Bobo's, here I come!

Dude, didn't I just go to bed 5 hours ago?

Anyway, Merry Christmas! Ye with kiddies are probably already awake. Ye without, stay curled up in bed. I'm heading to Kansas which means no posting until the new year, but I'll be thinking of you - and taking notes.

Just hear those sleigh bells jingling!

Christmas Eve at the McCody's: A bottle of champagne, homemade fried chicken, and Freaks & Geeks on DVD.

Who needs mistletoe?

"Ur" everthing to me

I found the greatest thing yesterday on the subway - a neatly folded square of a note left on a seat. The scrawl is a bit shaky (the subway isn't conductive to fine penmanship) but it reads:

I know what I want
for Xmas

the gift of your
open embrace

the heartwarming
sound of ur (sic) laughter

the smile on ur (sic) face

memories & secrets
for sharing

(something unintelligable) made just
for two

First draft of a marriage proposal? Really romantic rap lyrics? While it's not the best piece of writing, there's something heartwarming about this little thing. It's so unprofessional and unpolished I can't help but love the poor guy. (Still, must resist - Urge! To! Mock!)

Merry Christmas, mystery dude. I hope she says yes.

Hookas and broadswords

Montreal in winter is wonderful if you ski or like French food. Neither of us ski but we do happen to eat, so that's what we did pretty much all the time. We'd have breakfast, then go out and have lunch, then we'd go back to the B&B to kill time before dinner. Let's hear it for French food! Seriously, slather enough butter and garlic on anything and it'll taste great. You could cook a turd in butter and garlic and it'd probably taste swell. (Case in point: escargot.) At a restaurant called Laloux I had a meal so sexy I almost stood up and did a little dance. We don't normally eat out but on the few occasions when we've opted for someplace fancy, I inevitably make a beeline for the cheapest thing on the menu. Since the cheapest thing on this menu was calves' brains, I opted for scallop stew. My husband, however, believes in the power of vacation and ordered the big boy - filet mignon at $31. THIRTY-ONE BUCKS. FOR AN ENTREE. $31 is like, 30 cans of catfood. That's more than we spend on most meals. I couldn't believe it. I almost asked for a divorce.

Turns out, there's a reason a cut of beef costs you $31. And that reason is because it is the MOST DELICIOUS THING YOU WILL EVER EAT. That crap they call "filet mignon" at catering? Please. I actually made Matt hand his plate over. I took it out of his grubby little paws and made him eat my scallops. If we hadn't been in public, I would've licked the plate. If you're ever up Montreal's way, I highly recommend.

Other highlights:

- My favorite store ever. A Canadian film and television costume shop went out of business and sold the entire contents of their warehouse to a tiny little man who opened a store right near our B&B. It was all from the 1940's and 50's, all one-of-a-kind (since each piece had been created for a particular film) and all of it PRISTINE. Shoes! (Size 4! People were freaking tiny back then.) Bags! (I know it's cruel but come on, crocodile!) Hats! (PERFECTION!) And racks and racks of dresses and jackets and coats, all reasonably priced. Seriously, I wanted to roll around in the stuff, it was so great.

- Our B&B was lovely, although picking a room with a private bath in the hall wasn't my wisest move. The breakfasts were great but I think the owner was starting to run out of tricks by the time we left. (Croissants followed by waffles covered in Nutella? Oof.)

- For some reason, Montreal is inundated with medieval shops. It must have some huge SCA scene because you couldn't spit without hitting a shop selling hookas and broadswords. And Matt had to go in to every last one.

Mostly we sat around reading and waiting to eat. By the end I was desperate for a treadmill but all in all, not a bad way to spend a few days.

By the way, take a plane. 13 hours on a train sounds romantic until all the toilets get stopped up.

You pull the STRINGS to make her move, Tom.

Yeah, this is exactly what extremely pregnant women want to do. Good call, dude.

This looks about right

MONTREAL (AFP) - Record snowfall forced the cancellation of 200 flights at Montreal airport, school closures and caused havoc on roads. More than 41 centimetres (16 inches) of snow fell on Friday, Andre Cantin, a spokesperson for Canada's meteorological service, told AFP. The storm will go down in history as one of the biggest snowfalls in a single day in Montreal in December, beating a record of 37.8 centimetres (15 inches) on December 27, 1969. Some 200 flights were cancelled at Trudeau International Airport, which remained closed despite improved weather late in the day, according to airport officials. Clearing the streets and sidewalks of snow in the city was expected to take some 3,000 staff five days, according to the mayor of Montreal. About 2.14 metres (seven feet) of snow usually falls on the city each winter.

Did I mention the snow?

Some brief thoughts before bed on our n-EH?-ghbors to the North:

- It's cold.
- So freaking cold.
- Really fucking cold.
- Good food.
- It sure is cold.

More tomorrow. Thirteen hours on a train... My ass will never be the same.

Date up?

I know you're all bemoaning the fact that Nicole was voted America's Next Top Model instead of the similarly monikered but otherwise clearly superior Nik, but I need your help: Title my column!

Assuming the editor likes what she reads, the column will follow Matt and I on our weekly date night. Because Gothamist doesn't allow first person, I'll have to focus less on us and more on whether or not the places make for good dates.

I need a title by tomorrow and I haven't even started writing yet. Ideas, anyone?

I gots mischief in my blood!

Last night was my last night with a certain catering company. (We'll call it "Smeat Smerformances", just to keep you guessing.) I've decided that I've had my fill. No more hating the jobs (and myself while on them). No more peanut butter and jelly with one loaf of bread for 300 waiters (when they remember to bring it. Or when they don't accidentally substitute olive bread. Have you ever had peanut butter and olives? It's a taste sensation.) No more being snapped at by captains and party planners who make big bucks and do no work. (I'm talking to you, Pool Pusher and Fat One.)

I remember the times, fuming in a bathroom stall at particularly godawful parties, when I'd imagine all the things I'd do when it was my last day. Pocket some expensive wine, eat all the hors d'oeuvres I want, maybe pinch a guest, just for the hell of it... All very Bonnie and Clyde, Norma Rae type stuff.

Instead, I found myself at a rather sedate office party. I was in the kiddie room, so even if I'd pinched one of them they'd probably just think I was playing. I was hoping for a jerky captain but instead I had everyone's favorite (I'll call him "Bubby") and didn't have the heart to mess with him. It was just so nice and easy and civilized that the only feistiness I managed was stealing five tea bags and some Stay Free pantyliners from the rest room goodie basket.

Bye-bye, gigantic catering company. I will not miss you.

Blinded by the cute.

Thanks to Stef and Michael, I now have the uncontrollable urge to baby talk my screen.

At least he tipped.

Didn't get home last night until 2 am. Who the hell has a party that goes until midnight on a Monday?!

Really fucking rich people, that's who.

Now I've worked in some fancy homes, but this place took the cake - and that's saying something. It was a four storey brownstone in Brooklyn Heights with a two bedroom carriage house in the back. (To give you an idea of the price of this thing, studio apartments in this neighborhood go for around $400 K.) It had a wine cellar, three kitchens, two live-in housekeepers and - of course - the requisite elevator. The fourth floor had been converted into a dance studio for their little girls, complete with regulation ballet floor, barres, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The place was insane. They had TWO HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-FIVE GUESTS. Can you imagine fitting 275 people into your place? (Do I even know 275 people?)

Insane.

Sure hope he was speaking metaphorically

Overheard at the post office -

Guy on cell phone: "Monday is Amy's party- you going? Uh-huh... Wednesday I hang myself..."

Fancy!

It's a Christmas spectacular! Make sure you watch until the end - it gets totally out of hand. Their poor, poor neighbors. (We won't even discuss their electric bill.)

Thanks to mom and Stef for this goodie.

Let nothing you dismay!

So - anybody else not feeling the holiday this year? It's not that I'm blue, I just can't get over that it's, like, here. I never understood why grown-ups didn't enjoy Christmas - how can you hate a holiday where you get stuff?! - but between working doubles every day and trying to squeeze in shopping and pretending to keep up with laundry and-and-and, I'm just not in the mood. Clearly, the only thing that will cheer me up is a REALLY INDULGENT CHRISTMAS LIST!

In no particular order:

- Old love letters, pre-1940's
- Victorian silhouettes, preferably great ones of people's profiles
- Letterpress classes
- A magical ability to not get mad and quit when I suck at letterpress
- A puppy
- Massages. Preferably once a week.
- Original work by Picasso, Chagall, the guy who invented mobiles, Heather Smith Jones, and Avedon
- A vacation home in Maui
- A vacation home
- A shaker rocking chair
- Wine tasting classes
- Dinner at Artesinal or Grammercy Tavern
- Floor to ceiling bookshelves
- Super cute boots
- Heirloom Tomato perfume from Demeter or Hesperides perfume from Fresh
- A never-ending supply of everything from Kiehl's
- Illy coffee and one of those adorable, shiny cappuccino machines
- A miniature orange tree or a giant, ancient ficus
- Someone to fill my iPod with really cool songs so I can pretend that I don't actually listen to crap
- Pilates classes
- A personal chef
- Art from friends/family members
- Someone from California Closets to come in and fix our storage sitch
- Writing classes from Media Bistro

And you?

It makes me rub my hands with glee!

I love this silliness more than I should. I don't know which is sadder - the fact that Mariah Carey is willing to spend New Year's Eve with strangers or the fact that no one's bid on it.

So, which would you pick?

Glee! GLEE!

This is an actual casting.

ONE LIFE TO LIVE

SEEKING: [JOLIE] (Early-Mid 20's) Female. French, Italian - All Ethnicities.
Voluptuous, beautiful, sexy, confident model. Jolie is trying to take on the world - one person at a time. (RECURRING) NOTE: Must be able to act.

An open to letter to Jessie, the kid across the hall

Dear Jessie,

Please get up in the morning.

I know it's cold and dark and you'd like nothing better than to stay in bed. I know that the idea of sleeping through your first two classes seems cool since you're a young teen and all and studies have shown that teens need almost as much sleep as toddlers, but please - for the love of Pete - just get up. Because if you don't get up, your nightmare of a mother will just keep screaming and screaming and screaming in her ear piercing, Asian-inflected, only-dogs (and-nice-peaceful-neighbors) can-hear-it shreak until you do.

Every morning we go through this. Hell, every night we do too. (Although at night it's usually about you being a "fack up!" even though you seem like a really nice kid.) We know you hate her. Hell, we do too. She's got a pinched face and never smiles or says hello no matter how many times you say it while passing in the hall but Jessie please - just. get. up.

Seriously. Dude. She'll shut up if you just get up.

Eiderdown pillows... hot chocolate... America's Next Top Model...

Sorry so little posting. The schedule, she is crazy. Yesterday I had an audition before babysitting then catering, then today I'll meet with my audition coach at 8:30 (that's a.m.) before heading off to babysit then cater, so I can get up tomorrow for a full physical before my audition - after which I will babysit then cater.

Yesterday the baby fell asleep on my lap and left a puddle of drool.

I need a nap.

I'm hoping for stationary and some really cool boots

FIRST SNOW! (shuffle, shuffle, shuffle)

FIRST SNOW! (shuffle, shuffle, shuffle)

I love the first snow! Especially on the day I plan to go Christmas shopping!

Of couse I still can't stand up straight because my back is broken in two (IN TWO, I SAY!) but Santa's on his waaaaay!

(shuffle, shuffle, shuffle)

Channeling my inner Afrikaaner

Between Tom Cruise and his crack-brained idea to buy a home sonogram machine and Nick and Jessica finally (publicly) biting the bullet and Brad going out and adopting Angelina's mini rainbow tribe and Laguna Beach's seemingly levelheaded Talan getting engaged to Kimberly Stewart after two weeks of dating (and then - phew! - breaking it off just as fast) and Christina's nuptials (actually I don't care about that one so much) , I don't know where to begin!

How's about the fact that I have an audition coming up where I have to play 24 different characters? A South African 6 year old, her mother AND father, her 8 year old Afrikaans neighbor, an Irish cop, and 5 different black people, ranging from a 4 year old to an 86 year old gardener with a mangled hand, ALL WITH SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT AFRICAN DIALECTS? Dude, I can't even do one African dialect!

"Acting challenge" schmacking challenge. Where's the 'bots?

I. Love. This. Play. (That's robot speak for "I love this play")

Yesterday I had an audition for something so spectacular, so awe-inspiring, so fan-freaking-TASTIC that I can hardly deal. It was for a play called heddatron (all lower case intentional) and it's a cross between Ibsen's Hedda Gabler and... wait for it...

Tron.

Yes, Tron.

Which makes it the most awesome play ever.

They're creating real, working robots for the play! Life-size, talking 'bots, man! I mean, come on! How spectacularly awesome is that?! SPECTACULARLY AWESOME!

God I hope I get a callback!