The Temp Pool Results with a run down of WYSIWYG

So what did you have in the "how long will Rachael last at her latest job" pool? For those of you who had until the end of her first day. You are the big winners. All you optimists (or pessmists depending on how you look at it) who thought at least until Friday. I'm sorry you are not a winner, but feel free to try again next time.

After entering data methodically yet slowly until 5:30pm I rushed home, showered, grabbed my guitar, and headed back out to the city to perform in the WYSIWYG
reading series. My first order of business was to get a glass of water. Last time I did the show we performed at PS 122, a lovely theatre but no bar, I forgot to buy a bottle of water before the show, and well... there was a whole big fiasco.*** I got my free glass of tap water from the bartender at Bowery Poetry Club. I then tipped the bartender a $1. The water was free so I tipped zero percent. That's what sucks about tipping for a free item, you can never tip 20% or more. So you always look like a cheap ass.

Tipping was the least of my problems last night at the Bowery Poetry club. I read my piece so fast it would have given the micromachine man wet dreams. Not only that, but on the few instances when people were kind of enough to throw me a laugh I just steamrolled right over the chuckles just to make sure people wouldn't do that again. Comedians don't want you laughing that's so hack. I might as well be a comic from 1987 wearing a neon blazer with my sleeves rolled up. Ugh! You'd think by this point in my performing life I'd at least have down the mechanics of presenting material. Don't get me wrong I didn't bomb. If I had I wouldn't have been able to sit through the rest of the show, I would have had to runaway immediately after my set and contemplate whether or not to step infront of bus. However, it was lack luster so I ran away 5 minutes after the show had ended and contemplatedwhether or not to become an alcoholic.

Everyone else:

Amnesia Sparkles (amnesiasparkles2.blogspot.com) was the perfect person to have on the first WYSIYG show at the Bowery Poetry Club. It's the kind of brilliance the Bowery is known to support.
Diana Eng (populartransit.com) brief but she was completely lovable and engaging.
Matthew Callan, (spaces.msn.com/members/sportsfilter) a filthy story about a dumpster, a ball, and Mike Piazza. Funny and inspiring.
Derek Hartley (derekhartley.com) he slayed them. If it were a straight up comedy show (without having to be straight) he would have had the set of the night.
Doug Gordon (planetgordon.com) I wish I wrote prose this way.
Lindsay Robertson (http://lindsayism.com/) told a great story about not-stalking Corey Feldman while he lived in her apartment.

***Last time I did the WYSIWYG show a dude I had dated was also on the show. While dating we had conversations that went something like this, "Hey how about those Mets?"
"I'm a Yankees fan really. "
"Oh yeah."
"Nest time we have sex we should use condoms ."
"Yeah."
And then of course we wouldn't, which would lead to repeating the above conversation.

I arrive at PS 122 parched. I see the boy I once dated. I mention to him how I'm thirsty I should have bought a bottle of water. He says, "Oh yeah." Then proceeds to bull out this gigantic bottle of water. It's like the size of my torso. Not that my torso is big for a torso but it's big for a bottle of water. I ask, "Oh can I have a sip of your water?" He responds, "Do you have a cup?" "Are you kidding me?" "No, I don't want to catch the flu." I retort, "That's what you're scared of catching? Aids? A baby that doesn't scare you? How about if I put condom on my tongue! Could then I have sip of your water?"
He's like, "I don't know is it lubricated?"

Another gentleman, whom I just met that evening- he writes a blog about living in the chelsea hotel-, sympathetically offered me water from his bottle. No cup necessary. Of course two days later I came down with a cold, but we don't need to tell anyone that.