Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Resolutions

In the interest of all that is expected, herein lie my New Year’s Resolutions.  I know what you all are thinking (all two of you, including hubby) . . . her New Year’s resolution is to be discovered by Tina Fey and NPH.  Wah wah wah.  Alas, while that is a resolution I hold near and dear to my heart, it frankly will not be on this list, because that is not a resolution, but in fact the meaning of my very existence.  I consider New Year’s Resolutions to involve tasks and goals that you desire, but you also consciously or subconsciously know that you will likely give up on said tasks and goals by March at the latest, January 2 at the earliest.  So drum roll please . . . below, I present my list of resolutions I plan on breaking by March of 2010.

1. Traveling to Queens and Standing Outside of the 30 Rock Studios for 30 Hours Wearing Nothing but 30 Intricately Placed Diamonds:  Technically, I understand that this task sounds like a “Discover me, Tina Fey” task.  But I had to recategorize this task as a resolution when I realized that the procurement of 30 adequately-sized diamonds would not be realizable, especially since the hubby and I failed to win at our last Super Lotto attempt.  Therefore, it becomes a resolution, and I plan on easily breaking this resolution by January 2.
2. Undergoing Extensive Plastic Surgery In Order to Look Like David Burtka:  For those of you who don’t know, NPH’s boyfriend is David Burtka.  For those of you who know me, I don’t look like David Burtka.  However, if indeed I looked like David Burtka, I could perhaps position myself outside of NPH’s home—watering the plants, for example—and NPH could mistaken me for his boyfriend, ask me whether I wanted to have the leftover lamb vindaloo for dinner or go out instead, and I would respond by providing him with my script and running away as the real David Burtka stumbles out of the shed in which he accidentally locked himself into.  Given that I need only find a qualified plastic surgeon who would be willing to engage in such pro bono work, I give this resolution until March 15.
3. Not Exercising:  I like to think outside of the box and adopt resolutions that make me one-of-a-kind.  Being a fitness fanatic, I resolve to sit on my ass and remain as immobilized as possible so my buttocks can expand and engulf the remainder of my body, giving a whole new meaning to the word, “asshole.”  Who am I kidding?  I give this resolution until 9am on January 1.
4. Become a Choreographer and Join Nappy Tabs:  Once I accomplish this goal of becoming a choreographer specializing in general hip hop and that subset of hip hop called lyrical hip hop (which, as I’ve been told, does not actually exist), I will join Nappy Tabs, and we will create a new choreography trio called Nectarized Nappy Tabs.  We will take SYTYCD by storm, to the point where each and every dance of each and every episode will be choreographed by us, and I will reap said financial rewards from this endeavor and reinvest those monies into finally being discovered by Tina Fey & NPH.

For my three readers, may all your New Year’s Resolutions be as attainable as mine.  May you bask in the shame of your resolution failures, and may your outlandish delusions of fame and fortune overtake your already-eroding concept of reality.  Happy New Year folks!

Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!

Adventures of the Struggling Writer — Day Three

This weekend, I watched the film, Julie & Julia—primarily because it starred Meryl Streep and the chick from Enchanted.  I mean, Meryl Streep is like the most celebrated actor of all time.  She’s kind of like bacon.  If it’s got bacon, you know it’s gonna be good (except for that awful bacon dessert made by Kevin aka “the MIT guy” on Top Chef—can we say EW?).

I had no idea what to expect in watching the film, but I become quite envious of the Julie character (I was going to say spoiler alert, except it’s not a spoiler to state the complete obvious), because she effectively became rich and famous by blogging.  Julie earned her accolades by going through the Julia Child cookbook, “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” and blogging about her attempts at accurately following the directions of the iconic American Frenchie, Julia Child.

So I’ve been inspired by Julie to continue in my pleas to Tina Fey and NPH who, to date, have yet to acknowledge my existence.  Although, in a moment of sheer insanity, I did believe that the most recent HIMYM contained NPH’s secret signals to me—you know, when he continually winked at the camera.  I was totally like, “Neil!  I see you!  I love you!  I will carry your lovechild!  I will travel to LA to find you and follow you in a totally legal and non-stalkerish fashion!”  I digress.

What can I, an attorney with outlandish dreams of eventually becoming an EGOT winner, possibly write about, on a consistent basis, that would yield in the achievement of my laughable fantasies?  I certainly don’t have the patience or wherewithal to cook from a fancy French cookbook every day (unless someone were to provide me with a substantial advance . . .).  I could write about my attempts at mimicking dance routines from SYTYCD, but such shenanigans cannot be adequately described in just words alone—just a couple weeks ago, I tried to complete at least 5 pirouettes in sequence and found that my body would effectively become frozen at about 3/4 of a pirouette, causing me to tumble to the floor in a heap of all that is not graceful.

Perhaps that, then, is why Tina and Neil have not discovered me.  I don’t have direction.  What shall I devote my blogging to in the upcoming days until my pending occupational nuptials with 30 Rock or HIMYM?

Screw it.  I like my current theme.  Discover me, Tina Fey & NPH!!!

10 Days for NPH — Day Eight

Last night, the new season of So You Think You Can Dance really kicked off as the 10 couples danced for America’s votes.  I have to say that I absolutely, whole-heartedly, and unequivocally LOVE this show.  I cannot get enough of it, and for the record, I am thrilled at the fact that the show will begin its new season this fall (and can Natalie please try out again, kill it in Vegas week, and get on the damn show?).  

For those of you who have been following my blog, it is very apparent that I have delusional aspirations of becoming a Hollywood screenwriter.  I mean, being a lawyer is awesome.  I essentially engage in verbal and written warfare all day, thereby vicariously reliving the days of my youth when I secretly thought about how cool it would be to actually fight someone after school at the church.  Speaking of which, I used to always think it was  a bit ironic that the delinquents of my school chose the purportedly sacred grounds of a place of worship to engage in physical violence.  Yes, I was a bit precocious.

Anyways, if Tina Fey NPH never hears my pleas, perhaps I should strive to meet another unattainable goal?  So Tina Fey NPH, pay attention to the following ultimatum (please).  If you do not respond to my pleas, I may just have to refocus my maniacal and delusional attention.  And where will I refocus my pleas, you ask?  

I will be a lyrical hip hop dancer.

Yes, I can hear the laughter traveling through the Web.  I can sense the mockery and chuckles.  But I ignored the jeers of my peers when I first announced that I would be making these pleas to Tina Fey NPH.  Granted, the pleas have so far yielded little in substantive response—I’ve gotten a few encouraging comments; the hubby hasn’t left me; and a flight attendant gave me extra peanuts as we shared stories of delusional fantasies.  So it’s not like I’ve come out completely empty.  So if I took the energy and devotion from scriptwriting, and invested that passion  into my lyrical hip hop training, I will be a force to be reckoned with.  To dabble in this delusion, I will take a three-pronged approach.  First, I will study the lyrical hip hop dances on So You Think You Can Dance (including watching them over and over again in order to memorize the movements and practice in front of the TV).  Second, I will enroll in a lyrical hip hop class—preferably one that does not require any technical training.  Although I did spend much of college digesting the choreography of various NSYNC songs, including Bye Bye Bye, Tearin’ Up My Heart, I Want You Back, and It’s Gonna Be Me.  Perhaps that could be considered “technical” training.  E.g., if my instructor were to ask me to give a nice “Bye Bye Bye” fist pump, I could do that in my sleep.

Finally, as the final step in my delusion investigation, I will engage in street performance.  I will set up in a populated area and perform various lyrical hip hop routines (preferably self-choreographed).  I will place two containers to accept donations.  One container will be labeled, “YOU’RE BAD ASS” and another container will be labeled, “YOU’RE BAD.”  That will enable me to gain an objective perspective on my dance training.

Finally, for some inspiration, here are my favorites from last night’s SYTYCD.  P.S. DISCOVER ME, TINA FEY NPH!!!

10 Days for Tina Fey — Day Four

On this day four of my 10 Days for Tina Fey series, I’d first like to thank GLW for starting a facebook cause to further disseminate my pleas.  Should the facebook cause lead to Tina Fey actually reading my script, I will krump in front of GL.  Too bad I already krumped (aka epileptic chicken dance) at my wedding, but this krump will be far different because I will put myself into costume and pretend that I’m actually auditioning for SYTYCD.  I digress.

Speaking of reality television competitions, the hubby and I were watching a DVR’d episode of American Idol this morning, and it got me thinking.  I’ve always found it strange that a contestant will “sing” to the point of blood actually dripping out my ears, and when they are unequivocally informed that singing is not a career that should ever be pursued, the usual response is to sing again, and even louder.

So I thought to myself . . . what if Tina Fey actually reads my script and tells me something along the lines of, “Oh hell no.  Bitch, you really should stick with the legal profession.”  What would I do?  Would I try, try, and try again until Tina Fey became so fed up with me that she allowed me be a runner for the entire cast?  Would I hang my head in defeat and attempt to find a silver lining by asking if Tina Fey needed any legal assistance?  Would I become confused as to my ultimate goals and respond like an Idol contestant by doing my best version of “Vision of Love,” with a staccato wave of my right pointer finger in the air and shoving my left finger in my ear as if I had a faux-earpiece?

Upon reflection, I now cannot mock the aforementioned Idol contestants, because I too would utterly embarrass myself and my entire family for one more chance at impressing Tina Fey.  Like a broken record, I would break out every joke in my repertoire, hoping that something would stick and change Tina Fey’s mind.  I would moonwalk, do the funky chicken, and make shadow puppets, praying that one of these otherwise useless “talents,” would induce a laugh.  I would not care if the induced laugh was one of discomfort, of Tina Fey feeling pity for the shameless woman baring her comedic soul.  Like Meatloaf circa 1993, I’d Do Anything For Tina Fey (sans the But I Won’t Do That, because I will — believe me, I will).

Savor my devotion.  Discover me, Tina Fey!

DWTS — The Tragedy of the Group Hip Hop

Monday’s group hip hop routine was just laugh out loud hysterical.  I’ve watched it several times in glee — giggling at Lance’s faux-mullet, chuckling at that kid from Hannah Montana go left when he was supposed to go right, and downright falling over at that soap opera person’s pathetic half-step behind attempts to follow the crew.  If you’re not a fan of DWTS, I understand.  But this video is just hilarious:

Out of all the professional dancers, I have to say that Lacey kicked ass — which is no surprise given her tenure at SYTYCD.  Here are Lacey and Kameron dancing hip hop well (go to 2:30 for the good stuff).

And here are my favorite Lacey performances:

For years, I’ve had a secret dream of becoming a backup dancer for a major urban recording artist.  I realize that I have a bum knee; that I’m not flexible; that I am uncomfortable in skanky clothing; and that I just can’t really dance.  My resume would be slim, to say the least.  But if Sarah Palin can be VP, I can surely dance backup for Justin Timberlake.  Thank you Governor Palin for keeping my hope alive!

Why Do Young People Flock to Obama?

As November 4th nears, I present to you one reason why young people flock to support Senator Obama:  He is in touch with the interests of the youth.

Case in Point No. 1:  The infamous “Fist Bump,” which, in this writer’s view, is simply a hipper way of giving the now archaic “high-five.”  Is “hipper” a cool word?  I’m too old to know.  In examining this picture, one can see how this fist bump is completely genuine — note that Senator Obama and the First Lady to Be are looking each other directly in the eyes, indicating that the two have been bumping fists for quite some time and have synchronized the critical timing and knuckle placement of the bump.  Imagine Johnny Mac bumping fists with Cindy McPill — call the doctor because I hear some bones breaking!

Case in Point No. 2:  Dusting dirt off his shoulders.  Nothing demonstrates a person’s determination and resilience than dusting dirt off your shoulders.  It’s one thing to say that Johnny Mac and the Moron’s campaign of lies will not stop you in your tracks — but to the younger generation, a couple simple swipes off the shoulder will more than suffice to convey those words.

Case in Point No. 3:  The Dance.  Barack Obama is not afraid to have a dance party — with the whole world watching.  Having watched Obama dance, I’m pretty confident he has no formal training.  As an avid follower of dance shows like SYTYCD and DWTS, Obama’s moves are a bit elementary.  He combines a mild sway with a gentle crossing of his arms.  Not too much going on there, but endearing to the youth of America — many of whom are also not blessed with the gyrating hips of Justin Timberlake.  I mean, for every Justin, there’s got to be 1,000 Jonathan Knights.  Michelle Obama, on the other hand — that lady looks like she’s got some moves.

To end, a brief lesson in logic — All (well, most) young people love Obama.  I am young (sort of).  I love Obama!

Lancey’s Premier

Last night, we saw the premier of Lancey (aka Lance Bass and Lacey Schwimmer) on Dancing with the Stars.  For those of you who know me, you know that there was a point in my life in which I was obsessed with NSYNC–a point in my life that continues to this day.  In college, my equally obsessed roommates and I would schedule our lives around NSYNC TV appearances, while I would man the VCR remote to capture all the moments so we could watch the gyrating hip action on loop.  I recall the first time I watched NSYNC N the Mix.  At the time, I was skeptical.  I mean, what group could possibly compete with New Kids on the Block, the quintessential example of all that is pop goodness?  Then, my eyes landed upon this man–who you all know to be Mr. Snake in the Pants:

Yeah yeah.  Some of you might be saying–you liked THAT guy?  Because I watched N the Mix, and that dude had bleached blonde nasty hair!  To all of you mocking me, I need only point you to the picture above.  Like Tyra’s ability to pull out the model in small town girls, I saw the hotness in bleached blonde JT.

Anyways, this is not about JT.  Last night, it was Lance’s time to shine, and boy did he get a bomb-diggity partner!  As an avid fan of SYTYCD, I was ecstatic to hear that the show had reached out to the bombshell that is Lacey Schwimmer.  Below, I present to you their first live performance:

In watching this video, bear in mind that Lance was quite possibly the worst dancer in NSYNC–I mean, Chris had more hip action than Lance.  For a good example, see below at about minute 2:45.  In college, we dubbed this move by Lance, the “throll.”  Not quite a thrust.  Not quite a roll.  But good try Lancey.

So given Lance’s fabulous performance last night, I’m quite proud of him.  You go Lance!