Truly blessed, and duely grateful

So it's here. The biggest birthday yet. Do I have mixed feelings? Excitement? Anxiety? Terror? Yep. But somewhere in that jumble is gratitude. Aside from instantly gaining independent wealth that allows me to take my friends on a European vacation, I can't think of a better way to spend my birthday. I'll be performing two shows of The Fantasticks and five of my very best friends are coming in from all over the country.

We could be our own sitcom, this motley crew...or at least a weird reality show that would never be dramatic enough for today's standards. You've got the soulful and fiercely independent thinking actress and personal-emo-blogger from Raleigh, NC who grew up with a Whoopi Goldberg complex and never fails to make anyone laugh at a moment's notice. There's the Carolina girl who's become a DC-based jet-setter, working at the Pentagon, always in gorgeous dresses and suits with fabulous shoes, the center of a fight between British officers at embassy dinners--who will get to buy her that next drink? The reluctant-to-admit-it Cincy native, a George Washington graduate currently pursuing her PhD in Physiology at the University of Cincinnati, struggling to assert herself among the scientists in her lab without being discounted for being the pretty chick in the room (She's serious! She's also brilliant! Look at those GLASSES!). Don't forget the sound and light designer and technician who recently relocated back to her Nashville home--the girl who hates wearing dresses almost upon penalty of death, but has way cuter belts than you'd ever have and loves romantic movies almost as much as she loves her dog. Don't forget the male among the weekend's ranks--my roommate in the city, the tattooed and smirking copy writer for Urban Outfitters who's studying sketch comedy at Upright Citizen's Brigade and wondering exactly where that Master's degree in Religion is gonna fit in.

Somewhere in there is me, the girl at the end of her 20's, the once-youth ministry director, the again-vegetarian, the as-of-late distance runner, and the now-and-into-the-future (often musical-) theatre actress who'd rather walk her dog 4 miles, take a yoga class and cook an organic vegetable-based dinner and talk and laugh with the friends she made it for than just about anything else.

We're all here in Cincinnati this weekend, the dear loves of my life are traveling hundreds of miles to see me in my first Equity lead at a major regional theatre, and to celebrate my life with me. There will be waffles at Findlay Market, they're all coming to the matinee tomorrow and the "actor meal" between shows, a party of some sort happens tomorrow night, there's "BFF brunch" on Sunday, and I believe we're concluding it all with Flight of the Conchords, 30 Rock, and probably too many snacks at my apartment after the two shows on Sunday. Not such a bad way to leave your 20's. I make light of these folks by giving bite-sized character descriptions of them, but see, the gorgeous and hilarious NC-based actress is always available at the other end of my phone or facebook at all hours of the night, no matter where we are in the world. The jet-setter and I are sometimes closer than family, we've been dear friends since we were in elementary school, I haven't laughed more with anyone in my life, and no one appreciates a Lemon Bar like she does. The PhD student seems like half of my soul living in another person--no one else gets the importance of a good beard, a soulful singer songwriter with a guitar, and an endless coffee and cookies session more than this girl. Technician-Girlfriend screams with me when I need it, appreciates what's truly ridiculous in the world around us, and knows that loving your dog an insane amount isn't. The writer-roommate is one of the next-to-the-last-true-romantics out there, and his cynical jokes (including the fist-bumping dirty ones), John Cusack delivery, and habit of feigning that he's void of emotion just make me (and all of his female friends, I'd wager) love him more. I couldn't be more thankful that they'll all be here in one place at the same time. I don't want anything else for my birthday.

And who needs to go on an expensive vacation, anyway, have you HAD those waffles?

No matter where I go, all over the country...

There's always a middle aged man in yoga class who grunts and groans in a totally unnecessary manner. If it's Ashtanga, fine. It's tough to breathe, the poses can be difficult, and nearly any yoga teacher will encourage "releasing some sound" here and there. But this class was called "Mindfulness Yoga," which featured literally 5 minutes of half sun salutations (not a single downward facing dog), and the rest of the hour was restorative poses, lying down surrounded by bolsters, sandbags, blankets and other comfy props, and over half an hour of meditation and Yoga Nidra, which translates to Yogic Sleep! Sir, it's awkward enough when the room is full of young girls in Lululemon pants and you're making primal, carnal noises, but most everyone in that class was a 50+ housewife convincing herself that she was fighting her stress and working out by lying down for 45 minutes.

Control yourself, Mister, some of us are trying to pay $14.00 to "walk in" to Sleep Class here!


**please note: actual middle-aged yo-groaner (I have just coined this phrase, feel free to use it) NEVER looks like this guy. He's usually much less Anderson Cooper, much more Milton.

Learning About Endurance

Today, I completed my first half-marathon, in Raleigh, of all places. I moved away from Raleigh when I went to work at Papermill, and I started graduate school immediately afterward, so I haven't been back for more than a day or two at a time since 2005.

When I started running this year, and somewhere along the way decided I could do a Spring half-marathon (actually, I remember, I decided in Atlanta, I was sitting on the most incredible bed of the entire tour at the Georgian Terrace), and in searching what half-marathons were happening before I'd leave for Cincinnati, I realized this one occurred right around the time I was coming home for a visit. The Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon boasted Bank of America sponsorship and a terribly lax website, whose only updates since January were the ever-growing list of musical groups who would be performing along the course--they included three or four bands made up of kids under 17, and a single bagpiper in a kilt at Mile 9. Always an advocate for efficiency, I registered, though not sure if I would really be able to train myself from trial and error practice, the advice of good runner friends, and whatever seemingly most legit info I found online. Turned out, it wasn't the running I wouldn't have properly prepared for.

During my seven years in Raleigh (1998-2005), a whole lot happened. I went through four years of college, was one of sixty lucky participants in an amazing academic scholarship program, met scads of life-changing friends, started out as Pre-Vet in Animal Science, changed my major to Biology, exited Pre-Vet, changed my major again to Theatre, added Mass Media as a second major, added Vocal Performance as a minor, met a guy I wasn't expecting and married him, worked as a legal assistant, a bank teller, a Barista, a babysitter, a paid soloist for a church, a catering waitress, a clown/costume shop assistant, a costume mistress at my own theatre, eventually an actress (yes, paid) for my school's summer stock, and eventually the head of youth ministry for two different churches, decided to go to graduate school in theatre, was hit by a car in what could've been a life-threatening accident, and said marriage ended.

Of course, it occurred to me that running through the city where all of this life happened would bring back some memories, but I was surprised to see so much in front of me as I passed the landmarks.

Since people wanted to know how the run went, let me break it down for you:

Mile 1 took us out of downtown, away from the BB&T building that housed my legal assistant job, away from City Market, where REP and Vic's Cafe live, all those great plays that inspired even greater discussions with friends, many of which occurred over garlic knots and cheese slices at Vic's, when the creepy short waiter wasn't hitting on me. We made our way onto Hillsborough Street, NC State's main drag. I passed Snoopy's, the drive-in joint where I used to cheat on my vegetarianism when I'd had an impossibly terrible day and would buy a hot dog. Then Boylan Ave., which made me think of my Annie cast, and I decided that mile was for Liz and Emily Rudolph, who said I'd inspired them to eat better and exercise.

There was the IHOP, where my lighting design class took a break from our midterm and final design all-nighters for way-too-expensive pancakes at 3am. The YMCA we joined in 2004 to save money, where I took yoga and pilates classes with my friend from the law firm, Amy, sometimes even her husband and mine, and always the old lady who couldn't help queefing when she rolled back down from plow pose. Seriously. Every. Time.

I ran by the Velvet Cloak Inn, where my mom ordered me a huge plate of waffles the morning of my final Park Scholarship interview, and I think I was able to eat about three bites of them, I was so nervous. There was the historic NC State Belltower, the symbol of our university in all our logos. The corner where that awesome homemade ice cream shop is sadly no longer located, Maiden Lane, where my roommate's and my dear friend Kevin lived...there were many Kevins freshman and sophomore year, but this was the Kevin who was a 6'2 rock-climbing vegetarian, who brought me gelatin-free gummy bears from Germany, made me my first tofu pot pie, and would curl up in the fetal position when any girl mentioned her period.

The second mile kept me plugging up the street (at a 9:45 mile pace, taking it purposefully easy in order not to blow my energy, thank you David Conrad, Lauren Haar, and Cara Bonewitz) and passed the Breugger's Bagels and Planet Smoothie that fueled so many school days and late Sunday mornings after cast parties/before the next rehearsal I couldn't even count if I wanted to. My mom had brought me a smoothie from there the day after my accident, too. There was Caldwell Hall, where I took Literature of the Holocaust, my favorite class in college, taught by my favorite teacher in college. On the other side of the street was El Rodeo, our dorm suite's cheap beloved Mexican restaurant that we called "The Rodeo," partly because that's what it meant, but mostly because of what would go on in your large intestine after eating there. (The painting to the left has nothing to actually do with El Rodeo except, I guess, being a cheap Mexican stereotype, but it came up when I did a google image search for the restaurant, and how could I pass it up?)

The third mile approached and passed Clark Avenue, where David's apartment was when we started seeing each other, the same one where I went looking for him when he hadn't come home for days a few years later. There went Two Guys, where we held endless Park dinners. I laughed as I passed Sir Speedy, the copy shop that held the monopoly of course packets for State--I was just talking with Josh about it in New Haven. You had to buy your course packets there, often 25 pages of copies of worksheets, syllabi, and the like, but you still had to pay $37 for them and they were required for class. Ah yes, the tattoo parlor where I got my belly button pierced shortly after my 19th birthday while dating the frat boy. (Ah, youth.) The Kinkos where I made several last minute expensive copies of my headshot for auditions for local theatres is now a FedEx Office, but Man Mur, famous for it's cheap haircut--always the same, no matter what the dudes ask for, is still holding strong. The cobbler shop that replaced two pairs of soles of my Birkenstocks is still there, too; I was happy to see it.

Mile 4 took us down and around Gorman Street, past the gas station where I filled up for endless trips to Greensboro and filled the front tire of my Subaru with air about six times before realizing there was a nail in it. I remembered the many Applebees "crack" brownies and appetizers Jackie, Byron, Ryan, and others split after University Theatre shows, and smiled thinking about Anna's plan to marry a student from China as I passed the E.S. King Village--it was married student housing on campus, pretty decent apartments at dorm cost, and preference was given to students who'd come in from other countries.

Mile 5 spanned the rest of Hillsborough Sreet up to Blue Ridge Road. I slowed down to make sure that Edible Art was still there. Best cake of my life--vanilla cake with buttercream icing--I knew we couldn't afford it for our wedding, but it didn't stop us from splitting single slices of it after shows or for celebrations. The sign was still there; I almost wished it hadn't been once I'd seen it. It wasn't an easy sight to see. Good for another laugh, though, was Beansprout Cafe, holding strong. It was the "good" Chinese place until one of us in the dorm suite got food poisoning. We didn't eat much Chinese food anywhere after that. I looked to my right and we were passing University Club, where our scholarship group hosted and schmoozed with several university presidents and various other dignitaries. The cows were still there in the pasture at the vet school, at the bottom of the hill whose crest held the barn where I castrated a goat in Animal Science class.

We got to Mile 6, and I admit, my knees were hurting a little. I pulled out my mantra (it's a little silly, if you really want to know it, you can ask me), and that plus the band of middle schoolers playing adorable simple rock music helped me up the hill to Blue Ridge Rd. I decided the next mile was for Jackie, since I felt like I was running to her old apartment off Trinity Rd., and before I knew it, I'd passed the NC State Fairgrounds, where I remembered very well eating my way through the 2003 State Fair with Clark, my fellow intern at White Memorial.

Miles 7 and 8 took us into the Sculpture Garden at the NC Museum of Art, a beautiful trail where David and I walked our dog Sarah whenever the weather was good. The hills through that trail were no joke, but I remembered my friend Jeffrey's cries of "sonofabitch!" whenever we'd come up a hill while running on tour, so quietly to myself, I said "sonofabitch!" when I needed it, and I never had to walk a hill. I kept rounding corners, and the hills kept rolling, but just when I'd think I was going to have to walk, I found the hill was done.

Mile 9 looped back around Meredith College and back through the neighborhood that had brought us to Gorman the first time. By that time, I understood how important race volunteers really are. Every time someone was standing along the road clapping and calling out "keep going! only x miles left! You're doing great!" it made a huge difference.

My mom was standing in a clearing at Mile 10 (the farthest I'd run before the race), jumping up and down and waving. I cried a little, I'm not ashamed to admit it (not like it was the first time on this run, anyway). I was so glad she was there, and I knew she'd probably been driving around for a while, trying to find a place where she could see me along the way. I yelled out something to the effect of "Mama! Heyyyyyy! I'm OK! I'm actually above my pace! I'll see you again in a little while! Aaaah!" It made me forget about my ankles that were sore in all the places that have flared up in the years since the car accident, and I realized my pace had gone down to 8:40. (Note to self: next race, bring a larger cheering section. :) )

The rest of the race retraced our steps back to the starting line, and it seemed all-too-appropriate that "Revelation" from Passing Strange played just as I ran by the former location of Christ our Comfort Church, my first praise team singer job. Immediately after that was Counting Crows' "Einstein on the Beach," which always reminded me of Picasso at the Lapin Agile, the show David and I met doing. It occurred to me that I'd been under pace for I thought just about every mile, but I hadn't paid much attention or been able to remember my totals, I just knew that I was coming in earlier than I expected. I remembered reading one of my friend Lou's Runner's World magazines on tour, where an elite marathoner from Raleigh, of all places, had contributed some drills for picking up the pace at the end of your race. I had done those drills in my own training, and I was so amazed to be almost done, I didn't notice at first that I actually felt just fine. So I ran. I mean, I was already running, but I really ran. The last mile, faster and faster, and I sprinted across the finish line. My Garmin watch read 2:03:55, and 13.18 miles...I must've hit "start" before I actually crossed the foot pad to start the race, but that averaged out to 9:24 mile pace, which was faster than I'd ever done my long runs in training, not to mention this was the first time I actually ran 13 miles at once.

Much thanks to my Ipod's Workout Mix on shuffle, and thank goodness the Raleigh Rocks Half Marathon is ghetto enough to allow ipods, the miles flew by with the addition of poignant songs (yes, I even run to folky music) that reminded me of so many people who were in various states across the country but thinking about my race this morning. Here's what played, if you're curious.

REM: Horse to Water
Swell Season (Glen Hansard): Leave
Sara Barailles: Gravity
Josh Ritter: Kathleen (Live)
Sara Barailles: Between the Lines
Josh Ritter: Good Man
Passing Strange Soundtrack (Stew & co): Keys (It's Alright)
Sarah Mac Band: Open Fire
Great Big Sea: Donkey Riding
Ray LaMontagne: You Are the Best Thing
Counting Crows: You Can't Count on Me
Swell Season: You Ain't Goin' Nowhere (Dylan cover)
Patti Griffin: Poor Man's House
Jason Mraz: Butterfly
Alanis Morissette: Underneath
Bruce Springsteen with the Sessions Band: Eyes on the Prize
Alanis Morissette: Versions of Violence
Alanis Morissette: Giggling Again for No Reason
Bruce Springsteen with the Sessions Band: This Little Light of Mine
Elisa: Dancing
Swell Season: Into the Mystic (Van Morrison cover)
Jay-Z/Alicia Keys: Empire State of Mind
Iron & Wine: Boy With a Coin
Jamie Lidell: Wait for Me
Patty Griffin: Rowing Song
Swell Season: When Your Mind's Made Up
Passing Strange Soundtrack: Church Blues Revelation/Freight Train
Counting Crows: Einstein on the Beach (For an Eggman)
In the Heights Soundtrack: 96,000
Josh Ritter: Harrisburg (Live)
Dixie Chicks: Not Ready to Make Nice

It seems a little cheesy, but the race itself was symbolic of my own journey away from Raleigh and getting on with my life after I left. I took things slowly at the start, taking the advice of loved ones, and plodded along steadily until I found my own footing. Just when I'd passed the distance with which I felt comfortable, I saw my loved ones there, knew they'd really been there all along, no matter where I was or if they couldn't find me, and it helped me to speed up and really be on my own. Who knew? In the end, I can honestly say the race was a lot easier than I expected, I did an awful lot better than I thought I ever could, and I would never have guessed that in the very town where I thought I'd never breathe again, in the physical, emotional, and psychological senses, I actually breathed steadily through 13.1 miles, and really ran across the finish line.

City #2--Burlington, VT

loooooooooooooong travel day today. We left Dayton at 11:30AM, took a bus to Columbus (where other castmates complained that Juliette and I, the two smallest people in the cast other than the ACTUAL children, had more leg room than anyone else on the bus for some odd reason), flew to Baltimore, then Albany...then another 3 hour bus to Vermont. We got here and it was really cold, but the Sheraton is lovely! Huge fireplace in the lobby, great big beds, and even though there are snowflakes outside, it's nice and warm in here.

We also got our tour bus tonight. Wifi, outlets, really the lap of luxury, especially in comparison to last year's tour, from what they tell us.

7:00 show tomorrow night, then we'll depart at 6:00AM the next day for Easton, PA...then Thursday is our first "golden day" (day completely off, no travel or shows), and a group of us are renting a van and DRIVING BACK TO THE CITY!!! Can't wait to see my boys! :)

So it begins...

Annie Tour: City #1--Dayton, Ohio

It should go without saying to anyone who reads this (as you'd already know this about me) that I was pretty familiar with our first city...it's only about an hour away from my latest (previous to NYC, anyway) home of Cincinnati, I'd worked promotions here, dropped off files here at the awful legal job last year, and even attempted a few social situations in this city...which, by the way, were bad ideas every time.

The best part about being here was that I got to spend my Thanksgiving (and last Saturday, and tonight for dinner) with Cincinnati friends--Lauren, Dave Powell, TJ, Mary, Adam, and Paul Lieber. The short rundown of this week as far as Cincinnati goes: Last weekend was the much-beloved waffles (and the best whole grain bread of my life...I'm so visiting that hippie bearded man every week when I'm back in town this Spring) at Findlay Market, some brief tour preparatory shopping with Lauren, Dewey's with the crew, John Doyle-directed and Sarah Ruhl-translated "The Three Sisters" at the Cincy Playhouse after a couple of needed glasses of Riesling at the Mount Adams wine bar, sang at Knox on Sunday morning and had lovely coffee and muffins with those friends at Awakenings, and lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings with Lauren, Dave Powell, and TJ and his friends.


Thursday was my very first race, the 100th Annual Cincinnati Thanksgiving 10K. I have really gotten into running, and am looking forward to my next goal--the Flying Pig Relay back in Cincy in May...I'm trying to get together as many Cincinnati theatre folks to join in, run a leg of the race (only 6 miles, I promise it's easier than it looks) and raise money for Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS. Lauren and I cooked an amazing meal for the two of us, Matthew, and Lauren's friend Son, and TJ joined us for dessert. Tonight I got to go back for dinner, and Lauren and Paul and I feasted on nearly intolerable spice levels at Ambar. Man, I miss that place. One of my favorite Thanksgiving highlights involved a beet tasting by Lauren and Matthew. A very telling visual of the results is to the right.

Fun times at 'home' were had, but it was also a work-filled week. Three other new cast members and I learned the entire show in a couple of days, before we knew it we were in costume, and we had three seemingly very successful shows here in Dayton. Tara ("T") Snyder, my friend from my grad class who lives here in Dayton, and Dave and Sue Conrad from Knox Pres in Cincinnati, came out to see the show this afternoon. It was great to see them and know that somewhere in that vast audience, someone was looking for me onstage. (Hint: if you are attempting this feat in the future, just look for the smallest maid/homeless person/Boylan sister. Easy as that.)

Tomorrow, we get on one bus to Columbus, OH, to fly to Albany, NY by the way of Baltimore, MD...then we'll get on another bus to take us to Burlington, VT. Supposedly this will be one of our worst travel days of the entire tour. Fingers crossed. I have some predictions for tour.

There will be a lot of these:

A lot of these:

...and a WHOLE lot of these.

That's it for now. Tales from the road to come...stay tuned.

Lauren Haar, this is especially for you.

Sunday night Matthew and I saw The Swell Season in Philadelphia. I was totally blown away.

I'll just let them speak for themselves.

Thank God for youtube.

Glen Hansard, Astral Weeks (classic Van Morrison tune). Incredible.



"I Have Loved You Wrong," my favorite song on the new album.


"Fallen From the Sky." Note them sitting on the ground, and Glen's hat. Yep. Adorable.


Finally, a new untitled one. Complete with audience background vocals. I very much appreciated the NPR crowd, only singing when asked.


I promise to start blogging regularly from the road. Departing LaGuardia for Cincinnati next Saturday the 21st, beginning the tour in Dayton, and on across the country from there...exciting and a little scary. Luckily I'll have lots of music and books to accompany me on the bus...any suggestions appreciated!

Flyering sucks, but at least I get free cookies

There are many different kinds of promotions. Sometimes you are leading a party or a game at a school event. Other times you're handing out free samples of something as fast as you can until they're all gone. Others you're demonstrating something, talking about it, then again usually handing out some sort of sample or a coupon for the product.

Other times, the best times, you're handing out something for free that people would usually be glad to buy on their own, but getting it free makes it even more wonderful. The people love you; they're happy you're there, they thank you heartily, and it's like a bonus that you're actually getting paid, because you feel so appreciated by the masses for doing what you're doing.

Yesterday was one of those times. I started promoting for Insomnia Cookies, located on the NYU campus in the East Village. (50 W 8th Street, for those of you who'd like to pay the actual store a visit) Insomnia Cookies is a brilliant venture...they deliver warm, fresh-baked cookies to you (generally they're marketing to students, but if you're in their delivery range, you can be anyone. read: why don't I live in the East Village? read: because I'd gain 30 lbs.) until 3AM. Perfect for exams, post-drinking, post-other recreational, er, activities, etc. (In case you're wondering, they're no Breadsticks and Scones, but I bet they could make a killing if they were, what with all the headshops surrounding the place.)

We were one of the donor-vendors at the NYU New Student Block Party. The job was simple: pass out free cookies (there were 8 flavors available, the people could even pick which one they wanted), make sure they took a flyer and some coupons too so they could order from us in the future. Everyone loved it, I got to sample a few flavors myself, and I even got paid in cash right out of the register at the end of the easy 4-hour shift.

Side note: During the block party yesterday, Bruce Springsteen walked out of the lobby of the bookstore behind where we were stationed...I couldn't say a word, paralyzed by my #2 Greatest Celebrity Love (#1 was Glen Hansard, who only a couple of weeks ago walked by me in easy attack-hugging distance but I couldn't even bear to make eye contact...why did you have to start with the big dogs, NYC? You could've stared slightly smaller, say Adrien Brody, even Jason Schwartzman, I might've been able to mutter a broken "he-hey...I love your work." But Springsteen? SPRINGSTEEN?!? Really?)

I should've at least given him a cookie. He's had the best that life and gourmet have to offer, and a true-blue New Jersey bred American man might wave off something so ridiculous sounding as a Snickerdoodle, but he could totally bring home some of the incredible M&M brownies to Patty and his kids.


I mean look at him. He's been through a lot of pain. Chocolate chips meet a lot of emotional needs, even if you're loathe to admit it at first.

Today was a totally different story. I was stationed in Washington Square Park, "anywhere I wanted to be," to pass out flyers. Just flyers. Not even coupons at first. And in Washington Square Park today, it was a madhouse of flyering people with whom no one wanted to interact. Nondenominational Church Kids Group #1 were nice because they'd hand you a Quaker Chewy granola bar, then sneak in the flyer that invited you to join multiple cultures and Jesus on Sunday mornings. The Communists were obnoxious, slamming a flyer in your face, and as you sped away, yelling at you to come talk to them and find out why "the Revolution is NOW!" The other Nondemominational Church Kids claimed if you filled out a "spiritual survey," you could win a free Ipod. If you live in NYC or you've been here, especially in the Times Square area, you are familiar with this bottom-feeder job. People usually shove flyers in your face without any intelligible language at all, not to mention hard-selling energetic English, which is always the goal, at least when you're hired by reputable companies. Flyering pays the least of any promotional job, and you are hated. HATED.

Being a promotions person myself, I often say "no thank you" and smile at the flyer people, because I feel so badly for them. Most people will walk by you, avoid eye contact, often even put their hand up to you as if you're asking them for money, and you get responses like "Goddamnit, don't give me anything!" "Just STOP!" "F--- you." Yep. Seriously. I think the rejection rate with flyering is even worse than auditions. Even then, I can handle it--I sing my song, I learn your choreography, I read your sides, I'm not what you're looking for, fine. Maybe it's just that I'm redheaded and you wanted a blonde. Maybe I'm not skinny enough. Maybe I'm too short. That's how casting works. But you, NYU student who seems to be wandering in no hurry, bored even, can't even listen for two seconds as you walk by that I'm offering you free, delicious, warm cookies? It's not fun.

Luckily, the manager at the store drew out a map of where the NYU dorms were, and once I relocated, the crowds were friendly and loving again. "Oh, these are amazing!" "Thank you, I've ordered from them twice already this week!" "This is AWESOME, thanks, dude!"

Finally after two tough hours, I was done. They always offer me anything I want from the menu when I'm done. Sometimes a girl can really use a chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich after all that rejection. I guess that's why they sell the little cookies at Ripley-Grier (Audition Studios), too.