First of all, congratulations! When Dave told me he was going to pop the question, I was really happy for you two. I instantly got him into a playful headlock; “What are you doing you dumbfuck?!” I asked jovially. “You’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe it,” I laughed. Then I bought him shot after shot as we talked about what a great move this would be in the right direction.
We discussed the many, many flings that we each had since we were young men. How meaningless they all were! Lacking all the joy of commitment, the wonder of emotional togetherness, just pure, free sexual encounters. And we drank some more (as you may have noticed when he came home and vomited on the couch). And I know we’ve covered this already but I want to reiterate that it was I who put that girl’s number in his pocket, as a goof. But I now realize the goofs are completely over and done with and it’s onwards and upwards to a goofless existence.
I also just want to say: you’re getting a great guy. I’ve known Dave a long time and trust me, this is the best time to be his fiancee. If for no other reason, he’s already “been there done that” with so many things, you don’t have to worry about him trying anything new. The last six months it’s been rarer and rarer for him to express any desire to do blow in a public restroom or smoke pot to cure a hangover while at work.
I do have one small favor to ask you. As you know, Carrie and I have been together about as long as you and Dave. But when she heard about your engagement, I kind of implied you had been together much, much longer. Also, with the most subtle implication, I kind of suggested that Dave was a very lucky guy, not just because of the many things that make you an awesome potential wife, but also because you’re a tad bisexual and open to introducing college-aged females into your bedroom. Again, this was just an implication, but just in case Carrie asks about these things, please understand that I’m just trying to keep her expectations realistic about our own relationship. I’m not asking you to lie, but it would be helpful for everyone if you could find it in yourself to go along with these certain implications.
So congratulations again and I can’t wait for the wedding! It’s going to be great to get all the guys back together and have one last wild night with Dave at the bachelor party before it’s all over. We promise to deliver him to you the next day in one piece and keep the drunken wrestling to a minimum (though I can’t make any promises!).
Your new “brother-in-law,”
When I was a young woman, I decided that I wanted to save the world. I wanted to do something important, nay, I wanted to do the most important thing in the world. So I, naively, went to medical school.
I thought maybe I’d go to Africa and help starving children. Or I’d go into research, help find a cure for cancer or AIDS. But as time progressed, I realized there was something out there that was the most important work I could do on this Earth.
Around age 38, I heard a call from God. God called down to me and said, “Margaret.”
“The most important thing that you can do on this Earth I have given unto you is to instruct out-of-work actors in New York and L.A. on how to have careers in show business.” And so I left the medical profession and this is what I’ve dedicated myself to since hearing from God that afternoon.
And so, my out-of-work actor disciples, I say unto you, I can give you the career you want as an actor, even a movie star. Yes, I have the secrets. All you have to do is send me a check for $1,549 and begin your journey from unemployed to Oscar recipient.
“But Margaret, I don’t have that kind of money, I’m unemployed,” you might say. Then I guess your career is not important to you. I understand. I mean, not all of us have heard a call directly from God. So I understand if you think this is not the most important thing in the world – that you find work as an actor – as I do. After all, I gave up a career in medicine and let go of what I thought was important work in order to dedicate myself to this worthy cause. So if you’re not able to part with a little money, I guess you do not share my dedication. And my belief that this is, again, THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN THE WORLD.
Some of you may wonder what secrets I know. Well, of course, I can’t tell you until you sign up, but I will give you an overview of some of the things we will do in my one-day course.
We will look at headshots and I will tell you why they are bad. I will ask how much you’ve spent on your headshots, at which point I will reiterate to you, that you working as an actor is so critical to the Earth, that you should not be scared to spend a lot of money on pictures of yourself. And I will guide you by recommending a photographer who takes pictures of people’s faces better than anyone else, my boyfriend. He charges one thousand dollars. A small price to pay, you will think as you purchase your first mansion in Bel Air.
We will talk about the people who make up this important industry: the agents, the managers, and the casting directors. The most important thing you can do as an actor is MEET THESE IMPORTANT PEOPLE. And I will guide you by showing where and how you can pay money in order to be in a room with them for three minutes at a time. Conveniently for you, I operate a studio for just such a thing. Again I will stress, if you aren’t willing to part with a few thousand dollars in order to meet the most important people in show business, then I can only guess you don’t share my dedication to your career, and that’s a shame.
My one-day course will end with a party. That’s right, you read that correctly, a party! We have one hour at a club in midtown Manhattan, from 6-7pm, to do the most important thing an actor can do, NETWORK. There will be real live industry professionals in attendance, the movers and shakers of the business, such as: an assistant from Carol Robinetti Casting (Orgy, the Musical!-Fringe Festival ’06) and BIG-TIME MANAGER Eric Johnston (also a headshot photographer who is starting his own theatre company, we hear…shh!). And of course, me-Margaret Robinetti, professional acting career and life coach. The club charges a $15 cover, but it includes one free well-vodka drink (practically pays for itself!). And just to let you know in advance, we do have to be out of the club at 7:00pm, but that’s plenty of time to shake hands with the top dogs of the industry!
So, my out-of-work actors, when I see your long, sad faces around town, I know that God has lead me in the right direction. What I’m doing is the most important contribution I can make to this Earth. Movies and TV shows give people happiness and they need actors to make their stories come alive. Come with me on your own personal journey to stardom. It can happen! Send the check today.
Your Bright Future,
Hi guys. Most of you are probably surprised that you’re receiving this letter typed on a standard sheet of printer paper as opposed to a small pad written in sloppy pen ink. However, I’ve decided since I am leaving my current job as a waiter in your local burger joint, I’d write you a little letter.
The purpose of this letter is to list for you a number things that you should never do, since apparently a good deal of you have never been properly trained to be a normal fucking adult.
Number one. Don’t ever mistake yourself for my “boss.” If you’re looking for more control in your life, I suggest you ask your own boss for a promotion.
Number two. Don’t walk into a restaurant pointing and darting to a certain table like a little kid claiming the toy he’s gonna play with.
Number three. When your companion says that she doesn’t want avocado, don’t chime in and say “I’ll have her avocado.” That’s not the way it works, for we are not on a rationing system.
Number four. Zinfandel is red. White Zinfandel is bad.
Number five. Don’t make fun of a bottle of wine because it has a screw cap. That doesn’t mean it’s inferior. If it comes from a box, however, you should make fun of it.
Number six. When I’m at your table, don’t use hand signals and wave your glass around in the air or point to something on your table. You’re an adult, use your words. I do understand words. Especially when they’re followed by the words, “Thank you.”
Number seven. Don’t ask me if you get bread. You don’t “get” bread because I’m not your mommy. You may, however, have some bread to accompany your meal.
Number eight. Manage your expectations according to what kind of restaurant you’re in. If you’re in a diner, expect diner service. If you’re in a very popular, very dark restaurant, expect a model to ignore you.
Number nine. Don’t be a dick.
Number ten. When you need something, please understand that I may have O.T.S. Other table syndrome.
Number eleven. Don’t ask me about a certain menu item and then judge my response. I’m not auditioning menu items for you. Don’t talk about how “convincing” I am about chicken fingers.
Number twelve. If you order decaf coffee and I bring it to you, don’t ask me how I know that it’s decaf. Like the waitress on Seinfeld said, “You could not possibly understand the intricacies of my job.”
Number thirteen. A lot of times during my shift I will be drinking red wine out of a coffee mug in back of the bar.
Number fourteen. When I ask, “How you’re doing today,” don’t say, “Iced tea.” That’s not an answer to that question.
Number fifteen. Don’t ask a question like, “Is the Cobb Salad really gigantic or is it a dinky little salad that won’t fill me up?” Given those two choices, you leave me wondering why you ever leave the house at all.
Number sixteen. Don’t be a dick.
Number seventeen. Just because you don’t know what a menu item is, don’t make fun of it. You’re probably only making fun of yourself. “What’s air-u-goo-la?”
Number eighteen. Don’t tell me to smile. I’m at work. Do you smile constantly at work everyday?
Number nineteen. When I ask, “How are you doing today,” don’t say, “I’m waiting for someone.” That’s not an answer to that question.
Number twenty. Overused restaurant jokes are fine, but just so you know, here’s one. Upon finishing everything on your plate, “I hated it, can’t you tell?”
Number twenty-one. If you sit down at my table and you’re on your cell phone, I’m just gonna let you finish up that conversation.
Number twenty-two. When I ask, “How are you doing today,” don’t get quiet and look down at your menu. That’s not an answer to that question.
And finally number twenty-three. In 1972, 16 survivors of a plane crash in the Andes Mountains had to eat the flesh of their dead friends in order to survive through freezing temperatures until two of them gained the strength to miraculously scale snow-covered mountains to seek rescue. I’ll go check on your frittata, it should be ready any minute.
Your Waiter, whose name you either didn’t know or wouldn’t remember the next day anyway.
Please stop talking to my girlfriend. She’s told you repeatedly that she has a boyfriend, yet you continue to harass her. She’s even offered to accept your friendship despite your aggressive behavior, but you’re clearly only interested in stealing her from me.
Now, I understand that to you, I may be a nameless, faceless roadblock in your conquest to have sex with a pretty girl, but I assure you, I am a real person. I have a family, a job, an apartment, and a dog. My girlfriend, whom you have met, is out with her friends tonight because one of them recently got a divorce. Why don’t you find her? I’m sure she’d be an easier target.
As for me, I am stuck working late here at the warehouse, unloading a truck. I get paid time and a half, and I can’t really afford to turn it down. Hey, we can’t all be rappers, as you may find out yourself one day if your career goes where I think it’s going. I may work in a warehouse, but I’m a good guy. I don’t hit my girlfriend, I’m there for her when she needs me, I take her out to dinner, I never forget our anniversary. And I’m not bad looking either. I’m a catch, Positive K. In fact, if you and I got to know each other, you might actually want to be friends with me. And then think of how you would feel after spending so much time trying to convince my girlfriend to leave me and sleep with you.
I don’t write this letter because I’m scared my girlfriend will go for it. She’s loyal and good to me. Also, she has herpes and that prevents her from sleeping around, even before I met her. So please, Positive K, stop talking to my girlfriend. She’s telling you she has a man and what you’re doing isn’t cool. I’m also sending you your CD, The Skills Dat Pay Da Bills, which I will now have trouble listening to without thinking about how this night went down. I do think it’s interesting though that “The” is spelled correctly but “Dat Pay” and “Da Bills” is spelled with “D’s.” I’ll be honest, I don’t get it.
Oh to have been born in Milwaukee. Or Kansas City. Or even Boston. Anywhere but New York. Then I might not have been handed down this curse of being a fan of the New York Yankees.
Last night marked another year of disappointment. After winning the World Series last year, the Yankees were given the simple task of repeating, despite a slight decline in pitching this year. And much to our dismay, we only made it to Game 6 of the American League Championship Series. Failure. Utter failure.
Sometimes I wish I could change teams, but being a New Yorker, I’m afraid I have no other option in the Major Leagues.
I know most of you out there feel the same way, as the Yankees are “America’s team” and most people love the Yankees first, their hometown team second, but it’s especially hard for those of us in New York City. Year after year we struggle to win, to beat the big guys like Tampa Bay and Toronto, not to mention Babe Ruth’s team, the Red Sox of Boston. Year after year we make the best of our Bad News Bear roster and hope to make the playoffs. Following this uphill climb to the top is painful work for a fan, let me tell you.
It’s also tough being a Yankees fan because unlike every other team in baseball, we buy our players. I wish I had been born near Detroit, for instance, where they find young baseball enthusiasts, be they foster children or impoverished foreigners, and raise them as their own children, developing their skills as a player and a person through their farm system until they are ready for the majors. The Yankees, unfortunately, go through the less-popular “offering money to players” method of staffing. It makes us look bad, but there’s nothing we, as fans, can do about it.
So another year goes by for the Yankees, another disappointing complete failure. America mourns the loss of the Yankees squad this year, in particular America’s number one athlete, Alex Rodriguez, the new “Joe D” of today’s Major League Baseball. So straight from a real New Yorker to the rest of the country lucky enough to have a quality ball team near you, I sing with you the words of Paul Simon, adapted for today’s world. “Where have you gone, Alex Rodriguez? The nation turns its lonely eyes to you. Woo, woo, woo.”
A Yankees Fan
Hello! I am just writing to say hello and tell you that I hope you are doing well in Kentucky. It seems like you are, from what I can gather by googling you.
Anyway, I just want to clear the air a little bit now that I’ve made it and you’re “back home” in Kentucky. I want to make sure that my success doesn’t turn me into the kind of douchebag we always used to make fun of. I like to think even though I’m a pretty big star and no longer have to work at BJ’s Wings, I have class.
I realize now that you and I were headed down different paths. Right before I got the lead in “Ninja Hamster,” you were telling me about how your mom was sick or something and how you felt you needed to be in Kentucky. Totally understandable. Just unfortunate timing for you and your mom, because my path involved two things – nunchuks and a hamster wheel! Turns out the next step on my path was renting a big house in the Palisades and yours was playing the fiddle down in the hills of Kentucky.
But I want you to know I haven’t forgotten our time together working at BJ’s Wings and our time together as struggling artists. I still remember that play you did by Chekov (can’t remember the title) and you were so hot! That’s what really kills me is that you were actually pretty enough to make it too. But like I said, different paths.
Also, I never felt our age difference much when we went out, but after we broke up, I realized that maybe you were a bit young for me. Then again, not long after you moved to Kentucky I started dating an 18-year-old girl. That particular relationship didn’t last long, but a few weeks can seem like a lot when you’re just beginning your adult life. Or a celebrity.
In pictures I’ve seen of you, via google image, it seems like you are getting better and better looking everyday. Which is great, I don’t want to sound like I feel cheated. I can’t help but wonder though, how good are you going to look? Are you peaking now-ish or do you plan to get even better looking? I hate to sound shallow, but as far as the 6 months we went out, did I get the second-best time period, like the Knicks when they had Latrell Sprewell, or did I truly get the dark ages, like the current Knick team? (In your present state, you’re obviously the Knicks of the mid-90’s with Patrick Ewing at center. Don’t let it swell your head too much though, they never won a championship). Not that I’m complaining, I’ve since had my share of Lakers championship teams and even a couple 1990’s Chicago Bulls. But just so I have a sense of where I came into the picture, which Knick team did I get?
Anyway, I sincerely hope that you are doing well down there. And I want you to know that yes, I still think of you.
As for how I’m doing, besides the obvious success and everything, terrific! I couldn’t be better. There are a whole host of things I plan on getting into now that I’ve made it, including but not limited to: yoga, meditation, organic cooking, jogging, Buddhism (yeah, I’m talking Buddhism-happy), stuff to do with hemp, gardening, taking classes (on pretty much anything you can think of), politics, classical literature, and a lot of other amazing things. It seems like there’s not enough time in the day to do all the many things that I am interested in these days. But it also helps that internet porn is not as much of an issue as it used to be.
In conclusion, even though our relationship did not ultimately work out, I want to say that I’ve learned a lot in the past few years, about myself, about us. And I realize you were definitely right about some things. Especially the fact that I was, indeed, selfish. And I definitely shouldn’t have cheated on you those times. So if by some chance your mom is no longer sick or you want to taste what life could have been like, feel free to drop me a line and we’ll see what we can work out. I’m serious about that. And if it helps sweeten the deal, I have a hot tub now.