Stacey Moves

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Scenario: subject, Stacey, defies previously established outline for posting, breaking free from observation and telling her own story in her own words....
Here is my weekend: I'll begin with Friday. I began my day looking forward to Happy Hour and the company of my greatest friends. I met my brother for lunch, ate a delicious sandwich and generally felt optimistic about life. After lunch I went to rehearsal for acting class, followed by a trip to my new favorite health food store, Aqua Vita. Not only was I eagerly anticipating buying vegetables for juicing and kombucha tea, but also seeing my latest crush, the boy who works the register... it's not like he's bagging groceries at Albertson's... he's working the register at a very cool health food store... Upon reaching the register and hearing my total I reach into my purse to get my credit card (god bless it) and what do I find? NOTHING! MY WALLET IS NOT IN MY PURSE! Quick! Call restaurant! NO WALLET! Think! Acting class! Maybe I left it in my prop purse! Why? Who knows? Call teacher! NO ANSWER! (beat) OH SHIT! MY SOCIAL SECURITY CARD IS IN MY WALLET! Why? I had to make a copy of it for my new job... on MONDAY! fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck (that translates to panic). I call my brother (next best thing to dad without the repercussions) and he asks me the obvious questions about where I may have left it. I'VE ALREADY THOUGHT OF ALL THAT, I think, anger/frustration/fear mounting. SOMEONE IS GOING TO STEAL MY IDENTITY! I decide the only thing I can do is go home and get ready for HH and try not to think about it. I called BofA, put hold on my cards, and prayed that I would not be carded at Metro Grille; although, drinking while in a state of panic may not be the best solution..... I quickly get over this and proceed to HH. Immediately comforted by the sight of greatest friends. Further comforted by friend with IRS/SS connections who also has experience with cases involving SS cards- It's no problem, she tells me! Panic dissipating. Then, she hands me punch cards from Xoom Juice to replace my lost (and almost full!) card! Panic gone! Almost. THEN attractive waiter takes my order without asking to see ID! THEN, I proceed to other greatest friend's house to watch the magic that happens when Ben Covington and Felicity Porter make out in their too-chic-to-be-true apartment in NYC. God, it's amazing. Saturday- gradually releasing more and more anxiety about Friday's events, only to arrive at my parents' house to find my brother and his lazy friends passed out and the house full of beer bottles. Ugh. It's fine when I do it, but when I'm sober, and not hungover, NOT COOL. Mostly because I fully expect to have to clean it up. Moving on. Greatest friend- and fellow Felicity/Ben obsessor- helps me prepare for my performance Saturday night. Step one: the hair. imagine if you will red ringlets that seem to float above my head, held FIRMLY in place with an indescribable amount of hair spray. OH SHIT. I HAVE TO BUY GROCERIES. Since I was unable to buy groceries on Friday, I had to go Saturday (and since I borrowed cash from lazy brother, I am now able- I guess he's not completely good-for-nothing). Cute boy, nowhere in sight. Thank goodness. Hippy shoppers trying not to stare at out-of-control hair that is mine. Fast forward to 7pm, The Studio for Actors. Waiting patiently back stage, in 101 degree heat, I wait for my turn. I emerge onto the stage in the biggest hair, the baddest sunglasses, TEAL POLYESTER PANTSUIT, and gawdy plastic jewelry, with LOTS of rhinestones. And the rest is history. Pictures will be posted. It was awesome. Thanks for listening- er, reading. Oh yeah, I found my wallet ;-)


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