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