Monday, September 3, 2012
If all the 1+ million people who've viewed and enjoyed either of those videos on YouTube contributed just 1 measly dollar, my college debt - which is currently about $45k - would be gone.
Thanks! And I hope you continue to enjoy the crazy crap I put out, including this plea. For those of you who love my demented ditties and perhaps have an interest or amusement at the combination of sex and food or love your Italian heritage and know what a big role food plays in that, I have a new video coming out very soon for the song "I'm Italian".
Sunday, August 26, 2012
So, since I pay a small fortune to live in Nuevo York Ciudad, I've decided to try to start going out of my way to find reasons to leave that won't cost me a ton of money, will educate me, and give me things to do and think about.
Yesterday, I went to my friend's apartment who is out of town and worked out in the fancy gym there for about 2 solid hours. I did each muscle machine and walked on the elliptical. I read most of a New Yorker while I ellipsed, and even did a little texting with some friends. I guess that taught me, or more reminded me that I hate working out. It also taught my muscles that they are weak and flabby.
After the work out, I showered, put on a cute dress, then walked from Fort Greene to Long Island City in my seemingly impossible quest to shed 30 pounds this year. *By the way*, I have shed 15, but the other 15 have been very hard to lose. My final destination was The Creek and The Cave's 10 year anniversary and Mindy Tucker's photo exhibit of the last year of comedy in NYC, which about 2/3s of my face has a cameo in.
Today, I went to the Heirloom Tomato Festival which was every bit as awesome as it sounds. Sure, to some it may appear to be something old people would do in between watching their stories and getting ready to die, but that's just not true. Loving good food and seeking it out is smart, not boring, and I rewarded myself by buying lots of yummy fresh tomatoes and then making a caprese salad for dinner.
So take that, nay sayers. There were about a dozen booths of farmers with fresh produce, artisan bread and cheese makers, presentations like "how to can tomatoes" and lots and lots of beautiful, colorful heirloom tomatoes. My mom handed down her love of yummy foods to me, which is why I have a giant, bubblicious Sicilian Italian ass.
After that, I rode my bike over the bridge to Williamsburg Bridge to meet up with my friend Our Lady of Perpetual PMS and her bf at a vintage bike fest on Wythe and 14th that spoke to my inner bad ass bitch. Though I'm more a scooter / moped aficionado, the motorcycles there were pretty awesome looking. I wanted to hop on the back of one, grab onto some antique biker's long grey mane, rip the bottom of my shirt off so my semi-flabby tum tum was exposed and all of a sudden have a tramp stamp on the small of my back that said "Ride or Die" or "Losers Take The Bus", but instead I just snapped a few photogs with me iDingly-doo.
My friends and I decided we were hungry so we went to grab a bite, hoping we'd run into Tina Trachtenburg who I heard sells her homemade tamales on Bedford Street. It was kind of late though, and I didn't expect it to happen, but hello fate, there she was at Bedford and 7th. I ate the shit out of a priceless cactus tamale in a record 13.2 seconds.
I parted ways with my pals around N. 3rd Street, when they decided to walk to our friend's shop, Sanford and Sven's. I was coasting down the Manhattan side of the bridge when she texted me that at Sven's, there was a bbq and lots of our pals were there. I was totally bummed and contemplated going back over the bridge, but was psyched when I got back to my hood to see an art show on Division Street, and to find my friend Audrey Crabtree was involved. I then succumbed to a weird political interview, something I'm not super at voicing my opinions about (I'm better at writing out my thoughts any day), and was wholly inspired by the entire shindig.
Not a bad weekend haul. How is Monday going to try to top that?
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Why am I telling you this? Because I am compelled to simultaneously disturb and amuse. Ask God for more details.
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Friday, March 30, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
...if only I had more vagina balls
I go to therapy once a week, because I need it and I like it and I want to fix my broken parts, don't judge me. But I don't just go to any old therapist. I go to therapy at the NYC county courthouse. Why? Maybe I'll tell you the whole sordid story sometime. My therapy there won't last much longer, though, because my therapist is pregnant and about to take that baby and run. If I had $1 for every time that my therapist has gotten pregnant and quit being my therapist, I'd have $2. There's nothing quite like poring over abandonment issues with someone who is about to abandon you. But that, too, is a story for another day.
This session, I arrived on time, early even, the eager damaged beaver I am, to find a line of people longer than the o's in Goooooogle waiting to get their belongings x-rayed so they could gain access to the court house, probably see their therapists too, I bet! I'm usually the only white person in line, which says as much or more about me than it does about everyone else.
As I waited and looked around, I started doing some Tom Green style math and surmised that I could limbo the rope, shimmy between an unused metal detector machine and the wall, slide across the table, run up the stairs two at a time and be in my therapist's office before anyone even noticed what was happening, circumventing the America's Got Talent length line of people. To gauge the task, I turned to the friendly gentlemen behind me and jovially outlined my plan. He laughed but then gave me serious advice: "Don't do it, they will be on top of you in a second and you'll be in chains." The fellow behind him added, "They train for this stuff. They're ready for you."
It was somewhat encouraging to me that these guys were intimidated by the fat security guard who read a newspaper and the younger guy who was doing some yoga bends. Those guards didn't scare me one bit, and I realized it's because I'm a woman. I knew they probably wouldn't hurt me. Maybe they'd cuff me and toss me around a bit, but I wouldn't get punched in the face or baton-ed in the tit-sicle, and certainly not treated the way a man of any color would be dealt with if they pulled that kind of shenanigan.
"That almost sounds like a dare," I said to the guys. They roared with concerned laughter, which ended abruptly as they repeated their warning solemnly. "Don't do it."
I considered making an iPhone style video to see what would happen if I tried my little challenge. I considered the outcome: I get arrested and everyone I know fires me as a friend. It was barely enough to discourage me. The thing that ended up changing my mind was that I really know how badly jail sucks, having visited an old former friend there several times who used to get arrested a lot.
So instead, I waited in line like a sucker, and missed out on what I'm sure would have been a really exciting and maybe even life altering adventure.
I'm so glad for the emotion of fear, because this world -- and my life -- would be absolute utter chaos without it. But at the same time, I bet just a little more fearlessness on my part would have made this Monday a really fun day.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Friday, February 17, 2012
Now here's the best part -- you can also be involved! Yes, you, the one elbow deep in that Pringles container! I need your help. I need you, reader, supporter, peer, creative stranger, sibling, college pal, high school buddy, distant relative, Uncle Jamie, ex-band member, rando millionaire, guy who fixed my computer once -- all of you -- to dig deep down into your -- nope, not your wallets -- dig deep down into your brain's chewy caramel nougat-y center and THINK. Who do you know who wants to see this pilot? Do you have a friend who works in programming at a TV station? Do you have an ex dog walker who's mom's best friend once owned HBO? Did your grandpa used to write for All In The Family? Do you think maybe you might possibly know someone, but you're not exactly sure? US? UK? LA? NYC? Atlanta? I don't care. Any and all of those will do.
Please email me for the secret link to the video and send it to your friend. If you want to see this series on TV, I'm gonna need your help. I don't have enough money or enough high falutin' family members to do it on my own. Email me at jess delfino at gmail dot com.
And most importantly, thanks!! Your support and encouragement over the years is what has kept me going in this dismal, catty, snobby, uptight, competitive, mean, rude business, where people don't return your calls and act like they're too busy for you and slam doors in your face with every turn. Sometimes I even wonder why I'm still doing this. And then I think of you -- the person reading this blog right now. You are really and truly the reason why. I have folders of supportive and encouraging letters saying you love my work -- I've saved them all -- and so, as long as you love it, I'll keep doing it.