JESSY DELFINO'S WEEK
I bet the world is wondering how Jessica Delfino spends her days? Well, I'm going to walk you through the highlights in an unprecedented display of brutal honesty paired with a healthy helping of idle hands, too. (Please pass the boredom.) Let's play a game where you look at your calendar, compare it to mine, and we'll see who had a better day. Give me one point if my day was better, and you one point if your day was better. This should be so much fun!!!
WEDNESDAY, Sept. 25th
I went to see St. Aggostino (with pals David and Chris) over in the West Village as part of the Fringe Festival. My friend Red Bastard directed the play, and my friend Adira was one of the demons. I am slightly jealous that I'm not involved, as I was offered a chance to audition for a small role as of one of the demons and would have liked to have been involved in the Fringe Festival, but I'm known for my bad luck and sour grapes aren't goin to change my luck, so what do you want from me, Satan? It was a Commedia Del Arte kind of thing, which I'm not a huge fan of, but I am a fan of Red Bastard and some of the play speaks to me and makes me laugh, particularly the ragged old bitch Saint who pours water on everyone and waves her hands around with reckless abandon. After the play, Chris, David and I walk over to the West Side Highway where our friend Harry and his wife, Liz, try to pick us up in their speed boat. He ends up smashing the rear diving platform into the pier and almost ripping it off. David bails for home and Chris and I jump on the boat just in time to see Harry freak out in a hilarious display of swears and spit. (I love physical comedy sometimes after all.) We jet across the river into New Jersey and dock at a marina in Newport to explore the damage. It doesn't look as bad as it seems, so we spend a few hours sitting around while Harry tries to fix it and end up taking his wife's car (already parked in Jersey near where she works, what a coincidence...!) to a few hardware stores to get this or that. Harry ends up spending HOURS in Home Depot and while he's in there, Chris and I eat fries and ice cream out of a vending truck with Scooby Doo stickers all over it. We don't end up fixing the boat til around 1 am, but at that point, we take a beautiful late night cruise around the tip of Manhattan, get pulled over by the water cops for getting too close to the island during this time of terror watching, and finally hit the shore at 4 am. I can't remember how I got home that night.
THURSDAY, August 26th
I worked for David on Thursday, running errands and whatnot. We met at Whole Foods at 59th and Columbus Circle for lunch (he always treats as part of my pay, nice, huh?) along with a friend, Claudia, and I pigged out on their hot, yummy buffet. I didn't feel badly, though, because I rode my bike there (over 60 blocks.) I did whatever mundane chores he had for me to do, send out laundry and buy diet coke and shampoo, and then rode back downtown for Haunted Pussy at the Sidewalk. Jose showed up from Octomoto.com and reviewed the show for his website. (He put a very nice article up on his site.)We had a nice turnout for the show and Bad Teenage Moustache headlined, rocking hard. (I especially loved their song, "I don't love you, I love the person around your pussy." It spoke to me. (And my pussy.)
FRIDAY, August 27th
I woke up around 10 am and zoomed on bike back up to 42 and Lexington to meet the crew at Starbucks who I'd be working with at the "Grand Slam" event in affiliation with the US Open. We were met (late) by (cunt) Jen Cohen, (at the wrong Starbucks) who had flown into NY just to coordinate this event. She was super LA, with straight (probably artificially straightened) blonde (probably artificially blonde) hair and a face that looked like it'd already been lifted and tucked here or there, (though I bet she just naturally looked weird, without any help) and perfect (also fake) nails. She handed us HUGE duffel bags of mints and postcards which we were supposed to hand out to people in Grand Central Station. We handed out all the mints, then had a really hard time getting people to take the cards, so I called the USA Networks headquarters and asked if I could ride my bike over (just a few blocks away) to pick up more mints to help us do our job more efficiently. They said no, so we told passers by that the cards were collectible, and that they could use them to win free tickets to the US Open, (technically true, the website was posted on the back where they could go to enter to win free tickets. How lame.) The other three guys in the crew (one of whom was Chris) sucked at handing out cards, but I was pretty good at it and got rid of mine and most of all of theirs fairly quickly. I then rode my bike down the East Side boardwalk and enjoyed the cool breeze. I forget what I ended up doing Friday night.
SATURDAY, August 28th
My USA Networks supervisor called and left a message, so I called him back and he told me that I was fired (Chris also) from working for the rest of the US Open. We were scheduled to work three other days, including a few days at the Open, where I was looking forward to exploring the grounds and seeing some tennis. I am sure it would have been mostly boring but kind of interesting too, probably, plus I was getting $12 bucks an hour to do work a monkey could do. I got pissed and asked why I was being fired, but my supervisor, Brad Engle, (who I'd met at UCB during an improv class) told me he really didn't know (complete and total lie). I told him he better tell me if he knew or else I was going to cause a scene and include him in the backlash. He insisted he didn't know. (TOTAL lie). So, I hung up and called Jen. Here's our conversation:
ME: Hello, Jen?
ME: This is Jessica, the girl who worked yesterday at Grand Central Station...
JEN: Yeah, hiyee?
ME: Um, Brad called me today and fired me, and I was just wondering if you could tell me why that might be?
JEN: Sure. I didn't think that you acted very professionally. Chris wasn't standing where I told him to, and I thought your phone message was rude.
ME: The one where I asked if I could get more mints?
JEN: Well, it was more that you said the people didn't want to take the cards.
ME: But it was true!
JEN: Well, it's not my job to get rid of the cards, it's yours. That's why we hired you. So, if you can't do it, then fine. We don't need you. So I reported that to my supervisor.
ME: Well, did you report that you were 15 minutes late to meet us and that you gave us the wrong address to meet you at?
JEN: I was not 15 minutes late to meet you, but that attitude is why you aren't working at this event.
ME: Who is your supervisor?
JEN: I'm not telling you who my supervisor is.
ME: Well, I'm going to find out who your supervisor is, so we can either do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way.
JEN: I'll have my supervisor get in touch with you. (Click.)
A little while later, Brad called me and gave me this whole, "You're right, you really do deserve to know why you were fired," routine. Very touching. He told me the reason I'd been fired was because there was a problem with the paperwork. (TOTALLY RETARDED.) Why didn't they simply not hire me if there was a problem with the paperwork? Duh? A few minutes later, Jen's supervisor, Colleen called me. She said the reason I was fired was because I was late to the orientation, though I had called and said I was coming from an audition and would be late. (No room for error over at USA.) So, now I had three or four reasons why I got fired, and one might think, well, jeez, if you did four things wrong you should be fired! But I see it more like no one can get their story straight because they are all full of shit. None of the reasons they gave were valid, most of them weren't true, and none of them were reasons to get fired. Even if they were reasons for me to get fired, then why did they also fire Chris? I settled in to thinking of a clever way to be a cunt and get USA Networks back, and finally decided I'd use my credentials to pull off a crazy stunt at the US Open, then changed my mind, remembering that the US Open is boring, and I hate tennis anyway.
Later that evening, I went to Reverend Jen's house to be involved in a "Slutty Makeover." It was good fun, with other art stars Margaret Dodge, Faux Mo, Johanna Buccola and a few others being transformed by Rev Jen from lovely plain Janes to stunning sluts. We drank tons of Budweiser and ate an entire coconut cake which Dodge made for the party. Rev Jen Junior humped all our legs. We left to peruse the LES in costume (and to meet Chris and Harry at Max Fish). We ran into the two of them on the street and Harry ended up almost fighting with some puerto ricans who whistled at me. (He picked up a chair and ran furiously after them, waving it in the air, and they dispersed in several different directions. Harry is good for physical comedy laughs.) Chris and I went to Max Fish as Harry hid from the cops. Eventually he met up with us and we drank and drank, and then finished off the night eating fries at a hookah place on Houston.
SATURDAY, August 28th
I have no recollection of what happened on this day. I think I spent the day working at the library and eating pop tarts.
SUNDAY, August 29th.
I was supposed to work at the US Open, but you already know that story. Instead, I think I again went to the library and ate pop tarts (my favorite snack) and then around 5 pm, I rode my bike into Brooklyn to perform at the BUSH BASH at Cafe 111. There was a nice crowd of mostly hippies and feminists and it was a complete 50/50 split who liked me and who didn't. I talked to my mom on the phone about the story I wrote and met some dudes from a band from Arkansas or somewhere. I rode home and ended up mostly napping on and off until I finally conked out for the night.
MONDAY, September 30th
I rode my bike up to the screening joint in midtown to watch GIULIANI TIME, which was produced by K Video, a place where Chris used to work. I think they'd originally contacted him to put him in their documentary and ended up hiring him, probably because he's got such a plethora of Giuliani knowledge paired with buckets of true hatred. The documentary was good, and I wrote about it on my blog. Chris and I had a big talk about his political plans and when he'd announce his candidacy. It was very enlightening all, the viewing of the documentary, talking to Chris about politics, everything.
That evening, I went to Show N Tell at the Bowery Poetry Club. As I was riding over, I called my sister to ask her for a favor and got an hour lecture detailing everything that was wrong with me, including the following:
- I'm co-dependent, apparently,
- I've got a mental problem which needs help
- My music is simply pussy rock, (is crap) and could be light years better
- I mistreat my family, all
- I'm an asshole
- I blame my problems on everyone else
There were many other things but I can't recall them all. I couldn't call my sister on her birthday because I was on a hippy commune in Vermont and didn't get any cellphone service, and when I did call her, she was furious. She changed her message on her phone to say, "If you are a friend, relative or loved one, please leave a message. If you are a bill collector, ex, or Jessica, please do not." She can be funny, but I feel she's mostly conflicted, working very hard and feeling very distant from me. We didn't get along as young children (I used to beat her up and always take my younger sister Karly's side) but came into closer times when we were both teens. (We're four years apart.) After I got kicked out and ended up sort of running away, our relationship suffered more and more, and her living in Florida and me living in NYC and us never seeing eachother certainly doesn't help. However, I am a grown adult and the beauty of that is that I can make any choices I wish to make. I'm not a drug addict, I don't hurt people, I'm not an evil-intended person and I make tons of art. As far as I'm concerned, the earth's soil has a special place for me when I die. Fighting with Abby upset me in that way that only the family mechanism can, and it definitely put a negative feeling on the rest of my evening.
At Show N Tell, I got an early slot, which is kind of rare, and performed in front of a pretty packed house. BPC has been open 24/7 during the RNC to be a safe house for tired hippies who have to pee and shit, so there were plenty in attendance. The show was terrific as per ushe, and ran quite late, until about 3:30 am. At 5 am, Yoga was to take place, and at 7 am, breakfast was to be served, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, so I peddled home in the rain.
TUESDAY, September 31st
I got a mysterious flat tire. Maybe fate punctured it? I rode it anyway, flat, over to meet Harry and co. at Kate's in the East Village. We got some small snacks and rode in Harry's car over to pick up Chris at his apartment, who was to be interviewed by some guy who has a popular political radio talk show in Texas. (I forget his name!!!) Chris was interviewed by him before when he busted up the Giuliani 9/11 hearing. We rode down to the Twin Towers site. TONS of cops were everywhere and protestors were protesting as well. The cops moved in and took a lot of people to jail, but we escaped unscathed. Chris fixed my bike tire, (he's so useful!) and I rode to the Frying Pan to perform at the Unconventional Convention. The show wasn't half as big as it should of been because everyone who might have wanted to come was in jail instead. The show was fun, none-the-less, and I didn't get home until 4 am.
OK, add 'em up, kids! What fun this will be!
PS - If you're around Saturday, check out BITE THE MOON WITH YOUR TEETH at Bowery Poetry Club, starring Ann Carr and Shauna Lane, featuring Eric Kirchberger, Adira Amram and other terrific performers. It starts at 10 pm and costs 10 bucks!!! It's funny!
Oh yeah, PS 2: If you happen to pick up a copy of 10003 and see the thing I wrote in it, please do not hold me responsible for writing it, because it sucks. It's the worst thing I've ever written. It's about my show for the Howl Festival, because that's what I was asked to write, but I wrote it on a library computer in ten minutes while eating pop tarts.