Tonight was Glee's prom episode (yes, now you know I watch Glee). I’m not as big of a fan of the show as I used to be, but I’m happy Jonathan Groff had a long overdue guest starring role again. But between this and EW’s list of “19 unforgettable TV proms”, it made me reminisce about my own prom.
Confession: I was THIS CLOSE to not going to prom. In fact, my mind was made up even two or three weeks before the actual prom. You see, I was somewhat of a wallflower in high school. But I did have friends from a variety of cliques, including kids that were popular, nerds, jocks, what have you. And while senior prom seems to be some sort of rite of passage, I was not remotely interested in going. My mom nagged me (in the kindest way a daughter could be nagged) and asked me to reconsider. She said I would regret not going, and looking back, I guess she would’ve been right. I mean, prom was definitely fun. Was it anything to write home about? Not really. But it was an experience that one could only have in high school. So I went with my h.s. crush Carson (who played on a rival high school tennis team):
Ignore the fact that my hair seems to be some sort of brownish red in this photo…and that I have obligatory “hair up in curls” prom ‘do. But I’m smiling. So I guess I was happy. Once again, mom was right on this one. I haven’t thought about prom in years…although now I’m wishing I kept in touch with my date through the years. He was a cutie.
[Ed Note: In recent visits or phone calls with my parents, we seem to reminisce a lot about the past and my childhood. My mom has since urged me to share these stories, hence, a new series in blogs posts titled “True Stories From Yesteryear”. You can check out past entries on dressing up like a bride on national TV, the replacement cat my dad got me, sneaking into Dodgers games and Demonic Smurfs]
I’ve always considered myself somewhat of an overachiever. I usually take on more than I can handle. At the same time, it helps keep me organized and focused. I’ve mentioned before that I had short of a dozen internships in college. Well one of those was for WXRK in New York City…aka the now defunct K-Rock (former home of the Howard Stern show before he left for satellite radio).
That’s me on the left with fellow intern Carmen (who went to Seton Hall, if memory serves). We worked in the promotions and programming department. I spent my mornings in the office, assisting with everything from paperwork to organizing CDs for promotional giveaways, to going out with the street team. I much preferred the afternoons when I got to help out in the studio, but one of the coolest things about working all day were the random Howard Stern sightings (as well as the other personalities and guests). In fact, I distinctly remember one time on my way to the traffic department (which was dangerously close to the studios), I smelled pot. It was also like 10am. So I asked who was on the Stern Show that day, and low and behold it was the most obvious answer in the world…Snoop Dogg.
In the afternoons I’d help out former DJ Will Pendarvis with screening phone calls and assisting with grabbing the CDs and commercial carts. Could Will have done all of this on his own? Absolutely. But he humored us and was so great to all of the interns in the afternoon.
Lesson learned? I always thought it would be a blast being a disc jockey…and I still think so. But I also know that I never want to work in radio. Everyone I’ve met wants to get out and seems miserable for the most part. That said, I look back fondly on my days at K-Rock. It was one of the best internship experiences I could’ve ever hoped for.
[Ed Note: In recent visits or phone calls with my parents, we seem to reminisce a lot about the past and my childhood. My mom has since urged me to share these stories, hence, a new series in blogs posts titled “True Stories From Yesteryear”. You can check out past entries here]
Fun fact about me: When I was in college, I had not one, not two, but TEN internships. I don’t know if it was because i was an overachiever or indecisive about what I wanted to do post-college, but needless to say it provided for a lot of stories. One of which includes this one…
My sophomore year of college, I had a friend who was an intern at New Line Cinema. As a former Universal Pictures intern, i knew all too well about promotional stunts for upcoming movies. So when she asked me to don a wedding dress to promote the Chris O’Donnell/Renee Zellweger movie The Bachelor, I hesitated. Then she said the magic words, “You’ll get paid $50 for each appearance”. Now, as a college kid who made about, oh, $80/week (if I was lucky), that was all the motivation I needed. Basically my attitude went from “I don’t know…” to “I’m getting paaaaaiiiid??? When and where do you want me to wear that wedding dress?”
(embarrassing photo of a 19 year old self after the jump)
[Ed Note: In recent visits or phone calls with my parents, we seem to reminisce a lot about the past and my childhood. My mom has since urged me to share these stories, hence, a new series in blogs posts titled “True Stories From Yesteryear”. You can check out past entries on sneaking into Dodgers games and Demonic Smurfs]
When I was a kid, all I wanted was a pet. What I really wanted was a dog, but my brother and I got the “your mother and I will be the ones that end up taking care of it” speech. So you can imagine my excitement when my parents caved and finally got us a pet cat (hey, you take what you can get, right?). First came Fluffy, a fancy persian cat that was in a word, a bitch. That’s right, Fluffy was a stuck up fancy pants persian, so she was no fun. To be honest, I forget what happened to her. I think a family friend ended up taking her. Fast forward to Tabby:
My Aunt Virgie had a cat named Samantha, and she had kittens (that whore). So I begged my parents for one of the kittens. They actually caved and let me and my brother keep one, which we named Tabitha (Tabby for short). A few short months after we got her, I remember my dad was taking me and my brother to school (I was probably around 8, my brother maybe 5 or 6) and while in reverse in the driveway, my dad stopped the car. “STAY IN THE CAR”. At the time we had no idea what had just happened, but my dad had RUN OVER THE CAT. So he called my mom out and told us she would take us to school while he took Tabby to the hospital so they could “do an operation on her so they could save her life”.
To be completely honest, I remember being slightly anxious, but I can’t quite remember how upset I was. I think I was okay with the whole thing knowing that my dad took her to the emergency room and she was gonna be ok. So naturally, my face lit up a few days later when my dad brought Tabby home from the vet. I remember vividly how she was wrapped up in bandages around her waist. I thought, THANK GOD! SHE MADE IT! MY KITTY IS HOME! And Tabby ended up being a wonderful house cat throughout our childhood.
FAST FORWARD to about two years ago. This happened when I was about 8 or so. So when I was about 28, my dad and I were on the phone (we talk at least 4-5 times a week) when we were talking about Tabby for some reason. I don’t know what sparked the conversation, but I brought up the time that dad ran her over and saved her life.
Me: You remember, right?
Dad: Yeah, but Tabby died.
Me: WHAAAAAAT? No she didn’t, you took her to the vet and I remember she came back….and…(wheels turning in my head)…WAIT A MINUTE!
Me: You REPLACED HER WITH A NEW CAT???
Dad: Well I had to. I ran over the other one and she died.
Me: (jaw on ground) This WHOLE TIME? Tabby I died and got replaced by Tabby II and I didn’t even know about it?
Dad: What does it matter, you didn’t even know the difference. And you were happy, weren’t you?
And so it goes. The above pictures are of Tabby II. I don’t even think we got photos of Tabby original. My dad didn’t reveal this little tidbit until about two years ago. When I told my aunt, she laughed, since she was the one who had helped my dad find a replacement cat. Looking back, I really appreciate what my family went through to make sure my brother and I weren’t sad about my dad running over our cat. My family is awesome and I love them for it.
Back in the summer of 2001, I lived in LA when I was trying to figure out which coast to settle in post-college. My living experience in LA makes for a completely different story (and it’s a good one) that I’ll share some other time. I went to LA with one of my close college friends and on our last night there, we decided we wanted to go to the Dodgers/Mets game. We even went with a few cutie guys we’d manage to make friends with (one of whom even drove up from San Diego to join us!).
However, when we got to Dodger Stadium, the parking attendant was like, “you guys have tickets right? Cause the game is sold out.” I’m sure we all had blank stares on our faces, but we were like, “oh yeah, definitely,” and lied straight through our teeth.
So we cooked up a plan to buy tickets off a scalper, but that didn’t pan out (or maybe we didn’t want to pay that much money). So we tailgated in the parking lot and around the 4th inning, we saw a couple leaving the game and one of the guys asked if we could have their ticket stubs. They were like, “sure”. I was a little perplexed as to why my friend D would want to have their ticket stubs, but then he was like, “follow my lead”. All FIVE of us went up to the gate (with TWO ticket stubs) and told the security guard we had an emergency and had to run back to the car (to be honest, I forget what BS excuse we gave that would be a believable “emergency”) and that in the chaos, we left our other stubs in the car, but here were the two of them and we were sorry, blah blah blah. I don’t know if he was just being extra generous, or if he actually bought the crap story we concocted, but he let us into the game!
We had an incredible night (and if memory serves, the Mets did win…I’m a Yankees fan, but I was pulling for the NY team that night). To this day, I still can’t believe we literally talked our way into a game with two TICKET STUBS, but it’s a night I’ll never forget.
[Ed Note: In recent visits or phone calls with my parents, we seem to reminisce a lot about the past and my childhood. My mom has since urged me to share these stories, hence, a new series in blogs posts titled “True Stories From Yesteryear”]
About a year ago, my dad sent me a couple of CDs with old family photos. Photos that, quite frankly, I hadn’t looked at in a long time. One of them included this gem…yours truly, age 3(?…maybe 4).
The time: 1984. This particular photo was taken at my grandma’s house. The toys that I’m hugging with all of my might were my two favorite toys at the time: My Miss Piggy doll (HUGE Muppets fan, even to this day) and my Smurf doll. These two were my Buzz and Woody equivalent. Whenever I went somewhere, they would come with me.
THEN, one day, my mom heard this story (which is now classic urban legend) about Smurfs being demonic. Yes, you read that correctly…as in POSSESSED by the devil himself. I think one story was about a Smurf doll coming to life. Another one involved Smurf curtains in a child’s bedroom in which the Smurfs jumped off the curtains and danced around the room. As soon as my mom heard these stories, she promptly RIPPED THE SMURF DOLL FROM MY ARMS AND THREW IT IN THE GARBAGE. Well, she might as well have. Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. The point is, she took it and threw it away, and it was never to be seen again. I imagine some poor scenario like the incinerator scene in Toy Story 3 (spoiler alert).
And so, this story is in memory of my Smurf plush, 1983-1984. RIP. NEVER FORGET.