RE: Prick

Needles never bother me. Unless, that is, the repercussions of said needle includes possible governmental notification of infection. Then the needle terrifies me. Despite the best efforts of my doctor to assure me that I have little to worry about (see: name of blog), every year, the appearance of this needle induces a two week trip into hysteria culminating in Clarissa slapping me around a bit before dunking me headfirst into a bucket of water so I stop singing songs from Rent and quoting Bono.

It’s not pretty.

This year it was worse than ever for one reason…my boss. Now it would seem to me that if an employee of yours was wearing a bandage that was clearly from having blood drawn, you wouldn’t comment on it. This is apparently not the stance my boss takes on the issue. Not only did he give me a hard time about the bandage on his way to the bathroom, but on the way back from the bathroom he asked me why exactly I had blood drawn. I’m sure that reasons why I might be taking blood tests are of such little consequence to my boss that their explanation can be interrupted by his restroom schedule but then why bring them up at all? But he did and to my amazement he didn’t let up after I attempted to change the subject. Instead, he took the ever classy route of asking me, “Whatcha gettin’ checked for STDs? Ha ha ha.”

“Yes.” (why should I be the only uncomfortable one in this scenario)

A flicker of “oh shit” did cross his face but he rebounded quickly and stubbornly plowed on with his joke by discussing the merits of monogamy.

And now I’m torn. On one hand I would love to let him assume I have something and make it as uncomfortable as possible for him. The holiday party could be a lot of fun if I walked about with a jar of Carmex and force him to try my food. On the other hand, this isn’t really a situation where you want there to be any confusion. So I guess then the only question left would be; how does one go about notifying their boss of such a thing? Perhaps an email?

Subject: Whew

Or maybe I’ll just parade past his office throwing fist pumps and humming Journey's "Don't Stop Believing."

The Battle

If I was to paint a certain picture of myself I would tell you that in college I was not only a cheerleader but also the head of my sorority. True story. The problem with such stereotypes is that it doesn’t account for the full picture. A very important aspect of my personality is that I can go from zero to nerd in about 3.14 seconds.


It’s a paradox. While I work in the glamorous world of film, I have a burning desire to study computer programming. I spend countless hours a year deciding upon and designing my homemade Halloween costume. In the pursuit of the perfect workout playlist I find myself saying phrases like “It needs to be more organic.” Since I got DVR three years ago I have consistently scoured the guide in the hopes that the original Transformers cartoon movie from 1986 will air and I can preserve it in all its glory until that random night I accidentally stumble into the box after one too many tequila shots. (Hitherto known as the Bronx Wailing).


So yeah…nerd.


Another important thing to note is that I would never do anything to jeopardize my friendships. That is why I can’t tell you details about the industry event a friend of mine invited me to last night. However, I will say this, not since the discovery of pixie sticks mixed with Jolt have we had reason to get so excited. Come May…we nerds will never be the same.

This Week the Gang Goes to Philadelphia

It was supposed to pour this weekend. Ten minutes after the Team boarded the bus and headed off to Philly for Jake’s birthday, the skies cracked and the rain came plummeting down. Of course this meant that the folks we picked up at the second stop were drenched. But we sat smugly in the back of the bus knowing that the one pair of socks we had each allotted for this trip would remain toasty and dry on our feet. One girl in particular must have forgotten her umbrella because the second she boarded she squished down the aisle sopping and stood near Ramez waiting for the bathroom. Aaron, or the Philadelphia version of Aaron, took this opportunity to comment on the proximity of Ramez to wet girls, thus setting the tone for acting like complete degenerates. Luckily, the rain let up and by the time we got to Philadelphia the sky was bright because…

It’s always sunny in Philadelphia.

This was said a minimum of four dozen times during the 24 hours that we were in Philly. So much so, in fact, that I wondered if this phrase in Philadelphia was akin to the Sex in the City tour buses in NYC that (to my amazement) always seem to be packed. Something tolerated but lame by local standards. (The answer’s really in the question.)

But that aside, Philadelphia was a lovely city. The minute we got there we walked one block and into an Irish pub selling Miller Lite for $1.50! As a group who are used to paying $6 a beer, we quickly realized that if you include the $23 roundtrip bus fair from our city to our new favorite city, it would be cheaper to take the bus on a Saturday morning, drink all day, then get back on the last bus back to NYC that night than it would be to drink an entire day in New York. Wow. Score one for Philly.

We continued to drink heavily for the rest of the day and finally called it a night at 2:00am when it became clear that asking a girl, “Have you met Jake?” inspired the same response from the surrounding Philly guys as if you told them that you just pissed on their girlfriend and she liked it. Packing it in seemed like the right move.

We exited Philly the following day unscathed and, like any good trip, having learned a little more about ourselves. “Philadelphia Ted” plays American Gladiator with the tubular pillows furnished by the hotel when you walk into his room. “Philadelphia Clarissa” knows a surprising amount about Cheech and Chong. And “Philadelphia Quinn” will involuntarily check out another girl's boobs if three of her guy friends are commenting on them.

Travelling…it’s so enlightening.