My Tinseltown Life Revisited

In the clerical music business, secretary-based experiences are considered especially hilarious. In New York City, the undedicated blogger who communicates these vivacious comedies is a member of an elite squad, know as the Story Revisiting Unit. These were her stories.

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My Week 1.

Day 1: My Red Carpet Welcome. Or Not.

After underestimating some killer morning traffic, I arrived at the door of Notting Hill Music 10 minutes late. No one answered my call to get buzzed in, but since the door happened to be unlocked, I walked right in. Now door #2 to the actual office was locked. I peeped in through the mail slot to find it completely dark and deserted. I stand there for a few minutes deciding what to do, and as I reach for the door to leave, someone approaches. A white man struts my way, sporting classic postman look and swaying a fedex envelope at his side. I follow him into the office, thinking that the postman has just saved the day. Instead of handing me the envelope, he walks into his office and makes a phone call to the people who were supposed to be there to train me. Turns out he was one of the directors. He tells me to keep myself busy until the others get here, and then proceeds to watch a sitcom in his office.

One lady finally arrives, and we begin training. She tells me how to transfer a phone call. End of training part 1. She goes into her office to "finish something real quick" while I go back to twiddling my thumbs. An hour passes. I walk up to her office and ask if I can do anything. She says no. I ask if I should answer the phone. She says no, and asks me to give her two seconds. I sit back down. Another hour passes and my thumbs have doubled in size from all the twiddling action. Now I'm beginning to starve. I decide to raise my hand and ask to be fed if she didnt come out in half an hour. Luckily she let me go 15 minutes later.

After lunch, we resume training. This time for real. She tells me how to do everything related to Royalties, then turns to face her computer. She turns back and asks "What's the problem?"

"Oh now?" I say."Yes."

And so begins the grunt work for my new career.

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Day 2: Sha hien...

I am immediately hit with a bank deadline and two stacks of papers to process, and intently try to finish in time. In the meantime, a client walks through the door and sits down, waiting to speak with our artist consultant. He begins mumbling, I'm not sure to himself or at me, but I had no time to chat. I continue working through his mumblings, and the word "boyfriend" catches my ear. I turn curiously and he asks, "Why don't you got a boyfriend?" I shrug and wonder if I'm emitting some sort of "single and ready to mingle" vibe.

Minutes pass. "You got any water back there?" he asks. I open the fridge and as I hand him the bottle of water he intentionally grabs my hand and stares at me grinning. I check to see if I had been turned to stone. Not knowing what to say, I manage to spit out "That was very tricky..."
I return to my seat, and the mumbling resumes. I hear key word "asian.""Uh...you like asians?""OH YEAH. Love em!"I continue typing, slightly horrified.

Minutes pass again. Of course he begins his mumbling and this time I catch the word "spoil.""Um no, I'm not spoiled..." I say."I'll take you for the weekend and spoil you." This time I turn my head to hide my hysterical laughter.

Thinking that was his grand finale of mutterings, I go back to work. He gets up. Instead of grabbing the door knob, he reaches for a post it, and writes on it. As he walks out (I'm on the phone) he looks at me, points at the post it and nods. I look at the post it, which reads "Sha hien, and his phone number."

If anyone is interested, I'd be happy to hook you up.

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Day 3: My Body Guard

"Mr. Postman" and I are the first ones in the office. He goes to the fridge and grabs some water, and casually asks me, "Was that guy overtly hitting on you yesterday?" We have a laugh about it. He says "Next time, give me the signal and I'll kick his ass."
"Oh, silly Mr. Postman," I think to myself as I imagine it in my head.

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I don't think anything will top the happenings of my first week.

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Will Offend for Food

Walking out onto the street after a meal, a homeless man approaches the corner asking people for food or money. Before we could turn a cold shoulder, he shouts, "OH! ASIANS! If I knew I wouldn't even have bothered!"

As we crossed the street he continued to mutter racial slurs about Asians. Freeze frame. Now this is what we call a self-fulfilling prophesy.

Dick In A Bun.

It is 2 AM on an average Friday night. We've hopped to yet another bar, and in a bout of exhaustion my friend and I collapse into two open chairs near the entrance. I see another one of my friends being lured further into the bar by a small blond, whom we later find out, used my heavy-set friend to scare off another creep, then proceeded to thank him with unwelcome and inappropriate molestation.

Meanwhile, as my friend and I await the return of the rest of our friends, we are approached by two guys, whom on any other night, might have been appreciated for their looks and charm. They introduce themselves and engage us in seemingly harmless small talk, and I humor them while my friend rests miserably on my shoulder.

Guy 1: Wanna see a text?
Me: Incoming or outgoing?
Guy 1: From our friend.
Me: ...Sure?
Guy 1: It's a bit inappropriate.
Me: Ok...
Guy 1: He JUST sent it to us and we wanna know what you think.
Me: (Shrug) Alright.
Guy 1: You really wanna see?
Me: I guess?
Guy 1: Ok Ok, just, Ok.
Friend: (Irritated sighs)

He opens his cell phone and shows me a picture text. And it is in fact, a dick in a bun. A hot dog bun to be precise. So I sit there, processing the fact that a stranger in a bar just exposed his friend's dingily dongily to my friend and I. I respond in a playfully sarcastic manner, as not to sound completely bewildered.

Me: Wow. Tasty looking dog.

My friend curiously peeks at the picture text, which is still lingering in my face. Her response.

Friend: So what. A hot dog.
Me: ...
Me: Uh...

I whisper to her silently that it is not a hot dog, and her innocence explodes in unrestrained repulsion. Our friends finally return and we exit the bar. A hot dog stand on the corner sizzles loudly, and I realize that hot dogs in New York will never be the same again.

Love From the Legends

An email circulated to my program about an informal conversation with a singer-songwriter. The name was not disclosed to us. Thus I had to decide if this anonymous artist was worth missing 2 hours of class time, equivalent to $1,000 of tuition. It was a gamble. It could have been someone as unworthy of my time and money as Katy Perry, or someone as legendary as Neil Diamond.

Turns out, it was good ol' Neil. And so a small group of us sat nervously in a room with the folksy legend as he spoke about his life and advised us on ours. He is an endearingly grumpy old man. I shook his hand. He patted me on the shoulder.

I have now received a hug from Bono and a pat from Neil Diamond. Life is nearly complete.

The Smell of Decay

I had recently been noticing tooth pains when drinking hot or cold fluids. This feeling seemed to have dissipated, but has now returned, with additional pain upon chewing. I had hoped to continue my decade long cavity-free streak, so I took it upon myself to double check through the trusted internet whether my symptoms indicated cavity. Here were my disappointing findings:

Step 1: Recognize teeth sensitivity as a possible cavity indicator. If you have tooth pain when eating or drinking things that are hot or cold, you could have a cavity. Constant tooth pain is also a symptom of a cavity.

As if having to come to terms with the high possibility of having a cavity wasn't worrisome enough...

Step 4: Note whether you have an unpleasant smell coming from your mouth. This can be the odor of decay. Often you will also be able to detect a bad taste as well.

Have I been sporting natural bad breath or a rotten-smelling mouth? I'm not sure which one to hope for. Bad breath and a cavity. This leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Literally, apparently. Rough day.

Asleep on the Subway

My contribution to a blog about subway sleepers.

http://asleeponthesubway.tumblr.com/post/72500987/there-is-something-really-sad-about-this-picture

...I swear I have a heart. It just wandered off in Manhattan on the 6 Train.

Edit: Apparently my post has been deleted. I have been censored.

Edit: See Michelle's January 22nd post http://mlee525.tumblr.com/

To Belch or Blog

In 2006, after many failed New Years resolutions, I decided the whole concept of resolutions was a futile, disillusioned attempt for self-improvement. Consequently, when 2008 rolled around, my imperfection-accepting self had developed a sorely addicting new habit: belching.

My first belch came inadvertently, but spiraled into frequent eruptions of conversation-disrupting, mood-killing, gastronomical monsters. The habit was reinforced after watching a friend receive accolade for the most shockingly blatant belches in the history of womankind. However, instead of the "Niiiice," high-fiving responses that my friend received for hers, mine came with head-turning, horrifying shrills of "OMG THAT IS SO GROSS." After months of reprimanding looks of disgust, I thought it might be time to revive the New Years resolution and take back my femininity through belch censorship.

A short-lived thought. Days later, I found the liberating effects of the belch are far too satisfying to give up. I dare you to let one rip and not fall in love with the glorious feeling.

Thus came another failed New Years resolution. However, because I cannot accept defeat 21 measly days into the new year, I have decided to replace it with a resolution everyone can enjoy: Keeping up with this blog.

The frequency is yet to be determined, but with my last entry being early October, I can promise improvement.

Happy Belated New Year. Good luck with them resolutions.

And to my fellow female belcher friend, rock on.