost learn about the history of one of Washington's favorite slaves from a really drunk chick.

and

Awesome performance done by a guy that will "Never Get Ahead". The backup dancers are the best part.

That was my dad's contribution to my life in the last couple of days. My mother is out of town so I assume he hasn't put on pants and is drinking wine out of the bottle while he surfs the net and watches the Independent Film channel. My dad rocks.

My mom took my grandmother to see a show in Chicago for her birthday this weekend. My aunt flew in and my brother lives in Chicago so they are all having a big party without me. I called yesterday to wish my grandma a happy birthday and see what I was missing out on. It sounded like they were having a good time. They were drinking by 11am so I'm sure it was an interesting day. Around 10pm Chicago time I got a picture text from my mom. I thought it might be of my brother's dog or someone drinking something. Instead to my complete and utter shock I opened a photo of my grandmother ................topless! How much did they drink? Of course I immediately call my mom to ask why she would do such a cruel thing. She is cracking up when she answers the phone and honestly, so am I. I can hear grandma in the background, "I'm so damn tired I don't care if she posts it up at work."
So I did.
No, I didn't. That would be mean. I have to say though, she has nice boobs for a 74 year old. I'm glad I'm in that bloodline. *Sigh* I hate missing out on a good party. Happy birthday Grandma!

So as you can see, I'm crazy because my family made me that way.

Introducing Al

Today my blogging mentor (she hasn't exactly agreed to the mentoring) Tink of Pickled Beef awarded me with this:

Thanks Tink! It's an honor coming from you, the coolest chick in blogland.

Today I messed with my blog layout a tiny bit. I changed the top banner text and it almost looks the same but I almost made a huge jump to this:



Then I decided it looked a little too crime drama or night court. Very misleading. My co-worker suggested I include a hampster in a parachute falling in the skyline. I don't really understand that one yet but kudos to him for being creative. I also changed up my profile pic to what I call "escaping from the asylum". Casey says I look crazy in the photo so he always harasses me about it. The crazy is exactly why I like it! You all already know I'm crazy if you have read even one blog entry. I have nothing to hide here.

Speaking of crazy, I would like to introduce you to my roommate Al.

Al and I are good friends. I met him at Ikea and we hit it off. I agreed to look out for him as long as he didn't mind me singing and talking at him quite a bit. So far he has proved to be an excellent apartment mate. By that I mean, he has not died on me. I am very proud it's working out.

Today at work I took a few photos of the view from our office.

It's a nice view but it's sad to sit in Queens all day and stare at the place you want to be. The place where all the action is. *Sigh* I'm in love with this city.

The Hot and the Homeless

Last night I was out drinking wine and listening to jazz with A and NYCeCe.
We had not all been out together in awhile and it was great to catch up on a lot of things. At one point we remembered one of those great city stories that is blog worthy. NyCeCe promised to write it and if she does I will link it here but I'm going to do my half assed version anyway.
******************************************
One summer night several years ago I was headed to meet NyCeCe at her job on the Upper West Side. I did this frequently so I usually stood outside the employee exit and waited for her to come out. I was still a block or two away from her job when an extremely attractive man stops me in the street. He started telling me how stunning I am (which in this city happens to everyone everywhere) but I was a little surprised by his behavior. I thanked him and tried to keep walking but he followed me. "I know this is awkward and I don't want to scare you but I'm in a bad situation and I was hoping you could help."
I'm not usually very nice to strangers but he had captured my interest. After all, he was damn hot. He told me that he recently became homeless and needed a place to stay. He asked me, a stranger in the street, if he could come home with me. I laughed and said I wasn't going home, I was going to meet a friend at her work. Then I commented that he certainly didn't look homeless.
I kept walking. He followed. "Do you mind if I join you while you wait for your friend?" He was kind of charming. Sure attractive homeless guy. You can wait with me in the street because NyCeCe has to see this.
It was worth it. She came out of that employee exit, saw me standing with this guy and I could see the "Who's the hottie?" look on her face. I introduced him by name and then promptly announced, "We just met. He's homeless." So we invited him to join us for a pitcher of Sangria.
As we drank our fruity wine we were asking him questions about why he was homeless and where he had been staying. Basically, we were trying to figure him out. It didn't make sense. In the meantime he is hitting on both of us and trying to get one of us to invite him home. On the one hand, the guy needed help. On the other, we are not stupid. Visions of Charles Manson are going through our heads. So we both told him over and over again that we were very sorry but neither of us would be providing his shelter for the night. Then he pulled out a $20 and tried to pay for the Sangria. What? Where did that come from? No homeless man, this one is on us.
I don't really remember what happened after we left that place. I think we basically ran so the guy would stop following us.
This is only one of the many, many odd outings we have shared. I like this story. I frequently wonder where the hot homeless man is now. I wonder what lucky lady finally did take him home. I also wonder if he killed her. Ah, good times.

What am I talking about?

I mentioned that I am crazy in the last post and I thought maybe I should clarify that I like being crazy. I think crazy is normal. Most people that think they are normal are actually naive and/or frightning. Like this woman...



Mike posted this video the other day. I originally saw this on Wife Swap on ABC a long time ago. I remember laughing and laughing. In this episode a Christian family swaps mom's with a Wiccan family. Other than the crazy mom you see flipping out here in the last five minutes of the show, the episode was pretty boring. This provides a great example of someone who thinks they are normal.


In the 60's people thought Hippies were crazy. I wish I had been alive in the 60's. I have wanted to be a hippie all my life. It just isn't the same thing now. I missed all the fun. I have to fight "the man", make love not war, AND cut/wash my hair? That isn't fair.

I put black nail polish on Casey's toes about six months ago and this morning I made him sit still while I removed the last bit of it. How can that stay on him so long and the purple nail polish on my fingers that was applied two days ago is almost completely chipped away already? Wtf?
What does that have to do with anything?

When I was a child I spent a lot of time around perm solution. That might explain a lot. I was at my grandmothers all the time and she had a beauty shop as part of her home. As a child I spent countless hours giving perms to mannequin heads. Imagine the fumes I must have been inhaling into my little lungs. *Sigh* Memories.

The Scream

A letter to Edvard Munch:

Hey Ed,
I was thinking about this painting of yours and you know, I feel you man. All that intense emotion swirling around in the bloody sky. That isn't a scream of fear. That is a scream of absolute madness. Frustration to the point of your head exploding. Everything around you is going wrong and you break down into a panic attack. Yeah, I'm having one of those days today. Just another day at work, you know? Maybe I'm reading you all wrong. Maybe you are just a crazy bastard like all other artists. Well that's okay Ed cause I'm crazy to.