i wish i could pay rent with salami

so you are one of the select few in the city that is a bona fide new york times four star and michelin rated three star chef.

so its your birthday. so you have a ridiculous french accent. 

so you decide to throw a bash in your lounge. so you're going to keep your employees for an extra four hours without gratuity or overtime to wine and dine a hundred of your closest fancy friends with equally ridiculous accents.

so i scored more than fitty bucks worth of house cured salami and murrary's cheese. plus lemon macaroons and a platter of organic baby veg in a basil puree that make my panties moist. 

they're fucking lucky that deep down inside, i am just a big ol' fat kid. 

happy barfday fancy pants chef de blah blah.

dreams and the pursuit of

I am amongst countless brave souls who come to this city to pursue theirs. I am a singer. A dancer. An actress. A bad ass triple threat. Which means, well, you know when you read the tabloids and gossip magazines with all of the celebrity sightings listed with the impossibly hip places you'll never get into?

Well, I'm the girl that gets to refill the sparkling waters and remove the bread baskets because how dare I try to feed them carbs?

I have worked in the hottest eateries and watering holes from uptown and down. Soho, East Village, West Village, Greenwich Village, Meatpacking District, Upper East Side, Upper West Side, Tribeca, Midtown, Gramercy, Chelsea and when I didn't know any better, Morningside Heights.

Three star, four star and so fucking cool it doesn't even have an address no star. 

I constantly battle between bitterness towards the ungrateful superficial upper crust and thanking my lucky stars that I get to rub elbows with some of the greatest creative minds of our time, like Betsey Johnson. Oh, and did I tell you I was once thisclose to Edward Norton? The only thing that stopped me from dry humping his face was the fact that rent was due in a week. Am in regrets.