The Smirking Valet

There once was a post, of dynamic muckraking proportions.  This was once a blog, worthy of linkage.  And there was once a poster of such tenacity, such passion, such benevolent charm, such chutzpah, that even when "the Man" attempted to shut her down, she would not be silenced.  Due to this blog, I've deeply offended some, moved & shocked others, and most importantly made you smile, laugh, and feel special down in your neather regions.  

I've lost roommates, unmasked ex boyfriends, mentioned things I'd never mention in the flesh, and flourished as a writer.  I will never use this blog again - only so much of my life can be contained to one website.

Adieu, fair weathered Live Journal users.  It's been a ride.  Please stop throwing furniture - that's Wedgewood for Christ's sakes!  We're not trading in, we're trading up!  From now on, make the sweet sweet love at...


www.thesmirkingvalet.blogspot.com

Same sassiness, same rack, pure Smirk.

[Unknown LJ tag]

We don't need Jerry Springer, we need Supernannies!  This is a brilliant plan, but I really don't think just going into poverty-stricken homes is the final step.  There are sexual active pre-teens smoking, drinking, and staying out all night right here in our fine City.  Someone needs to give these kids a good smack.  Then smack their parents with their Manolos.  Can I be first???

Did you know St. Martin is owned by the Dutch and the French?  Me neither!  Legend has it, the boundaries were determined in a drunk walking contest in the 1600's.  These two entities have coexisted peacefully for all this time - see how that works Idi Amin?  Therefore, they use two currencies - the Euro and the Antillian Guilder.  Wow, right?  Currently, the US dollar is a bit stronger than the Euro, but much weaker then Guilder.  That translates to me doing the majority (if any) shopping on the French side.  Put in your wish list now.  Oh, and it's Duty-Free!  Squee!

The Dutch side is known as Sint Maarten, wheras the French is Saint Martin.  Philipsburg is the capital of the Dutch side, but I get the feeling we'll be staying on the French side, near Marigot..  Philipsburg is apparently more of a haven for tourists with big hats and sandals with socks.  We will be 1683 miles from New York; I'll try and put a message in a bottle if we end up on a boat.  We'll also be one hour ahead of New York, which means I celebrate 2007 before you!  Unless you're my friend Denise from Taiwan; in that case, you win.

French and Dutch are the main languages spoken, with a bit of Spanish thrown in.  And of course, they also speak English and US Dollars.  I'll never forget taking a taxi in London, before exchanging my US dollars for Pounds, and giving the driver 50 American dollars for a 20 pound ride.  Go fig.  I'll have to pick up a Berlitz English-French book - the family will surely be impressed.  I can speak a bit of French and Spanish, but not enough to get me a meal or medical help.

It will be in the mid-80's, and we're traveling during the dry season.  But, I would love to experience a tropical rain storm.  At least my photos will turn out great..  I can't wait to take the kids to the beach - I love love love the beach.  On the French side, it's completely acceptable to sunbathe topless.  But for me, it's similar to when an employer offers me a drink - I never accept, as I'm on duty.  Besides, didn't you know I only take off my clothes for money?  I don't "sunbathe" anyway.  I burn - badly.  We'll be closer to the Equator, so I'm going to be covered the majority of the time.  As an aside, I depise getting tan or any color - I'm fair skined, and I want to stay that way.  When I do get tan lines, it takes almost a year for them to completlely fade away.

Hopefully, the villa (squee) will be equipped with appliance converters.  I need to find a really good book to bring - any recommendations?  And if you make the Americanized "ok" sign with your hand - three fingers up, with index finger touching thumb - it could be taken as an insult to the French.  Actually, almost anything Americans do is taken as an insult to the French, but I digress.  And did you know the last Dutch governer of New York, Mr. Peter Stuyvesean lost his leg here during a stuggle with the Spanish?  Wow!  

Christopher Columbus landed here during his second trip, and raped & pilleged more cultures.  Also, these beaches where hiding places for Pirate's treasure!  That's right - Treasure Island, right outside my door.  Arrgh, right?  With the cultivation of sugar cane, came slavery.  But, I'm happy to report the slaves were emciapated.  Yay!  There used to be cannibals on the island, too.  They would eat the husbands of the rival tribe, and marry their wives.  That's what I'm talking about, right?  What what!

more edumacation later...taking child to birthday party.

So smart, and sassy.  Jimmy Neutron is one of the only kids programs I can think of, where the boys don't think girls are gross, the do continuous movie parodys that appeal to me (they just ripped off Pulp Fiction, and reference Tarantino in many of the episodes), and it's just a smart program.  Hell of a lot better than Fairly Odd Parents.  I think Jimmy Neutron is almost as good as Animaniacs

Now the question becomes, why am I watching Nick at 8 in the morning?  Because I'm stupid, and I can't say no.  I tried to say no,  but was threatened.  I was told if I didn't come in today, I wouldn't be able to use this mother (nudist) as a reference.  Let's do the math; I'm working 13 hours today, and twelve for the important job tomorrow.  I realized when I leave on the 25th with the family, I will be working a total of 18 days straight for them - 12 hours a day.  That's 216 hours.  I'm earning the 3 months of rent in the span of two weeks, that's for sure.

The boy I'm working with today, has been awake since 1am.  I know drug addicts that sleep more than this kid.  He's very "intune" with his body.  I'm all for kids getting to know how their bodies work, but pulling out your crank and cranking your crank at any time in the middle of the living room, isn't cool.  And he knows that.  But, his mother gave his action a label, therefore giving him permission to continue.  I tell him, "please do that in your room."  His reply, "I'm playing with my penis."  Dear me.  This is the kid that sticks his head in the toilet, grinds my lipstick into the carpet, and is awful close with his mother.   Yeah, this'll be a fun day.

Brunch, I'm quickly becoming a fan.  I never "did" brunch in Philly; actually, I've done almost nothing in Philly except sing, dance, and cry.  I still do that in New York, but with not nearly as much sorrow.  As I was saying, brunch.  Awoke at noon after a lonnnnnnngggggg night of childcare.  Damn, I needed that sleep.  Dragged Richards and the Ballerina to Telephone Bar, a lovely Anglophilia-charged restaurant.  I don't care for most alcohol, but them Mimosas sure are yum yum yummy.  Yum.  We had the typical British breakfast of Nachos, Beans and Toast, and Fried Stilton Cheese.  Stilton cheese is delightfuly pungent, another yum.

Helped the Ballerina pick up a money order, assisted Richards in buying a birthday present for a 7yr old, then she helped me pick out a bottle of wine.  See how symbiosis works?  It's either symbiosis or codependancy.

I would love to stay in, really.  SNL's a good one tonight.  But, my presence is requested at a party, and alas I must go.  Let's not screw this one up, ok?

So, apparently when your boss gets you tickets to a Broadway show and is good friends with the producer (Tom Hulce) you're supposed to go over to him and congratulate him on the show - even if that means intertupting Rob Lowe.  And then he would invite you and your guest backstage during intermission to meet with the cast, and hob nob with Rob Lowe.  Well, did you know that?  I certainly didn't.  There's always next time, right?

This boss is pretty awesome.  She's friends with celebrities, but not super duper stars like Nicole Kidman or Brad Pitt, but old school fabulous ones I admire, like the Stillers.  There are photos of her with Jerry & Anne all over the house.  You know, I dig that!  And she's just a nice person.  The story goes she was in a rock climbing accident after she had her daughter, and lost 3 of her fingers on her left hand.  She never had a prosthesis put on.  She's a single mother, and I know she works really hard to support her daughter.  

Her daughter on the other hand, has some issues.  She's a bright, lovely 7yr old with a tremendous understanding of the theatre culture.  She's the only other person I've met that's seen We Will Rock You, the Queen musical.  But, she has the worse case of OCD I've ever seen in a child, and has a rotten demeanor.  For instance, she commented on my sunglasses today "They make you look like a dope."  "Your new haircut stinks."  It's really sad for a child to be treating others that way - she needs such love, and if her mother were offering me more money I'd gladly be that person that would love her.  But I can't.  It's just a job, and I'm nothing more than a glorified babysitter to her - so any and all respect she has for me, is thrown out the window.

She doesn't know I'm leaving to work with that other family.  She'll put up a brave front, and probably say "see if I care."  But I know she'll care; they all care.  I'll make time to babysit her, now and then.  There's something very charming about this child, I just wish I could spend more time with her, and hone that charm.  These are the sort of challenges I like.

I feel, in a way, I'm selling out.  I didn't become a Nanny for the money, in the begining.  It was always about the kids, knowing I was filling a void, and giving them love when others couldn't.  I love teaching them new things, their parents wouldn't neccessarly teach them.  And that was it.  With this new job, it's ridiculously materialistic.  "Stuff" never mattered nearly as much to me, and the families I've worked with.  Here, "stuff" is what wakes this family tick.  Perhaps I'm being selfish in taking this job; there are so many kids that need help.  But, I've come to a point in my life, where I need to put myself first.  And I have to be ok with that; to a point I am.

So, here it goes.  I'm taking a position where the money is as crazy and the perks.  These children will never ever want for anything; they'll always have people that love them, always have diamonds to keep their fingers sparkly.  And I suppose accepting this job, is a reflection on where I am in my life.

Hopping on the "C" at 72nd St.  Only rode for one stop.  He disembarked at 59th St.  I suppose an SNL with Annette Benning pretty much writes itself.  More drama later; time to pick up a child from school.

I just couldn't help myself.  I got a job!  Better haul the matched Louis Vuitton lugage out of the crawl space; Valet's going to St. Martin for Christmas!  And if I last that long, Tuscany, Paris, and Milan Fashion Week are in the cards - imagine me at Fashion Week??!!  This position I have recieved is one, I'm very proud of.  I've earned it.  And the family is allowing me to still perform Improv.  Squee.

I'm discontinuing the blogging, the Myspace, any interaction other then verbal, for two weeks.  I have come to the conclusion that in order to be social, actual interaction needs to take place.  If you wish to contact me, you must do it via telephone.

There is no profound reason that I'm doing this, no epipheny.  I've just decided to make some changes in my life.

For the next two weeks, if you want to know about the fabulous activities taking place in my life, you must call me.  I'm only accepting business-related emails; unless you're offering me a job taking care of your kids, don't bother emailing me.  Consequently, due to the "no blog" rule, that entails me no longer reading anybody's blog.

Let me do this, just for two weeks.  It's important for me, to challenge myself.  It seems my age, inexperience in life, and general naivety are taking center stage.  I wish I could tell you my thoughts on the world, the reasons I behave and act the way I do, my asparations, but I can't seem to, and I'm not so sure you'll listen.  I shut down, and rely to much on this blog as backup.  I'm not concerned what you think, but at the same time I'm petrified of the impending rejection.  

It's time to take risks.  Time to find my place in the world.  Time to stop merely existing, and begin living.  Now, that will take more than two weeks...

Fabulously yours,

s.