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So it’s the day after Thanksgiving. I’m hoping none of us gained over 4 pounds. I hate how hard people try to make you fat during holidays. i went on a date last night, and every time his grandmother offered me pie-it was borderline relentless, i would just point to my date and say that he said i wasn’t allowed or else I’d have to walk home. that got her off my back, and yet i still feel guilty. there’s only so much layering black tights can do! they say sex burns calories, but it sounds too easy.

anywayzies, a few months ago i went to new york to see woody Allen play at the Carlyle hotel. he plays clarinet in a jazz band. they made a documentary about it called “wild man blues”. i went alone. flew to NY on a Monday, arrived in the city at 5pm, the show started at 8pm, and i was due to leave at 6am the next morning. my goal was to meet woody Allen. to speak to him, to have him look me in the eye. to have an experience, a memory that no one could ever take away from me. (really, i wanted him to see me, fall in love with me like he has with scarlet j, and put me in every movie he makes till he dies……) after he played, i stood by the door that the matradee said he would leave through. i walked up next to him, not being ugly helped, and I’m also a girl… the cards were in my favor. i was wearing a navy blue high waisted tulip skirt and a creme colored Marc by Marc Jacobs lace blouse. black tights and flats. i felt good. his big Italian looking security guy looked happy about me approaching, what a great day! I’m amazing! i said “that was great Mr. Allen.” Mr. Allen? who the fuck did i think i was? i was nervous. “oh, thank you.” he said. “can i ask you a potentially super embarrassing question?” “of course, what’s your name?” “Alexi” “yeah, but you have to talk louder, cuz I’ve been playing jazz all night and i can’t hear very well.” i leaned in to him, put my hand lightly on his arm, bent down a bit-I’m a towering 5’11, while he is not. “well, um, this is so unlike me, i swear to god, but if i don’t do this I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, and it’s just that you’re so hard to get to, so that’s why I’m acting like a crazy person and gonna ask you…um, really I’ve never done this, and don’t think I’m not judging myself as i do this…cuz i am, and normally i would be mortified, but….the only thing i want in the whole world is to be in one of your films. how would i go about doing that?” there! i did it! i jumped off the cliff, and behaved like someone i would normally ridicule and make fun of…but now i was that person. i guess you have to be “that person” everyone once in a while. woody Allen looked at me and smiled. i tried to look as cute and interesting and smart as i could while i held his gaze for those 15 seconds. he said “you wanna be in one of my movies” “yes, i can actually act and I’m very interesting looking” yes, i really said that! cuz wouldn’t you tell someone you admire how interesting YOU look in the only opportunity you might ever have to talk to them?! DUH! he smiled and laughed, and told me to send my head shot and resume to his office – he gave me a specific womans name, and said to write a note saying that we had met and had a chat at the Carlyle”…..blah blah blah……in an ideal world, what did i expect? probably a chauffeured Bentley to roll up and for me, woody and the Italian bodyguard dude to get in and go to JFK and immediately start shooting his new film with me as the lead….followed by the red carpet screening an hour after we wrap production, and flowers and champagne all for me! and rave reviews, etc….but this was what it was. and it was pretty exciting. all i had set out to do was to be brave enough to talk to woody Allen. he made stardust memories, Hannah and her sisters, Annie hall, Manhattan, etc. movies that have shaped the person I’ve grown up to be. films that are responsible for the way i think, taste, sense of humor, and even style. by now, hords of people were yelling for Woody’s autograph, and my ‘woody Allen and me’ bubble was about to be popped. so as he turned away to sign a book (without feathers), i slunk off into the night. i had an early plane to catch. Happy Thanksgiving.

Here’s a scene from the movie “King of Comedy”. I might as well be Sandra Bernhard and Woody Allen could easily be Jerry Lewis. Have a great summer, K.I.T, xoxo

5 Responses to “The Next Day…”

  1. you stole my king of comedy bit. you bitch i LOVE YOU!

  2. Holy shit. My admiration for you is through the roof.

  3. thanks qt! xoxo

  4. woody allen is friends with someone who lives in my parents building on the UES, ( i live in new york OBV) and it was always my plan to win him over with my neurotic charm, amazing style and porcelin skin haha you beat me though

  5. I’m actually too jealous
    you’re so awesomeee

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