Sometimes i play dress up.

Styleline Magazine did an article on FIGO salon in Birmingham, MI. My FIGO Family flew me home so I could model for them. I was extremely flattered and honored. Rino and Kristina always do such a great job with photoshoots, and this was no exception. Plus it was great to hang out with all my old coworkers and friends for a weekend. Here's some of the pics from the shoot. (Hair and Styling by Kristina Marra of FIGO salon, Make up by Justin Ruppel of FIGO salon Photography by John Roe)

here's a link to the article in case you'd like to read it. especially pages 56-60 as well as the table of contents on page 13. some one might be famous.

i think this is the start of a beautiful friendship.

86.3 the groove recently celebrated its one year anniversary. CONGRATS TO US. an entire year living together, and no one has died. or gone to jail. that's truly remarkable. We also recently (or about a month ago) started renovating our apartment to make it look like grown ups live here. or at least a house full of good actors who from time to time like to play make believe. we still have a little work to do, but what we've done so far is looking prettttty good. i really do LOVE my roommates and feel so happy and honored to be a part of this somewhat dysfunctional, but ultimately loving and supportive family we've created here in nyc.

Here's some pictures courtesy of Roger.

It also was nice to spend all weekend couped up in the apartment together with nothing but good company, good conversation and some paint fumes. We had a lot of good conversations about Sylvia Plath, were jared reminded me that i couldn't say things like "i just can't imagine killing myself while my children were in the house" because i'm not a mother yet. i may or may not still feel like that when the time comes. we read parts of the Kinsey report after a discussion of the Feminine Mystique where i finally found motivation to go to grad school. "Women with higher education are more likely to orgasm than women who get married young." These bachelor's degree O's just aren't cutting it for me. I also remembered how funny the name "Patches O'Houlihan" was. I said "you know whats funny? the name Patches O'Houlihan." and laughed to myself for 25 minutes.

matt also had one of the wittiest quickest comebacks i've ever heard.

Casey: Aren't you guys glad i'm not a total girlie girl, and i'm actually handy around the house?
Matt: I'll be a lot happier when i start receiving those handies.



another important discovery made while working on these renovations. the True Value 2 blocks from our house in the most happenin' place in brooklyn. every time we went to the hardware store we'd end up staying for at least an extra half an hour laughing about things such as 11" ballcocks. and the music there is better than any club i've been to in the city. i'm not even joking. now if only we could get them to fix the soda machine so we could be drinking orange soda while we walk around, and stay open til 4am, i think we may just have ourselves a new hangout.

Hey good lookin, whatcha got cookin

I've decided as part of our 3.5 week detox (that was officially ruined on the first day of our detox. by about 6pm) I'm going to cook more. mostly because i'm poor. also because people seem to like reading food blogs. and because i'm really sick of the sorry excuses for "Restaurants" in Bushwick. Except chinese food, but i can no longer go back there.

a couple weeks ago, i decided to stop by the Chinese take out place conveniently locate at the steps of the subway. I ordered my food, paid, threw a dollar on the counter and patiently waited for my orange chicken. he gave me my food, and stared at the dollar on the counter. "Miss?" he said. "Yeah, thats for you" i said. He looked at me like i was crazy. thats when i remembered that you don't tip for chinese FOOD you tip for chinese food DELIVERY. or a waiter at an actual restaurant, i suppose. not some guy working behind a counter at what would be equivalent to a McDonald's. embarrassing. so i'm never going back. i don't need their slanty eyes of judgment. (racial).

so i came home and cooked. and what a beautiful i prepared, if i do say so myself.

i know what you're thinking. "WOAH! Where'd you learn to cook a meal like that??? did you graduate from some sort of culinary school? is the plate sitting on a chair because you don't own a kitchen table or an end table? Are those fish filets from a box? did those waffle fries come pre-seasoned??? what brand of ketchup did you use? Do you and your roommates own an entire set of blue plastic cutlery?"

you know what, guys? I don't have time to answer those questions, ok! I'm really busy avoiding looking at my bank statement, not doing my own laundry and sitting next to 3 months of gas bills that haven't been paid even though we only own national grid approximately $6 each. I will tell you this. i'm going to make some man so happy someday.

Best part of the meal, however, is yet to come. When i went to the bodega next door to buy an orange soda, i was lucky enough to find the most perfectest desert:

just in case you folk in the back can't quite read that, its called a BUBU LUBU. Don't mind if i DOBU. this candybar seems a little too good to be TRUEBU. the best part about it....

it looks like Hanky the Christmas POOBU.

ok i'll stop.

but if you have any questions, feel free to call the number listed on the back of the candy bar. they seem to encourage it. (too small for a photograph, so i'll have to type it out) GET IN TOUCH WITH US. 18 77 22 47 374 A good Americanly formatted phone number. i can't guarantee it'll be a toll free call.

A post-pubescent meal such as this can mean one thing: I don't respect myself.

i did manage to use the oven all by myself. Gold star for me.

Detox: 2010

Its time for what has become an annual event at 86.3 the groove. our infamous 2 week Detox. Starting today until St. Patty's day, the 4 of us will give up substance abuse, fried food and i give up shitty television. Last year we were all 100% successful. I have nothing but complete faith that we will pull it off again. only one problem. I just realized we miscalculated and St Patty's day is actually 3.5 weeks away. i guess thats what we get for being such wastoids. we can't even put together a proper detox. we should have planned this when we were sober. shit.

"no you can't have my number, cus i lost my phone"

luckily for me, a homeless woman found it and called my parents 7 times starting at 6:30am. and anthony a little before 9. and bully's deli twice. which is super strange because i had ordered a sandwich from there on tuesday night, but don't have the number saved in my phone. i googled it out of curiosity when i got home. so she either scrolled thru ALL of my outgoing calls and found the only 212 number i've called all week, or she, too, wanted a buffalo chicken wrap. no calls to any foreign countries, so thats good. My parents called both my roommates, twice each, leaving voicemails about my safety and where abouts. i was sleeping soundly on drew's couch. I actually didn't think it was a big deal when i realized i had lost my phone and called it to check my voicemail and found out that some crazy homeless lady found it. a little surprised when she answered. I was caught off guard and could only think to say "Hello? do you have my phone?" Drew kindly informed me "if she says no, she's lying." The whole thing went a lot more smoothly than when i left my phone in a cab a few months ago, and the cab driver called roger, but didn't speak english and kept yelling "TELEPHONO" and then hanging up. Why even bother getting in touch with me if you're going to make zero effort to give me my phone back? or speak english. But apparently it was kind of a big deal to people like my parents. Crazy homeless lady informed me that she had called both of my parents, and apologized in case she got me in trouble. "no, they're cool. its fine" I called my Dad to let him know i had tracked my phone and was gonna go pick it up (AKA would not be borrowing $200 for a new blackberry) and he said "well i can finally breathe now. do you have any idea what its like to get a phone call from some crazy homeless woman that she's found your daughters phone in pieces in the streets of new york city and have no way to get in contact with you?" i can't really say that i do, but i would imagine it wasn't the most pleasant morning in my household. "hold on, let me get your mother so she can hear your voice." The crazy homeless lady had told my mother she found it "on these damn dirty streets." my mother called jared explaining 'apparently casey was in a not so great place last night..." which is really funny to me because i was at "avenue" in the meat packing district. i probably dropped my phone getting into the limo that took us home.

people who were contacted in order to find me/my phone for those of you keeping track:
-Mom
-Dad
-Anthony
-Bully's Deli
-Emily
-Jared
-Roger
-Matt
-Carrie
-Katie
-Harry
-Drew
-Kelly K
-Cory

so that was the great search and rescue mission of 2010. there was actually a lot of details that were left out of that story because i felt like it was getting too long and boring. but lets just say losing my phone was possibly a bigger deal than baby jessica falling in that well. which, all said and done, i really do appreciate. good to know so many people care about me enough to track me down and make sure i'm not dead for my parents.

thats not really what i wanted to blog about today though. I wanted to start a new segment of my blog called "things you shouldn't say to a girl to try to pick her up at a bar." But that lily allen song 'knock em out' came on and i thought it was a good title... and the rest is history. so... without any further ado... "things you shouldn't say to a girl to try to pick her up at a bar." this will probably, most likely, unfortunately, be a reoccurring segment of my blog.

"just because i can't remember your name doesn't mean i'm not obsessed with you"

"You seem like a girl i could talk to for more than 20 minutes without wanting to kill myself"

"your boyfriend doesn't appreciate your haircut"

"we kinda had a bet going to see if you girls were on a first date or something. we've been watching you all night."

those things are complimentary or interesting. Ok, i lied, the haircut line has a 50% chance of eliciting a response. i just personally refuse to reward any boy for a line like that where i have to start out my response with "i don't have a boyfriend." don't think you're tricking us with that. we know exactly what you're trying to do. it is not slick or subtle. but, the idea of my haircut being underappreciated is hilarious. I do like to reward things that are creative and funny.

Now, a one act play.

PLACE: Puck Fair. New York, NY
TIME: a couple weeks ago
CAST: The role of Casey will be played by Casey. The role of boy will be played by a boy at puck fair.
Lights up! and.. go.
Boy: "Can i buy you a drink"
Casey: "oh, no thats ok. actually my friends and i are about to leave"
Boy: "Oh come on, stay for one drink."
Casey: "No i really can't, but thank you for the offer"
Boy: "No don't worry about it, its on the company card."

Casey thinks to herself "where exactly to do work that i am considered a business expense?" slash "oh thank god! for a minute i was worried that you were gonna spend $8 of your OWN money on a drink i didn't want in the first place." but boy has walked away too quickly for her to chose which to say to him.

Boy reenters the scene with an 18oz bottle of beer and a glass. *note to the properties master: beer bottles don't exist in that size, but if this kid can make it happen so can you. Casey pours half of the beer in the glass and hands it to the boy. they talk (casey should not be portrayed as a complete bitch. she is actually being quite polite to boy's face), Casey passes the bottle she's drinking out of to the 4 friends accompanying her in an effort to finish it quickly and leave (note from the playwright. casey is kind of a bitch).

Boy: "I'm sorry 3 of my friends came over here to talk to you earlier"
FLASHBACK: montage of 3 boys separately approaching Casey as she's pleasantly talking with her friends to tell her how outstanding she looks. she is flattered, and very surprised, but not impressed. Cut back to present time.
Boy: I think i lost my job today, so they're trying to set me up with you because you're so hot."

And... Curtain.

what. how do you even respond to that?

Now, i do give guys that hit on me at bars a little bit of credit. it takes balls to walk up to me because i'm constantly surrounded by dudes where ever i go. it actually really doesn't happen that often, so you would think with the amount of complaining about being single that i've done that 'beggars can't be choosers' and i should treat these prospective future boyfriends a little more delicately. however, i am not impressed by 'game' at all, and i will not put up with it. i recognize that shit immediately and make sure do everything in my power to make it as difficult as possible for a guy to get any information out of me at all. or i just don't respond at all and find an excuse to walk away if i'm feeling courteous. but most of the time, i'm condescending as hell. as i should be. at least its a little more entertaining for me. i think pick up lines that aren't funny are just insulting to my intelligence. which is why i've listened to that lily allen song four times while writing this entry.

"Oh yeah, actually yeah I'm pregnant, having a baby in like 6 months so no."

"Umm... i'm like, getting married next week. yeah, seriously."

"Nah I've gotta go cos my house is on fire, I've hot Herpes, err no I've got syphilis..."

don't be surprised if you hear me saying any of those things to some rando at some point. in an english accent. also, don't be surprised when i die alone with my cat and gallons upon gallons of ice cream wearing some type of jogging running windpant attire.

i thought love was only true in fairytales

first and foremost. i'm a nerd.

now, on with the blog entry:
Last week, KTDM and I went to the Guggenheim to see their Motion and Emotion... presentation? series? it wasn't an exhibit. but i don't really know what its called. It was a speaker, Biological Anthropologist Dr. Helen Fisher talking about the science of love, and two dancers from the Paris Ballet doing 3 pieces about love. a cruel reminder that i'm not in love, nor am i a ballerina. Happy Valentines day to me. I've come to terms with the fact that i will never be an actual ballerina. I stopped taking ballet when i was 4, which was my first mistake. I had one last hoorah in high school with my " good witch of the north" ballet solo. I think i've milked that lack of talent for all its worth at this point. However, i did learn a lot about love that i think i will use in my future. actually not really. I learned about the brain systems that are engaged when one feels 'in love' and the evolutionary reasoning behind the human tendency toward monogamous relationships , and a little about why we choose the people we fall in love with. So not necessarily useful information in my quest to get married in the next 6 months so i can quit my job and audition full time, but I'm a huge nerd and loved every second of it. i was actually a little upset that i didn't have a pen and notepad when i was there. I'll probably buy all of her books. I won't bore you with more details. unless you ask me to. in which case, i may even pull out my old training folder from Olin Health Center and my Interpersonal Relationships class notes and give you a full blown presentation. i will get so excited as i'm talking about it i'll probably get tears in my eyes. just like when i talk about Egypt. which i actually don't know that much about, but am so fascinated by.

I will just say, Dr. Fisher has a quiz up online based from her book 'Why Him, Why Her.' Its one of the more accurate personality tests i've taken. If you're into that sort of thing. the website is http://www.chemistry.com/whyhimwhyher/ yes, it is on a dating site, but its still really interesting.

It was also a reminder that i actually could go back to school for something if i really needed to. I don't know if Biological Anthropology is the right path, as it sounds like a LOT more school and a LOT of science. But maybe a masters in Public Health and study Sexual Health Education. Working as a creative consultant in sexual health in college was HANDs down the best JOB i've ever had. those two words were not capitalized for dramatic effect in context of the sentence, just for the record.


But... who are we kidding. my true passion is still acting. or directing. but mostly acting. However, when i am rich and famous and ready to donate some time/money back into the community, i'm gonna start a theatre troupe like the one i did in college (In Your Face Reality Theatre) and travel to inner high schools. may have to tone it down a little for high schoolers though.

so... thats what i'm gonna do when i grow up.

sorry. sometimes i'm a nerd.

Sisterly love

More fun Stories about my priceless little sister Emily, with special appearance by my older sister, Kelly.


to begin... a picture. all three girls. making our "dad" face. For those of you who have never met my dad, this is what he looks like.

You would think that since i am older than emily by a full 17 months, that i would have had the upperhand growing up. and maybe even a little now... i am still older. and taller. This has never been true. i have always been the one that gets picked on. always the victim of the practical jokes. especially when emily and kelly join forces. I guess i am the middle child, and should have expected it.

the good news for me is, they're usually not very good at pulling off aforementioned practical jokes. For example, when i come back from the bathroom to kel and emily sitting at the table staring at me with huge grins on their faces as i sit down, and start urging me to drink my coke, i am smart enough to not do it. "c'mon Casey, aren't you thirsty? drink your coke casey, just drink it! its gonna get warm. its gonna go flat. you better drink it!" "what did you guys do to my drink" "nothing. just drink it." "... no. what did you do." "um.... maybe we put a baby carrot in it. " then they start cracking up, and i go dump out the rest of my soda.

or years later at my great-grandmother's FUNERAL i disappeared for a few minutes for whatever reason, and when i came back to my sisters standing outside the funeral home, they hand me my chocolate milk and say 'taste it its really good.' this time they had mixed in some cream soda into my chocolate milk. to this day they swear it was good. i was still mad.

the meanest thing they ever did was when we would all be going around spitting off jokes round-table style and after a few jokes, when i would say something, they would both stop laughing and just look at me. that's a terrible thing to do to someone's self esteem. they eventually told me that the DID do it on purpose, but it wasn't actually planned. it just so happened that they both decided to stop laughing at me on the same joke ALL the time. thanks girls.

but the all time best joke emily has ever played on me was my senior year of high school. Emily and I had just had our wisdom teeth out. The whole process really grossed me out. we all know how i feel about the dentist. and losing teeth. add on top of that the fact that there were dissolving stitches?!?! I'm sorry, i promised to go a full week without a story about me being a big baby, but i can't. that shit is gross. For those of you who have never had dissolving stitches, the adjective 'dissolving' isn't quite correct. the just kinda fall out into your mouth. 2 inches of gross stitches all of a sudden on your tongue. anyone who is NOT a baby about that probably has something wrong with them. SO, i'm eating one of my first meals of solid food, a plate of spaghetti, and talking on the phone (i think to chris hall, actually) i stand up, leave the room, come sit back down on the couch and finished my spaghetti. (we rarely had family dinners at a table... for reasons which are probably mostly emily's fault. an up coming blog entry i'm sure) Emily enters the room again and stares at me and laughs as if she's pulled off yet another practical joke.
C: what did you do
E: wasn't it funny?!?!
C: wasn't what funny?
E: the spaghetti
C: what about it? what did you do?
E: the stitches.
C: What are you talking about?
E: one of my stitches fell out. i put it on your spaghetti
C: (gagging) WHAT? no i didn't see it!
E: I put it right on top!
C: I was talking on the phone! i probably didn't even see it! i probably stirred my spaghetti when i sat down and never even looked it!
E: (look of absolute horror sweeps across her face) Do you think you... ate... my stitches?
C: PROBABLY! (panic, terror, puke, tears)
E: I put it right on top! how did you not see it? (laughing nervously)
C: How do you put stitches in someone's food and then leave the room?

I was pretty mad. and grossed out. and rightfully so. But even at the time, i kind of though it was funny, and she was pretty hilarious for doing it. So i told all my friends the next day at school. it was a pretty good story. what am i talking about 'was' a good story... clearly it 'is' a good story. or i wouldn't be writing about it in my precious blog. only the best for you, dearest blog.

about 6 years later, emily looked at me and said "remember the time you ate my stitches" which she liked to do from time to time to laugh at me and watch me gag. i answered begrudgingly 'yes.' then she looks at me in all seriousness and says "that never happened. i never put my stitches in your spaghetti." um. what? "i just thought it would be funny to watch your reaction if i told you i did. i would never let you actually eat my stitches." but... you let me believe i ate your stitches for 6 years. "yeah, i was pretty funny." emily, i told everyone i know that story . " I KNOW. i had to go around and tell EVERYONE you told that you didn't!"

so. emily is funnier than me. i've accepted that a long time ago. but she's also a better actress than me. i believed her for SIX YEARS. and she's way more dedicated than me. i though i'd do anything for a joke.. but geese louise. retracing my steps and correcting the story to everyone i told! oh yeah, and letting the joke play on for SIX YEARS if i hadn't mentioned that. damn, she's good. it actually wouldn't surprise me if in 6 years from now she told me it was true, that i, in fact, did eat her stitches my senior year of high school. at which point i will punch her in face.

hats off to you, heendog.

Train-y

more backlogging of fun train stories. This is from last spring sometime. I was heading to work on a tuesday, back in the Arrojo Studio days when i didn't leave my house til 10. At one of the stops, a 6'3" tranny get on and stumbles to the seat across from me, and sits down next to a Hasidic Jew. already a great start to my day. The tranny is clearly coming off of a 5+ day bender, and is searching in her purse for something. then she pulls out a chandelier earring, attempts to untangle it and places it in one of her ears. then she finds the other one in her purse attempts to put it in her ear, raising her arm up to her ear, but half way through, stops. because she has FALLEN ASLEEP. her arm very slowly drops down to her side, as her head starts falling to the side, and her entire body starts shifting towards the Hasidic Jew. He looks terrified. but doesn't really do anything. she then jerks awake and sits up, resumes earring application, but falls asleep again. and shifts toward the Hasidic Jew again. I am at this point leaning forward in anticipation, jaw dropped, eyes wide. If she woke up and saw me, she probably would have beat the shit out of me for so rudely staring/judging her. i would have deserved it. i was not being subtle at all. Then at the next stop, she jerked awake, stood up, and stumbled off the train. I don't think she even knew where she was. I was a little disappointed. i would have liked to have seen how that whole thing played out. Even without her ever falling ON the h.jew, it was still so fantastic to watch. i heart new york.

I got a pocket full of dreams, baby i'm from New York

I'm tying to really crack down on this whole 'acting as a career' thing. let me tell you. not coming to me as easy as the whole 'acting' thing. nor am i nearly as passionate about writing cover letters and formatting my resume and interviewing as i am analyzing scripts and developing characters and playing. I would just make movies with my friends for the rest of my life if I thought i could survive on peanut butter and saltines. but we all know how much i like to splurge on things like ramen noodels and chef boyardee. oh, and rent. I'm left with 2 choices. Finding a rich husband, or an agent. Honestly in this city i don't know which is going to be harder. Luckily, there are books about how to find an agent (that i trust way more than that stupid millionaire matchmaker woman who just tells women to straighten their hair and not talk about anything interesting or funny or smart). Last week, I spent a couple of hours at borders doing research, then finally bought a book called "how to act and eat at the same time." it was $20, which wasn't a great start. there goes my weekly budget for food, toilet paper and contact solution. thanks, book. however, it is super informative and well written. and it confirms everything i learned in my theatre auditioning class in college (thank GOD for rob roznowski. my hero and soulmate) which is a really comforting feeling. but there's so much i don't know about the business side of acting in film that makes me want to cry. in fact, i have cried reading that book on the subway. twice. cross my heart and hope to die. despite its overwhelming--ness, i would recommend this book to my fellow actor friends pursuing careers in film/tv/commercials in either NYC or LA. I just recommend reading it half a chapter at a time with a box of tissue and a glass of wine by your side, and a supportive friend on speed dial.

i also recommend to myself finding one story to include in my blog that doesn't contain me crying or having an anxiety attack or being a huge baby. that can't be attractive to potential rich husbands. i'm gonna make that my goal this week; do something fun and/or funny that reminds my loyal readers that i'm fun and funny, again. or... for the first time.

so. acting. career. get on board, friends. its coming in a big way. i would think. at some point.

can i un-fire my manager?
can i find an agent to find me an agent?

I"m gonna try to just remain positive. win over the hearts of producers? i can totally do that. old men love me. impress directors with my fabulous acting abilities? piece of cake. I'm a fabulous actor. Schmooze casting directors. schmooze is my middle name. i can wine/dine/69 with the best of them. not to mention... the jugs. no body in their right mind would turn these away. so i've got that going for me. which is nice.

now i just need to get my foot in the door. turns out, not as simple as it sounds. so i will spend millions of dollars and hours sending my resume and headshot and reel to every agent this side of the hudson. which sounds like zero fun. but i guess it'll be easier than going back to school for... well... i'm not good at anything else. so i guess thats not even an option.

stay motivated
stay focused
stay strong
go the the gym
As your body grows bigger your mind grows flowered it's great to learn cus knowledge is power!

dammit. already failed at the whole focus thing. see! i told you this was hard!

the motivation to be an actor has never faltered or failed. hence my upcoming talent show with actor/roommate jared f. shirkey. motivation also exhibited in my willingness to perform a monologue to anyone with a willingness to stare at me for 2 minutes. seriously, just ask. i will perform any time, anywhere. loves it. its the business part of 'show business' that can suck my balls.

motivational quotes courtesy of Katie DM's facebook page:

"Thankfully, perseverance is a great substitute for talent."
~Steve Martin

"Helen Hunt is consistently uninspiring, so I get great confidence from that."
~Cole Escola

motivational quotes courtesy of my facebook page:

"When you perform you are out of yourself-larger and more potent, more beautiful. You are for minutes heroic. This is power. This is glory on earth. And it is yours nightly."
~Agnes de Mille

"And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was greater than the risk it took to blossom."
~Anais Nin

and lastly a motivational quote from a painting Emily got me for christmas last year:

“Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'”
~Mary Anne Radmacher

I'm not writing these quotes as advice for you or because i think you'll like them, my dedicated blog readers. i'm writing these down (um... typing them out?) because it is your responsibility to remind me of this when you see me crying on the J train.

or, you can find me rich husband. or a corporate sponsor. the choice is yours. 1,2,3... ggggoooooOOOO Bayside!

More fun with Roger D. Wingfield

Luckily, Roger being my roommate and friend, not only do i get the professional pics posted in my last entry. I'm lucky enough to get these gems as well. As we all know, i pick 'funny' over just about anything else in life.




sometimes i dance during photoshoots. i'm sure most professional models do.





My face is almost permanently like this in my apartment.



probably my favorite picture ever taken of me.



hi!



ok, i make this face a lot at home too.



and probably this one

from the desk of Roger D. Wingfield.

i decided that until i decide if i'm gonna start a 'professional' blog, i'm gonna post profession info on here.

Here' some pics from an impromptu photoshoot with Roger Wingfield. I hope you likey.









Casey: Sorry, my eyes are a little watery. these lights are SO bright.
Roger: Casey, we all know you're crying because Beyonce's on. There's no need to lie about that around us.

I got my feet on the ground and i don't go to sleep to dream...

nothing about that title is true. clearly, i don't have my feet on the ground, and apparently dreaming is all i do when i spend 8 hours on my mattress every night.

Transition into dream sequence. cue fanciful music and a hazy fog that enters the scene.

It started out with me in a kindergarten class, as a student. Apparently I failed kindergarten on a technicality and therefore every other grade i had passed, graduated from, every diploma i've received, etc etc, was null and void. I needed to retake kindergarten. which i was more than happy to do. "Retake Kindergarten? Oh sure! that seems reasonable and fair." And it wasn't like Billy Madison where it was hard for me in any way, shape or form (although i think my teacher may have been miss lippy). Everyday, I went to kindergarten just like the rest of the kids in my class. Until one day, the teacher asked if I had my parents sign my progress report
"Oh, I'm really sorry! I just keep forgetting" i said
"well, Casey. its really important that we know that your parents know how well you're doing." said the teacher.
"Yeah. but i am doing well. i didn't FAIL this class in the first place. so does it really matter?" i said.
"Yes Casey. this is part of the class." she said
"Can i just sign it myself? I'm 25." i said
"No. it needs to be your parents." she said.
"I don't live with my parents. I'm my own legal guardian. i think i should be able to sign it by myself." i said.
"No, Casey. You need to have your parents sign the paper. you're the only one in the class who hasn't gotten it signed yet." she said.
then, dream Casey was really hurt, or embarrassed, and got really defensive and finally broke down and tried leveling with the teacher adult to adult. i said "listen, these kids have it way easier. they live with their parents. their parents probably open their backpacks everyday to see whats in it to talk to their kids about what they did that day at school, like good parents are supposed to do with small children, and sign it and put it back in their backpack without the kids even remembering to ask them to sign it in the first place. I don't have that luxury. I barely even remember to open my backpack when i get home because i NEVER have homework. So i would have to remember about the slip on my own, and somehow, like, FAX it to my parents to have them sign it and have them FAX it to me or the school or whatever. ok? its harder for me. I'm old enough to have a kid in kindergarten, or teach kindergarten. i have a bachelors degree in interdisciplinary arts and humanities from Michigan State University, where i was consistently on the Dean's list. I've been my own legal guardian for 7 years. i should just sign it myself."

good argument, dream casey. only because you didn't graduate from kindergarten when you were 6, you don't really have that bachelors degree, which was the problem in the first place. you did attended classes at MSU for 4 years and get good grades. props to you.

so, then i was in the airport food court, which was apparently the cafeteria for my kindergarten class, looking for a bathroom. Every stall i went into was filthy. Like, over flowing with poo. And i was about 6 months pregnant at this point in the dream. don't worry, it made sense to suddenly be 6 months pregnant. Then i ran into this really cute boy with curly blond hair who worked at the airport as one of those guys directing planes on the ground with all the hand movements and the orange sticks and the headphone things. I was too embarrassed to tell him that i was in kindergarten, so i told him i worked at the sbarro in the food court. (awake Casey thinks this might be more embarrassing). He then told me there was a bathroom at a park down the street. and he walks me to it. We're instantly, madly in love. he keeps me asking me about the baby's daddy. Sadly enough, he's not in the picture. But cute blond airport boy loves me, and will help me in any way he can. a true gentlemen. as we walk to the park, we decide we hate our jobs at the airport and we're gonna run away together. its a beautiful moment. then, i go into the bathroom. but again, poo everywhere. until i find one clean stall but it doesn't have a toilet, but rather a bidet. I decide to squat over it and go number one out my pee-hole (classy lady even in my dreams). as i lift up my dress, a jacket and a blanket falls out revealing to me, and cute blond airport boy who walks in on me squating over the bidet that i'm NOT PREGNANT. I do the right thing and come clean, telling him i didnt' work at sbarro's, but was actually a kindergarten student, and i (apparently) wasn't really pregnant (in my defense i wasn't intentionally lying about that). he's, of course, super understanding (as he's the love of my life) but tells me that he really liked the idea of running away together and starting a family. BAM. deus ex machina. Dream Casey is really 6 months pregnant. We go look at mobile homes next to the park for $1,500 because thats the amount of money that the two of us have together. Turns out you can't get a very nice mobile home for that amount of money. As i'm looking at all theses shitty mobile homes, and pop-up trailers, dream casey is contemplating if this is what she really wants. was she ready to give up her career (as a kindergarten student?). Dream Casey decides even though i hate all of the pop-up trailers we've can afford, and we have no income, and am not sure if i'm really ready to have a baby, that i should see how things play out, because cute blond airport guy is all about this kid. And maybe its a fair trade off to raise a kid in a home where his parents really love each other and did everything they could for the baby even if he's raised dirt poor in a shitty mobile home. then i woke up.

get the fog and music out of your head.

hmmm.... wonder what that could mean in real life. there's a lot of shit going on in that one rather lengthy dream sequence. who knew my subconscious was that-- introspective-- even without a kindergarten education. One thing's for sure. i now know why i never feel rested when i wake up in the morning.

(on a weird personal sad note... usually when i wake up from a dream about being preggo, i am all freaked out about the possibility of being preggo. even when i was 14 and there was absolutely NO way of me actually being preggo. i woke up from this dream a little freaked out that i wasn't preggo. because i'm not. and i'm positive that i'm not. if you wanna know why i'm SO sure that i'm not, ask carrie. she knows the all the dets of unfertilized uterus. but... what if i never get pregnant? what if i'm never in the position to make that decision that i've spent so much time worrying about where i have to decide between an acting career and having a family-- because i'm never a successful actor and i never fall in love?!?!? OH. MY. GOD. sorry. i just passed out from lack of oxygen to my brain. ok. enough weird personal sadness. i'm gonna stay positive. i'm too young to worry about any of that. plus... like its hard to get knocked up. again, just ask Carrie. not because she's pregnant, because neither of us are. as much as roger would like to think that both of us are. always.)

Now. I must give credit where credit is due. Emily is the one who came up with the phrase "number one out my pee-hole." one time she said she had to pee, and my dad got angry and said to my mom "i don't understand why all of our kids talk like sailors." Em said "sorry. i have to go number one out my pee-hole." gotta love her. and my dad for not shooting one of us in our youth.

Has the city been abnormally quiet, or are the voices in my head getting louder?

Things i like. Team work with a revolving door. You're coming in? i'm going out! lets make eye contact and figure out a entry time and tempo that works for both of us. thank you, sir. You make the rocking world go round.

things i don't like. people who for whatever reason stand in front of a revolving door. I'm going to NEED to stand right there in about 0.5 seconds.

things i don't understand. Why do all of the Hasidic Jewish women in the city have the SAME stroller? There's a lot of things I don't understand about Hasidic Jewish culture. I'm completely infatuated with the questions i have to the point where i'm not sure i even want answers. I just like pondering.

things that gross me out: the idea of kids losing teeth. i know every does it. i did it at one point myself. That doesn't make it ok. have you ever really thought about it??? its really gross. they're bones. i think. they should be secured in your mouth. i understand the difference between baby teeth and grown up teeth. but seriously, evolution, get on it. there's got to be a more effective way of dealing with that. i don't have to do that with any other body part. I'm afraid if i ever have kids and they come to me with a loose tooth, i won't be able to keep my cool. "Yes, Bobby. i know you think its super sweet and you want to play with it with your tongue just like every other 6-year-old on the planet, but you need to know how harshly i am judging you right now. Make mommy proud and shut your mouth before i throw up. I'll call your dad and see if he can leave work early to help you out cus i don't want to talk about it anymore. OH, except this one quick point. there's no such thing as the tooth fairy. You can just throw that shit away when it falls out. I'll happily pay you $20 to not have to pick up your defunct body parts. I'd rather not have you sleeping with it under your pillow that close to your face tonight even though it was in your mouth 5 minutes prior. I don't know why, Bobby, its just different. and you're gross." (reason #347 why maybe i should never have kids. or need to marry a man who will be an amazing dad. but probably just shouldn't have kids)

those are the things i'm thinking about this morning. that, and how much i'd like another cup of coffee. I'm also wondering why my boss wants me here at 10am when he doesn't come in til 12:30. more time to blogggg!

My baby takes the morning TRAIN.

Part 2 of funny things that happen on the train is about to commence. i hope you are ready.

Well, first, last week i saw a man drinking rice waiting for the j train. like... drinking it. that's not funny at all. i was pretty horrified.

A couple weeks ago I had a rather frustrating trip home due to construction and weekend changes i had forgotten about. i ended up taking the brooklyn bound j train from E.Broadway to Jay street transferring to the A to broadway junction and transferring to the J train which takes me to my apartment. Also, I didn't have my ipod, and we all know how anxious i get on 1 hour train rides that should take 20 minutes without a little muzak to settle my nerves. Yes, it was probably easier to walk the 8 blocks from Drew's apartment to the J train. but i was wearing heals. and... then i would have never met the wonderful woman who was singing a song (that i'm assuming she wrote) that goes a little something like this: cus i gots to pop it. cus i gots to drop it. drop it. drop it. drop it.
I forgot how it actually went. but i know the drop it part was in there multiple times. and i know it wasn't "my lipstick is poppin" or "pop lock and drop it" or "drop it like its hot" or any of the songs that exist outside that woman's head. I tried my hardest to watch the dance that inevitably accompanied this song, but there was some asshole blocking my vision. This woman got off at Jay street as well and started saying "quarter-quarter-quarter-quarter." I looked and she had this huge tangled mess of brown strings. Ok. it is totally worth a quarter to buy whatever it is that she's selling. I gave her a dollar. she did not give me change (rude). I was gonna offer for her to keep the $.75 anyway, but still. Turns out it wasn't the whole clump of strings she was selling, but just one... very simply braided into a bracelet.

 

Best dollar i've spent in a while. and luckily i didn't get her song stuck in my head for very long (unfortunately not long enough to still remember it, but also not long enough to annoy the shit out of me and possibly ruin my day. a fine line). it somehow morphed into Beyonce's "Diva" relatively quickly.

It reminded me of one of my top two favorite train moments ever occuring about a year and a half ago. It was fall, and there was this group of 17 year old kids talking about funny things that happened in their church choir rehearsal that day. for no reason whatsoever it really pissed me off. I'm generally a supporter of teens engaging in positive after school activities. then they started actually singing. They were actually pretty good. still. ugh. Every stop of the local 'A' train was an internal battle of trying to decide if i should jump to the next car and try to struggle to find a seat on a crowded train, or stay seated after a long day of work and attempt to put up with the gay youth. I mean happy. Luckily, i stayed. because guess what happened next. a homeless woman began singing along. now she was rocking the lead to whatever gospel song they were singing at the moment and DANCING while the kids were supplying some good A Capella backup vox and a steady beat. This brought quite the smile to my face. She then informs us that she writes her own music, and starts singing the tune of jingle bells, but lyrics about being in a woman's shelter and regaining ownership of her life. only, of course the lyrics didn't make sense. and unfortunately it was pretty evident she did not have much control of her life. i would pay any amount of money to have had a way to record that. then there's a dance break. I'm gonna do my best to describe this, so bear with me. and maybe after this story you'll be motivated to bare with me (a little joke for you English majors out there). The lady gets down on the ground. of the subway. in the 'push up' position and starts basically humping the ground, but in a circular motion. first clock wise, then counter (a la Alex Sedrowski doing the Backstreet Boys dance for those lucky enough to have witnessed that). This is the best subway ride of my life at that point. But don't worry, it gets better. A homeless man comes over and tells her that she doesn't know what she's doing and that he can do better. He says he won't do it for free, but after enough coaxing, he sure as hell does. A homeless dance off on the subway. right in front of my seat. I am audibly laughing. i cannot contain my joy. Then they start singing again. The man is doing his best to sing along to Jingle Bells. only he doesn't speak English. So he's making up words not even i can make out even though he's standing directly above me, holding on to the pole above my head. What i do know is that there are parts of that song that he is singing directly to me, and without a second thought i join right in for the audience participation parts. he says laughing all the way (or something close to that) and i say "HA HA HA" he says oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh and i yell "HEY!" Who knew the Holiday spirit could completely sweep over an entire 4 benches of a subway car in the middle of October. I heart New York.

I guess what the moral of the story is that even on the worst rides, open your G.D. eyes because something amazing could happen at any moment. You, too, could be the proud owner of a $.25 bracelet possibly made out of some homeless lady's weave or find yourself in a sing-a-long/dance-off with 2 homeless people on a breezy Autumn New York day.