Thursday, April 27, 2006

On the Midnight [Bus] to [Shaolin]....

I think I need to go to military bootcamp. I hear they only allow you five or so hours of sleep and somehow you manage to get used to it. That's what I've been managing, on a good day maybe six hours, but last night was yet another where I found my way to an express bus around midnight and began the journey home.


Being it was so late I figured the bus would be close to empty and quite, apparently somewhere in God's plan for me there's a loophole about serenity that I'm not involved in. As I boarded the super crowded bus that had maybe five vacant seats, I was quickly met with the loud chatty voices of what sounded like all the passengers. Why would you possibly be so ready to chat endlessly after a long day in the city? As I wondered this I began to realize something else... 90% of the people on the bus were Russian.


There I was, tired as all hell, wishing I could grab a few minutes of zzz's, but surrounded by a loud chatter in an indistinguishable dialect. Granted, I think it had less to do with them being Russian than it did with the fact that they all seemed to know each other. Which lead me to wonder what in the world goes on in the city so late at night that has crowds of Russian people heading home at midnight? If I had the energy and mental capacity I may have stopped to ask someone, but instead I closed my eyes, turned on my Ipod and tried drifting away. (DISCLAIMER- nothing against Russians, God only knows if the bus had been filled with my Puerto Ricans there may have been instruments playing to accompany the verbal noise level).


Just as my Ipod got loud enough to drown everything else out, I felt something nudging my leg. I kept my eyes closed and nudged back, it didn't budge. I opened my eyes and saw that it was the leg of the man sitting next to me. I quickly absorbed the situation at hand, noticing that he was totally breaking the personal space line created by the division of the seats. What was clearly my side of the bench was overlapped by a quater of his body. I stood my ground and continued to hold my leg in place against the weight of his. I closed my eyes and kept my leg strong, until the idea of his nasty leg rubbing up on mine totally grossed me out and I relented. Pulling my right leg closer to my left, I inched away from him... Only to feel his leg cross further into my territory and push, once again, against mine. I was then hit with a combo feeling of pissiness, fear and being grossed out. I'll punch someone before I'll curse them out and start a scene, and I didn't think starting a fight on the bus would prove helpful. (Side note- once, at a club a dude kept trying to grind up on me from behind, even when i repeatedly moved away from him. Instead of yelling at him I elbowed him in the nose and saw him run off to the bathroom craddling it.)


Not soon enough we reached Staten Island and I got up to get off the bus. Why did this dude get up too? That's when I started to panic. As I got off the bus I waited to the side to let him start walking away first. He turned the same corner I had to in order to go home. Allowing him a quarter of a block space ahead of me, I walked home nervously and wondered who I could call at that hour to talk me through the journey home. Right at that moment by friend Carlos texted me something about a random Wendy's and I called him back immediately. As we chatted I watched the weirdo walk in front of me and turn his head around to look back at me once in a while. I was finally able to exhale when he continued straight as I turned the corner.


Was I overreacting the whole time? Who knows, but I made sure to scrub the area of my pants that he rubbed his leg on with shout stain remover.


In lighter news, Imani's baptism was last Sunday- thank the good Lord for that one Candice, I think mom was ready to kick both our asses if we didn't get it done. The little Diva had her screaming moments in church but for the most part she was her normal little angel with a touch of diva, self.


Prior to becoming a princess



Transforming into a princess



Finally a princess



The princess train doesn't stop with Imani




Now it's DIVA time, I wonder where she gets it from...



See how Imani is really Candice's minime and not mine?


Friday, April 21, 2006

I Never Thought I'd Say This...

but DAYUM does it feel great to be home on a Friday night! This is a first and I'm loving every minute of it. But, it's FRIDAY, Elle are you shitting me? Nope and here's why. Let's recap: Monday late night at home, emotional distress to follow. Tuesday, the mosquito morning from hell, the approved clinical drugs that knocked me out, the meetings and all night eating/drinking affairs. Wednesday, all day training, hardly eating, working late. Thursday worked straight from 9 to 6:30, then received my first spa treatment EVER, a massage @ Glow Skin Spa courtesy of my boss (she's a Godsend, truly).. I must pause to elaborate on this. Imagine working a rough f'in week and then your boss tells you "Go get a massage, my treat". You arrive at this Fen Shui haven, sing song through the sounds of the ocean and rainforest into a serene room where you are rubbed down in island coconut oil. I get tingles just talking about it. This went on for an hour and every moment I was ready to cry because I knew the end was closing in. An hour later it finally did and I felt emotionally connected to the woman that rubbed me down the right way. As I regrouped and redressed I was instantly reminded that I had something else to do that evening... go back to work. Hey, everything has it's price right? There was a 3 million dollar deal riding on the creation of 4 power point presentation print outs (try saying that ten times fast). I get back to work by 7:30 and there is chaos, the color printers aren't working- of course. The next two hours that follow, if sped up to the tune of that song they always play in cartoons when things go by very quickly Race of the Bee or some shit, would have been hilarious. But, while it was happening it was quite stressful. My boss showed up as well in the break between her own spa treatment and a dinner meeting. "Nice choice with the coconut oil, I smelled you from the hallway." Cracks me up, that woman. Two hours, and five calls to Fedex later it was 9:30p and I was finally calling a car service to get my ass home.... only to jump in my car and head BACK to the city to go to Camaradas. Yea, yea I know I'm crazy, but Candice needed an outlet and I needed to speak with Tato. Long story short I was home and in bed at 1:30 and tired as shit this morning. Got through the day just fine with all my work done, BUT I was supposed to meet up with someone for a meeting and partying outing. I literally dragged my ass home and crankily started to change when I got the call saying everything was canceled and instead I could stay home in my jammies and research from my couch. Ain't life grand? .. Oh and I'm fully recovered.. no more Angelina Jolie pout for me!=o*

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

What In The Hizzel??

It's 10:47p Tuesday night and I'm shacked up in the Hudson Hotel for the evening. What dirty deeds you doin' ,Elle? None. I'm actually here because my company held a summit within the hotel today and let us out of towners stay the night (thank god for staten island!). While my coworkers chill downstairs in the bar, I relax in my hotel room partly cursing at myself and partly reminding myself that I'm a responsible adult. See, the thing is that a) I'm slightly drunk and b) I really need to sober up enough to take my medication. Medication for what, Elle? Well, that's a story in itself...


Last night I was disturbed at 2am by a little mother fucker named Tito. First he brushed my hand and made it sting, then he kissed my lip and made it swell. See, Tito is a mosquito and Tito brought upon me a hell I had never experienced. It was @ 2am that I swatted and swung at the invisible creature near my face that buzzed mockingly in my ear. It was at 2:15am that I switched on the light and saw my adversary laying before me on the bed, dead. I smiled with triumph, but upon looking in the mirror became aware of the redness of my bottom lip. Mofo bit my lip. I waddled into the bathroom and downed some Benadryl then went to sleep.


At 6am, I awoke and marveled at how odd my mouth felt. Groggily, I walked over to the mirror and stared in horror. Anyone ever see Hitch? Remember the part where he becomes allergic to shellfish and breaks out in swollen spots all over his face? Thought it was bullshit? WRONG. That shit really happens. And it happened to me. Now for those of you who cannot stand the look of disformities, step aside please, because here is something you won't want to see.... my lip... 4 hours after the initial bite



Freaky? You damn right it was! I started to panic and called my boss. That morning was the beginning of our Upfront Summit. Our team members from all over the US were in town and big meetings were going down and I was looking like Sherman from the Nutty Professor. I told her that this was so ridiculous I would have to send her a picture message and so I did. She called me back immediately. "Elle, why does this kind of stuff happen to you? You poor thing!" I'm known for having the weirdest reactions to things that make little sense. She advised me to go to the emergency room, and after calling my mother to accompany me, I agreed.


Four hours, and millions of milligrams later, I was drugged up and passed out in the ER of SI University Hospital. My second time there within 18 months, and another $50 co pay. "You had an allergic reaction, we're putting you on steroids." Wonderful! Thank God I don't play baseball. As I left the hospital my mom picked me up.


"You want the bad news now?" she asked.


I had no clue how my day could get worse. "Shoot."


"You got a $65 inspection sticker expiration ticket."


You have to be shitting me, I grunted, took the ticket and went home.


I napped for a while longer and when the swelling reduced to a decent size I decided to up and go to work. My boss who, after finding out I was ok, resisted the urge to broadcast my pic on the company slideshow, had at least shown the pic to most of my coworkers along with the story of my pain and suffering. I appreciated this because it allowed me to excuse myself from 15 stories about why I was 5 hours late.


There were "Oh my God!"s and "How in the hell is your lip not falling off?" But all in all everyone was very supportive. We held our meetings, went to dinner, got shitfaced and most are in the hotel bar chilling right now. But me, I'm being the level headed one and going to sleep. Had enough drama for the day. Don't need to hear about crazy sex excursions. Got my health to think about....


Now that you've seen that shitty pic let me leave you of some happier times with Imani on Easter =o)


Thursday, April 13, 2006

Don't Get Gassed

“Hi Elle! This is _____ from MTV, we’re throwing a birthday party slash welcoming party for Cipha Sounds tomorrow night. I saw your pic and would like to extend an invitation to you. Are you up for it?”


If you’re a New Yorker, I don’t have to school you on who Cipha is, but as many of my blog readers aren’t from NY, a quick run down goes like this: he’s a highly accredited DJ, a radio personality on both Hot97 and Sirius channel Shade 45, VP of Rockafella’s Rock La Familia, and now VJ for MTV’s Direct Effect. I hope that’s everything, but you can always go to www.ciphasounds.com and read more there.


Ok, enough of the promo, I just wanted to familiarize you guys.


So of course I said, “Sure, I’m down.”


Casting director: “Great, come in club gear and if you can tolerate heels for 4 to 5 hours, wear ‘em.”


What, Dear God, was I getting myself into? Not to be mistaken for some video hoe or groupie, I chose my outfit as if I was going to any other club on any other night- cute, but not over the top. I then call my girl Tanja, fellow industry head who gets amped by all things celebrity, to spread the news. Turns out, she had received an invite as well. Now I felt relaxed, I’d have a partner in crime.


Come the morning of the event, Tanja calls me. She can’t go, has to meet with her real estate lawyer. I panic. Sure, I’m social, but being in an environment like that without a solid person to converse with? I had to have a wing person and I was sure the MTV crew wouldn’t mind another pretty lady as long as I didn’t bring a parade with me. My first call goes out to Marj of course, but it’s half assed because I’m already aware this isn’t Marj’s thing. She’s become super lowkey, I guess that’s what marriage does to you. She denies me and right at that moment I get a call from Clarissa, former director of the Latina NY pageant and new VP of Latina World. By default she is my next invitee, and although she could kill me for telling her last minute, she agrees. And exhale.


At 5p.m., the time I had told my self to be out of my office building by, I was still doing travel arrangements for my boss. Lucky for me, nothing in the entertainment world ever starts on time. So, although the invite was for 6:30pm, there was no one there until 7, and even then that equaled me, Clarissa and maybe 5 people. I met the casting director who told Clarissa and I we can come see Direct Effect whenever we’d like. Great! I’ll be there next month!


With no one in the club (Stereo), the place was freezing. I kept asking Clarissa to do a nipple check on me, but my little hunnies were keeping themselves unnoticed. After a half hour people started to flow through the doorway and some of the girls we saw…wow. Something became very visible to me very quickly – there were two kinds of women at this function: the ones like me and Clarissa who were there to just chill and possibly network, and the glorified hoochies with their weaves, short skirts and 6 inch heels who were there in hopes of finding quick love in all the wrong places.


One girl, dressed to the T like she thought she was in a music video, asked the casting director, “So will I be escorting celebrities?” He looked at her like she had three heads, “No, you’re basically here just to have a good time and party.” She looked downright distraught, and momentarily, I felt bad for her. I asked her if she knew where the bathroom was. She replied, “to hell if I know” with her nose in the air. Well then, fuck you to kingdom come then, to hell with my pity for you. LOL.


Over the next hour the crowd became larger, Clarissa and I had settled below the DJ booth outside of VIP. Although we had the bands to get into VIP, I just wasn’t into it. If I don’t officially know someone in VIP, I’m not going to act like I do.


The infamous Q-Tip began to DJ and the party began to pick up towards the momentum it would carry for the rest of the night. Cipha filtered in and wandered through the crowd. I ran into Manny who, as irony would have it, recognized me from myspace where, more ironically, he had sent me a friend request without at first realizing that we sort of knew each other in college. Manny and his friends joined me and Clarissa at our spot and before we knew it we were surrounded by various record execs and musical artists and rappers. The music was tight, a combination of old skool and hip hop funk. The vibe was just right.


Then it dawned on me that although I know a few of Cipha’s colleagues, I’ve never actually met him directly (and I don’t talk about them because they are “private” people lol). What better night right? I looped the club and finally came across him walking by himself. After tapping his shoulder, and grabbing his attention I introduced myself, told him I was a fan for years, congratulations on landing the show and an early happy birthday wish. He hugged me told me thanks and asked my name again. Then he asked where I was from, and why did I have no clue what that meant? So I said Brooklyn and he laughed. I’m thinking now he meant who did I work with. He asked me something I can’t remember then got pulled away to video tape. I returned to Clarissa and the crew that had formed.


I sipped on my Amstel, watch Clarissa dance around with an incredible amount of energy I could never possess after a long work day. Cipha circled around to the area I was sitting and that’s when all these introductions and pictures began. I grabbed a pic with Cipha and said something about him not knowing my name, to which he replied “It’s _____ (my real name), I remember that kind of stuff I’m not an asshole”. Got me right here (pointing to heart) – he’s definitely on my cool celeb list for sure. So here comes the onslaught of pics:



Clarissa



Manny of Xequtive Board Entertainment



Cipha



Clarissa and Qtip



Qtip and Cipha spinning at the same time



Daytona (love his style) - www.myspace.com/daytonabx



Cipha and Miss Info -how cute is she?



Kevin - I want to say he's Cipha's road manager, but he was so funny and switching up everything I said that it was hard to keep track. Cool dude, nonetheless.



The DEY is coming ....


At midnight things began to shut down. I said goodbye to all those I had met, including Cipha and walked out with Clarissa and some friends to find transportation home. As I rode the express bus home I did the shake thing I do when I get excited and smiled at the evening of fun and networking I had just experienced. Something tells me so far so good, Elle… now keep it up!

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

What I See and Hear

Sometimes I want to blink and wake up in a world before I knew what I wanted to do with my life because since I've figured it out, nothing's been the same. Some people embrace what I've done, what I'm becoming, but others don't get it. They tell me I've forgotten them, I'm "too big" now... Who is big? Not me, I don't see a huge cashflow, I don't have my own house, I don't drive a Beamer... I'm just grinding. Hard. And all over NYC. This is the entertainment biz, one of the toughest ones out there and some of those who aren't involved with it think it's a bunch of bullshit, but it's what I love. I come home with this crazy news about a random break I made and my mom looks at me with disgust saying "You have to wear club clothes?", like I'm supposed to wear a suit to a hiphop function.

The most time I spend in one place is at my 9-5, and even then I work for an executive who has 50 people asking her questions within ten minutes and I have to step up and help her answer. Sure, I'm logged into myspace all day.. doesn't mean I'm there. Yes, my IM is up, but the reason I'm allowed to have it is to speak to my coworkers, other than that if I can talk to you I will, I'm not ignoring you. Yes, I thought I would be home on Wednesday night, but Wednesday morning I find out someone wants me to WORK in their PR division as a part time. What do you think that means? No longer going home Wednesday night at a reasonable hour, now I have a meeting. I'm not full of shit, I'm just trying to make something of myself.

So what are you doing writing in your blog if you're so busy, Elle? If I didn't sit down and let this out I'd probably flip the fuck out and curse at someone I never meant to. You have to release somehow and I choose to do it this way. To those who don't get it, I'm sorry that you don't but don't take my absence as me forgetting you or growing a big head. Everyone else tells me I'm one of the most down to earth people they've met. The others that have accepted my behavior, I thank you for your patience. And to all my real friends, I have love for you, please don't misread my actions.

Always,

Elle

Friday, April 07, 2006

Allergies, Last Calls and Standing Ovations (BACKPOST)

Fake.

It’s what I never want to be, but what so many people in this industry are. However, I was privileged enough in the last month to interact with several people in the biz who are in fact very real and very thorough. I don’t know where the month of March went and this is mostly due to the fact that I worked my ass off. Between my 9-6 and my 6-1 (yes, most nights I’m not home until then), weekdays turned into weekends and weeks turned into a month. Here I am, April 5th, amidst a temperamental snowstorm (WTF is this about?!), thinking back and wishing my last run wasn’t over.

The last performance for Latinas Don’t PMS was a day of running amuck within four of the five boroughs of New York. My first stop was grabbing Roberta, whom I’ve known for more than a year but never met in person, at LaGuardia Airport, Queens (the most retarded airport in the tri-state area). She was everything I imagined she would be and in awe of all things New York. It always amazes me how New York can overcome someone who isn’t a resident, with a deep sense of admiration and appreciation, and yet those of us who live here are kind of like “Eh, whatever, it’s New York”. She was fascinated the bridges, tunnels and buildings she saw while we passed from Queens to Brooklyn to Staten Island. “Wait until you see the Staten Island dump! Now that is a sight!” I boasted. Bet you didn’t know you could see it from space, ha! (Pointless information.) Hours later we were shopping for some shirts and my fingers were cramping from the 300 text messages I received in just that one day. If it wasn’t a text message, it was a phone call. I could have really passed for a somebody while my phone was ringing non-stop.

By 4:30pm we were scrambling to get ready for the show. I had sold 33 tickets, but more than half were still in my physical possession which meant the incoming calls to my cell phone would set the damn thing on fire a half hour before the show started. With Roberta in tow, I raced up the FDR and cut cross town on 125th street. Harlem, especially on 125th, is one hell of a busy area. There were swarms of people in the streets, shopping and doing what they do. I began to wish I had opted for public transportation, when luckily I came across parking on Morningside. Roberta and I hustled through the busy streets amongst a fury of cat calls and “Hey Ma, let me talk to you”. I could careless about any man trying to get my attention at that point, all I wanted was to be seated and stress-free, enjoying the show. But…the flyers were missing.

I call my promoter and prepare myself for a story, which I received in bouts of uncertainty. Apparently the lack of club passes at the theater was not my fault, nor my promoter’s, but instead rested with the printer who didn’t do the job in time. I take a deep breath because I’m not one to lose my mind over something I have no control over (except for men and my weight), and tell him to do whatever he thinks will work. I then returned to my phone calls which were building up by the second. A large crowd began to form outside the theater consisting of those waiting for the doors to open and those trying to get last minute seats. With my cell phone as my magical wand I made several trips through the crowd to reach my various “clientele” and distribute the tickets they had purchased from me. I use to make fun of people with Bluetooth headsets, now I wish I had one. I didn’t have enough hands to hold tickets, distribute tickets and answer my phone all at the same time which is what I needed. I became friendly with the door guys who gazed with admiration at all the beautiful Latinas lining up to see the show. “Now don’t you wish we held more events here?” I asked one of them to which he quickly nodded while drooling.

After hugging my cousins and mother hello, I swiftly handed them their tickets and told them to keep it moving. I momentarily became aware of my mother’s misunderstanding of my part in this production as she tried to tell me to stop running around and stay still. Candice and I are drafting a power point presentation that will document my plan to take over the world… err I mean, event planning world and will present to my mom in the near future. I feel like what I’m doing, or what I’m trying to do is something that needs to be thoroughly explained to an older generation. What I call networking and hosting, they call partying too much. Ayi Dios mio, ayudeme!

I had recruited a team of ushers to help me secure the area I had sold out, and by 7:50 I was able to look over everyone seated happily, take a deep breath and enjoy the show. Like the previous Friday’s performance, each comedienne received a tremendous amount of laughter for their individual pieces. I could never get enough of these funny ladies, whether they are talking about the symptoms of PMS, the taboo of it, or the consequences, they do it in such a way that I will forever think of them during my time of the month lol. When the curtains closed on the performance, I understood the tears I saw form in some of the eyes of the performers. Four outstanding shows went by so quickly, so what’s the next step? Time will tell on that one as everyone takes a break to recuperate.

After the show I took my crew down to Via, always fun to be around my cousins and my girls. Good laughs and pole dancing.








Around 2am I got a call from my Rockstar buddy Ill Ryan (aka Ill C to everyone, but I refuse to call him that), “Sup J?” (he refuses to call me Elle like everyone else). He was hosting his artist MIMS’s bday bash at Star Lounge and told me I had to come through, didn’t ask, told me lol. So I round up what’s left of my troops and head on over. Let’s just left the pics talk for themselves.


Yo, MIMS WHY your hand gotta be RIGHT in my face? Ah, we Rockstars anyway lol


Is it just me or do me and Ryan look like midgets while Marj and Manny look like giants?


Nikki had every guy in the club on top of her...literally. Poor thing is shouting "Get off!"

Next thing I now Ryan is acting as my manager as all these dudes start asking for my pic and autograph... WTF? WHO am I?

Saturday I dropped Roberta off in BK and met up with Marjorie and Nikki for some 86 Noodles, love that place. Handled my taxes… how about my payroll department never enrolled me in NYC taxes so I owe the city $1200, the same amount I was getting back from my Federal return- ain’t that nice? Mofos. Ran into an old friend Saturday night and realized one night doesn’t change anything that’s happened between us. It’s best left where it is.

Sunday morning I’m reminded, at the last minute, that I have free promo tickets to Great Adventure. I grab CandACE (not to be confused with CandICE, my cousin) and head to the land of rides in South Jersey. On the way there we talk, we sing (me badly, her well) and get excited about the warm sun beaming at us through the windows. Stephen had called me, he was already there with my Queens crew but three hours after his first call they were just getting on the Kingda Kah ride, is it that serious? After the ride that I hope was worth their time, they met up with us and we trooped around the park until 8pm when it closed. Again, there are pics…


Woo hoo, free tickets!


Our main men


I love her THAT much


The whole clan


Is the ride EVER going to start?


I'm posting this pic because I think it shows how at that moment, I was truly enjoying life, and once in a while I need to be reminded shit just ain't that bad.

Long weekend, right? You’re telling me… To top it all off, I've been suffering from an allergy to something unknown that causes me to break out in hives. Weird. Oh well, now Super Elle is off to go save a suffering event…and ignoring everything in her life that doesn’t make sense ….dum dum dum EXCEPT... for Imani

EXCEPT... for Imani