Going to a Britney Spears concert is not on my bucket list. However through the power of the universe I got a free ticket to see Ms. Spears and her Circus at MSG last night.
We timed out entrance perfectly sitting just has the hula hoop lady & tumblers finished up their bit and the curtain came down for the main event. The show started with a lavish video welcome by none other than Ms. Perez Hilton doing his best Queen of Hearts impersonation. For the first time I thought ok, that's kinda brilliant. Getting that crazy Vlog queen, who after slashing Britney to bits over the years, to step and fetch it before she takes the stage gets two thumbs up from me. Because really with out the likes of her where would he be, in line at the Sizzler that's where. So say thank you to the nice lady and go to the salad bar Perez.
Britney's big reveal blew me out of the water. Not because it was SO amazing but because Madison Square Gardens went completely insane. Immediately everyone below us flipped on their phones to catch Ms. Spears in action. A sea of blue light fire flies filled the floor. Their screams almost blotted out the thump-thump of the opening number.
She looked good in her over the top white glitter corset, her weave flapping in the breeze occasionally getting tangled in her hands free mic, which was clearly her best accessory of the night. She by no means was singing, chewing the shit out of her gum yes, but singing no. Note to dresser take Britney's gum out of her mouth before she makes her entrance. With her head plastered on a jumbo tron that chicklet is the size of a bus and destroys any illusion we might have of her actually "singing".
That's when I had my first transcendental thought about what I was seeing. The thousands of fans with there devices held high weren't actually taking the time to experience the concert, to have a moment in the same space and time as Britney. But rather recording a recording of her lip syncing to a recording that they probably already have on their ipods. All of them so desperate to capture a "personal" moment to later show friends at parties or post on you tube. They stood completely disconnected to reality and just watched a subpar grainy copy brought to you by the Verizon network.
Her dancers were outstanding there bodies doing things that frankly defy gravity and all sense of propriety, making Britney look even worse, as she marked her way through numbers or took rides across the stage on various wheeled furniture. Okay so you aren’t singing and you are barely dancing, at best it was a rhythmic strut broken up by brief moments of her shaking her ass. So why all the hoo-ha?
I’ll tell you why, towards the end of the concert they show this video montage of the best of Brit. A decade of unbelievable work before her career got “Federlined” and everything went completely off course to crazytown. Visually reminding us that she had “it”, where “it” went wasn’t a question in the subconscious of her fans all they know is that “it” is back. Bouncing through her life I couldn’t believe all I had forgotten the crescendo building to the Madonna kiss and on cue it incited MSG to raise the roar to another feverish pitch.
Britney as we all knew and loved her flashing before our eyes. Over time we forgive all her missteps, we know how America loves a comeback. Especially after we’ve built someone up so high only to knocked them down just to see what they’ll do next. That is what made it all so surreal. The people gathering in this urban coliseum to see if it would be thumbs up or thumbs down for the Princess of Pop. Clearly the bitch is inching her way back. She’s under tight wraps. Her patter limited to, “Hey New York! How are you doing?” and “Good night New York! Thank you!” Really after all her time performing that’s the best she can do? But like I said that’s all “they” probably will let her do.
She did sing one ballad sitting in a ring that flew above the stage. It was a quiet moment in a sea of leather, bondage and masked freakdom accented by the odd whip or chain, clearly stolen from an old Madonna concert, rehashed but still titillating us in it's veiled material girl homage. She was quiet and sang into a hand held mic, her voice soft and melodic trained and ready. She can do it live, she should do it live. I thought about the greats from the ‘70’s & ‘80’s who would never have dared NOT to sing live. I wonder if there will ever be a Britney that just shows up one day with her band, a Persian rug and just sings. Probably not.
I have never seen one person do so little before so many and make so much in my life. No one seemed to care, not really, we give her a hard time for it but we really don’t want anything else from her. Does she want more from her life as an artist? Or is she happy being wound up and tossed around this Circus? Maybe she’s made peace with that and will make another album maybe two, but then disappear giving way to the next pop idol.
I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, and won’t that be fun.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Blessings....
This weekend I got a treat. A small gift from the great state of Illinois purchased at the infamous Uncle Fun Emporium. My partner in crime, sister in spirit and in truth, my go to plus one and all round gal pal Madeleine Maby decided to take a chance on the power of the divine or reasonable facsimile there of and bought me Jesus Band-Aids.Doing her part in the unending saga that is “the baby leg” she thought a little Jesus couldn’t hurt. I mean he did allegedly heal people so why not give his holiness a try on my wounds.
So far so good….leakage has officially stopped. My sock was free of goo this morning as I arrived to work, (knock on wood – clearly I’m not religious or superstitious). This after only wearing the Jesus bandage for two days!! Is it a miracle??? I’m not complaining!!
Friday, August 14, 2009
Big Busy Night!
Tonight might be a little too eventful but I'm gonna try and pull it off in the grand Brandy style which we all have become accustom.
5:30pm - leave for BAM to meet Ryan and Kelly for a showing of The Philadelphia Story. Where the hell is BAM?
6:50pm - MOVIE
8:50pm - Leave BAM destination UCB, BAR or TBD. Killing time until.
11:00pm - Late Show at Don't Tell Mama's. It might be too soon to be shaking this new comedy jelly in front of a late night audience but stage time is stage time. If you wanna see the train wreck swing by Mama's it's on 46th bet 8th & 9th Ave...NO COVER - 2 Drinks - Cash Only (what?? you're out drinking anyway)
1:00am - Show Over - head to UCB for 2:00am spot at the Del Close Improv Marathon to see dear friend Sarah Beckman shake her jelly. Her jelly is from Chicago so it's deep dish and worth the trip.
2:30/3:00am - MORE DRINKING??? or Death I can't be sure....is this really the secret to staying young? Pray for me.
Shabbat Shalom!
5:30pm - leave for BAM to meet Ryan and Kelly for a showing of The Philadelphia Story. Where the hell is BAM?
6:50pm - MOVIE
8:50pm - Leave BAM destination UCB, BAR or TBD. Killing time until.
11:00pm - Late Show at Don't Tell Mama's. It might be too soon to be shaking this new comedy jelly in front of a late night audience but stage time is stage time. If you wanna see the train wreck swing by Mama's it's on 46th bet 8th & 9th Ave...NO COVER - 2 Drinks - Cash Only (what?? you're out drinking anyway)
1:00am - Show Over - head to UCB for 2:00am spot at the Del Close Improv Marathon to see dear friend Sarah Beckman shake her jelly. Her jelly is from Chicago so it's deep dish and worth the trip.
2:30/3:00am - MORE DRINKING??? or Death I can't be sure....is this really the secret to staying young? Pray for me.
Shabbat Shalom!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Batter Up!
It's been three weeks since I started my journey back into doing stand-up on the regular. It's the bottom of the 1st inning and so far my stats are on the rise.
7/29 - Strike Out
8/5 - Triple Play (almost a home run but the ball tipped the fence)
8/12 - Double Play (solid and entertaining)
As most of you know I'm not really a sports person. So the baseball metaphor comes from my newest bar side reviewer Tom Privitere. A small group of us decided that we didn't see each other nearly enough over the past year. Once maybe every 6 months and then perhaps at the holidays or at the random game night.
So Wednesday Night has become our prayer meeting. 2 for 1 and the Duplex and possibly a chance to see me be funny at the Suddenly Stand-Up Open Mic, hosted by Poppi Kramer or Micheal Brill, depending on Poppi's very busy and important schedule.
Tom has a razor wit of his own and you can't BS Tom, if it stinks he'll tell you. This I like. Straight forward no ego stroking nonsense. So stay tuned maybe they'll be a grand slam on the horizon!!
Gooooo Team!
7/29 - Strike Out
8/5 - Triple Play (almost a home run but the ball tipped the fence)
8/12 - Double Play (solid and entertaining)
As most of you know I'm not really a sports person. So the baseball metaphor comes from my newest bar side reviewer Tom Privitere. A small group of us decided that we didn't see each other nearly enough over the past year. Once maybe every 6 months and then perhaps at the holidays or at the random game night.
So Wednesday Night has become our prayer meeting. 2 for 1 and the Duplex and possibly a chance to see me be funny at the Suddenly Stand-Up Open Mic, hosted by Poppi Kramer or Micheal Brill, depending on Poppi's very busy and important schedule.
Tom has a razor wit of his own and you can't BS Tom, if it stinks he'll tell you. This I like. Straight forward no ego stroking nonsense. So stay tuned maybe they'll be a grand slam on the horizon!!
Gooooo Team!
Monday, August 10, 2009
BLOG BY REQUEST - #1
Requested by Jillian Horwitz
Relationship: Work Colleague
Topic: Being Dumped...
The act of being dumped can vary. Usually our first forays into rejection come when retrieving our shy missives from grubby middle school hands, "check this box" if you like me is how we test the waters of relationships. The anticipation of unfolding the well crafted notebook emissary builds only to find NO clearly marked in pencil. This sends a pang through our tiny selves. We might well up and cry a bit before dismissing it; our hearts are more resilient in youth and can take such slights in stride with little more than a whimper and an ice cream treat.
However as we mature and grow into our dating we deepen attachments. Reveal more of who we are or might be to those we draw near. Warily peeking the door open and pushing the fear aside to bring another soul in for a closer look. That’s when the “dumping” becomes savage in nature. Not just a thoughtlessly checked box because you might have cooties, but a clear rebuff after the knowing, after the reveal of your most treasured secrets, to be dumped feels like the end.
Which it is, the end of intimacy with the person you trusted with your holy of holies. The “one” you thought saw you. Being seen is very tricky because you don’t want to be seen too soon. We guard ourselves just for this reason; too much too soon can bring about a dismissal prematurely. A wise dater takes baby steps and waits to see how much the intended “wants” to know and conversely this works for us as well, because early on they too might have cooties. Getting to know someone in small increments is the best way to avoid the crush of the dump, which is easier than it sounds because the rush of our hormones and the need to be understood can work against us.
We all come into this world alone and then spend the next 60 to 80 years trying to find the right person to spend time with until we exit stage left. We all want to be loved, to be seen, to show someone else how broken or faulted we might be and know that they love us no matter what. We fall in love. When we get dumped the fall ends abruptly knocking the wind out of us.
I remember being a child maybe 6 or 7 and I fell out of a tree. Wham! I stood up unscathed, but I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t scream there was nothing. I walked up the hill to our house arms out stretched, tears streaming down my face looking for my mother to make it all better. That is the feeling of being dumped. Walking around the living, with a silent scream in your chest, feeling like dying would be better if only the pain would stop. Not knowing when your breath will come back or when your heart will start beating again. It’s a death with a shelf life of an undetermined length.
Getting over a dumping is different for everyone. Some wall themselves back up quickly with great bravado and anger. Other’s weep and creep through time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then still others might bounce back like Tigger at a picnic, those people scare me. My theory is that they are either dead inside already or are secret mourners who on the outside wear a mask so flawlessly unbroken as to never bring attention to their internal pain yet on the inside are as hollow as “normal” people. But be cautious with these humans or you might find your bits in a hefty bag at the bottom of the sea.
Life is pain, its how you know you are alive. If everything came up roses we’d complain about that too. The game of love has winners and losers and it would be nice to think that if you loved someone they would love you back, it seems like the courteous thing to do. Only like us they have free will and even though it hurts right now, there will be a time Jillian, when your breath comes back.
Relationship: Work Colleague
Topic: Being Dumped...
The act of being dumped can vary. Usually our first forays into rejection come when retrieving our shy missives from grubby middle school hands, "check this box" if you like me is how we test the waters of relationships. The anticipation of unfolding the well crafted notebook emissary builds only to find NO clearly marked in pencil. This sends a pang through our tiny selves. We might well up and cry a bit before dismissing it; our hearts are more resilient in youth and can take such slights in stride with little more than a whimper and an ice cream treat.
However as we mature and grow into our dating we deepen attachments. Reveal more of who we are or might be to those we draw near. Warily peeking the door open and pushing the fear aside to bring another soul in for a closer look. That’s when the “dumping” becomes savage in nature. Not just a thoughtlessly checked box because you might have cooties, but a clear rebuff after the knowing, after the reveal of your most treasured secrets, to be dumped feels like the end.
Which it is, the end of intimacy with the person you trusted with your holy of holies. The “one” you thought saw you. Being seen is very tricky because you don’t want to be seen too soon. We guard ourselves just for this reason; too much too soon can bring about a dismissal prematurely. A wise dater takes baby steps and waits to see how much the intended “wants” to know and conversely this works for us as well, because early on they too might have cooties. Getting to know someone in small increments is the best way to avoid the crush of the dump, which is easier than it sounds because the rush of our hormones and the need to be understood can work against us.
We all come into this world alone and then spend the next 60 to 80 years trying to find the right person to spend time with until we exit stage left. We all want to be loved, to be seen, to show someone else how broken or faulted we might be and know that they love us no matter what. We fall in love. When we get dumped the fall ends abruptly knocking the wind out of us.
I remember being a child maybe 6 or 7 and I fell out of a tree. Wham! I stood up unscathed, but I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t scream there was nothing. I walked up the hill to our house arms out stretched, tears streaming down my face looking for my mother to make it all better. That is the feeling of being dumped. Walking around the living, with a silent scream in your chest, feeling like dying would be better if only the pain would stop. Not knowing when your breath will come back or when your heart will start beating again. It’s a death with a shelf life of an undetermined length.
Getting over a dumping is different for everyone. Some wall themselves back up quickly with great bravado and anger. Other’s weep and creep through time waiting for the other shoe to drop. Then still others might bounce back like Tigger at a picnic, those people scare me. My theory is that they are either dead inside already or are secret mourners who on the outside wear a mask so flawlessly unbroken as to never bring attention to their internal pain yet on the inside are as hollow as “normal” people. But be cautious with these humans or you might find your bits in a hefty bag at the bottom of the sea.
Life is pain, its how you know you are alive. If everything came up roses we’d complain about that too. The game of love has winners and losers and it would be nice to think that if you loved someone they would love you back, it seems like the courteous thing to do. Only like us they have free will and even though it hurts right now, there will be a time Jillian, when your breath comes back.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Rebound!
After the poo-storm, which is what I am calling the “set” I “performed” at the Duplex last week, I found myself ready to step back into the light of shame and uncertainty once more to try and make’em laugh. I actually wrote some jokes during my insomnia earlier this week, wrote them down even. Made a set list and guess what? I was funny. Imagine that being prepared actually makes a difference. Kinda like how eating right and exercise cures fat asses. Earth shattering, someone should write a book.
It felt awesome. Re-crafting a joke while you’re telling it is an unbelievable feeling. Riffing in the moment and having the confidence to go with it and KNOW it will be funny in the end even though you’re not sure how you’re gonna get there is better than any opiate. So I’m building on something small. Tiny baby steps outta this 9 to 5 cube and into the life I want.
My mother gave me a very valuable gift, she taught me to believe. Faith was important to her and she tried to instill in me a deeper trust in the universe. While I am not fond of or support organized religion I do believe in having the strength to support others & give encouragement. Helping my precious few stay focused on their life’s journey is my duty as a friend and something I’ve been good at my whole life thanks to my mother's wonderful example.
So now I'm preaching to the choir and using a bit of that fairy dust on myself for a change.
It felt awesome. Re-crafting a joke while you’re telling it is an unbelievable feeling. Riffing in the moment and having the confidence to go with it and KNOW it will be funny in the end even though you’re not sure how you’re gonna get there is better than any opiate. So I’m building on something small. Tiny baby steps outta this 9 to 5 cube and into the life I want.
My mother gave me a very valuable gift, she taught me to believe. Faith was important to her and she tried to instill in me a deeper trust in the universe. While I am not fond of or support organized religion I do believe in having the strength to support others & give encouragement. Helping my precious few stay focused on their life’s journey is my duty as a friend and something I’ve been good at my whole life thanks to my mother's wonderful example.
So now I'm preaching to the choir and using a bit of that fairy dust on myself for a change.
This week so far...
The beginning of the week started badly.
I couldn’t sleep the night before and was so full of PMS that it caused me to cry at work. Which I hate!!! I did it quietly in my cube and I don’t think anyone noticed. Hormones are exactly that, whores, they spin you around emotionally and slap you into wanting to run into traffic. I’m a recovering Catholic with body issues, I’m emotionally abused enough this monthly parade of crazy does not help.
However the thing that pulled me out of this wretched state was a small but oh so big comment from a colleague who popped by my cube to say, “I read your vacation blogs and you are a really good writer.” It made me so happy that I almost didn’t need the afternoon’s dose of Midol, let’s not get crazy I took it and god bless them for making a jumbo bottle.
The universe is constantly reminding me that I am not spending my life in the manner that I should be, what does Oprah say we should be doing? “Living Our Best Life” I have always been a creative soul and spending my days in a cube working at a not for profit, while helping the world indirectly is awesome, it isn’t helping me at all.
I’m definitely writing more, working on jokes trying to get back to where I used to be as performer. It’s not easy, but the unsolicited encouragement is just what I needed. Thanks universe keep it coming!!
I couldn’t sleep the night before and was so full of PMS that it caused me to cry at work. Which I hate!!! I did it quietly in my cube and I don’t think anyone noticed. Hormones are exactly that, whores, they spin you around emotionally and slap you into wanting to run into traffic. I’m a recovering Catholic with body issues, I’m emotionally abused enough this monthly parade of crazy does not help.
However the thing that pulled me out of this wretched state was a small but oh so big comment from a colleague who popped by my cube to say, “I read your vacation blogs and you are a really good writer.” It made me so happy that I almost didn’t need the afternoon’s dose of Midol, let’s not get crazy I took it and god bless them for making a jumbo bottle.
The universe is constantly reminding me that I am not spending my life in the manner that I should be, what does Oprah say we should be doing? “Living Our Best Life” I have always been a creative soul and spending my days in a cube working at a not for profit, while helping the world indirectly is awesome, it isn’t helping me at all.
I’m definitely writing more, working on jokes trying to get back to where I used to be as performer. It’s not easy, but the unsolicited encouragement is just what I needed. Thanks universe keep it coming!!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Maddow on my mind....
I’ve watched Rachel’s show sporadically until recently while on vacation we watched Countdown & her show religiously. Now I’m addicted. Everywhere I go she’s on some cover of a magazine or like last night she was on Real Time w/ Bill Maher and every time I see her she seems just so real and present. Not show biz at all, which is how I feel the news should be, of course she shares her talking head opinion and that’s fine with me, she’s not anchoring the desk at NBC she’s hosting her show.
But last night Ms. Maddow made an appearance in my dream. Which I am trying to piece together, and I remember saying to myself remember this dream. I think I even tried to take a picture with her and some other “news” type person, a man who could have been Bill Maher but who I can’t recall. However I wasn’t viewed as a “fan” but like I should be there on the bus. Where the bus was going I’m not sure, why we were on this bus who can say? At one point we were sitting at this table with our arms folded and our heads down kind of like playing 7-up at school, but looking at each other and talking. I remember making her laugh and thinking, “Holy crap I just made Maddow laugh.” Finally a lesbian who likes me, but then suddenly she was driving the bus and backing it down this dark driveway and I was “directing” her while trying not to get my face slammed by tree limbs.
It looked like a cul-de-sac from a horror movie. Dark, windy, leaves blowing, no one around. Wisteria Lane meets Nightmare on Elm Street. I turn back to see where everyone is and I slide down a dirt hill and into a mine or cave of some kind and then I think what are we doing looking for Osama? There are military people around and I’m thinking are Rachel and I imbedded in Afghanistan? So of course I make a joke that this is NOT what I meant when I said I wanted to be imbedded with her. She laughs and then introduces me to her girlfriend. Of course story of my life….
But then my subconscious decides to give her a name. Can you believe that, I have no idea what her girlfriend’s name is but I decide it’s Pia. She’s an attractive older woman with a little salt and pepper and I think of course that’s what Rachel’s partner would look like. I can’t wait to find out if I’m even close!! Which I’m sure I’m not…..anyhoo we talk and laugh a bit more and then I wake up. 6am. WTF??
But last night Ms. Maddow made an appearance in my dream. Which I am trying to piece together, and I remember saying to myself remember this dream. I think I even tried to take a picture with her and some other “news” type person, a man who could have been Bill Maher but who I can’t recall. However I wasn’t viewed as a “fan” but like I should be there on the bus. Where the bus was going I’m not sure, why we were on this bus who can say? At one point we were sitting at this table with our arms folded and our heads down kind of like playing 7-up at school, but looking at each other and talking. I remember making her laugh and thinking, “Holy crap I just made Maddow laugh.” Finally a lesbian who likes me, but then suddenly she was driving the bus and backing it down this dark driveway and I was “directing” her while trying not to get my face slammed by tree limbs.
It looked like a cul-de-sac from a horror movie. Dark, windy, leaves blowing, no one around. Wisteria Lane meets Nightmare on Elm Street. I turn back to see where everyone is and I slide down a dirt hill and into a mine or cave of some kind and then I think what are we doing looking for Osama? There are military people around and I’m thinking are Rachel and I imbedded in Afghanistan? So of course I make a joke that this is NOT what I meant when I said I wanted to be imbedded with her. She laughs and then introduces me to her girlfriend. Of course story of my life….
But then my subconscious decides to give her a name. Can you believe that, I have no idea what her girlfriend’s name is but I decide it’s Pia. She’s an attractive older woman with a little salt and pepper and I think of course that’s what Rachel’s partner would look like. I can’t wait to find out if I’m even close!! Which I’m sure I’m not…..anyhoo we talk and laugh a bit more and then I wake up. 6am. WTF??
Time Flies....Thank God I have a ticket!!
This time last month I had started my vacation with the BEST Gin & Tonic of my life while celebrating the birth of our nation at the Ragusa/Richter Bungalow in NJ. Followed by fireworks & a swollen baby leg at Susan & Nick’s NYC Condo in the sky!! Where does it all go??? Thank goodness I’m taking the time to smell the roses while I can because you know the shit flows down hill and guess where I live???
Monday, August 3, 2009
The Magic Treehouse...90 days and counting.
After my father passed seven years ago I moved from my Williamsburg loft apartment, which I shared with four other friends, into the city. Officially, my first home on my own. Everything I own in the whole world fits into a studio apartment on the Eastside of Manhattan. It’s not much bigger than most people’s garages, but at the time the rent was $1000 and within my budget, so it became what is now known as The Magic Treehouse.
Everyone who comes to the treehouse says pretty much the same thing, “it’s warm, homey, and I could totally live here.” I love that, I love that my friends feel safe and relaxed in my tiny kingdom. That they look forward to my parties, or just to a night of watching Mad Men or an awards show. I’ve had some really amazing times in my small corner of the world. I’ve also had tremendous heartbreak and loss, within those walls that have stood there since 1901. The good and the bad come and go surrounded by too many ghosts who float through my imagination. How many people have lived there, from when it was a single family home to when it was carved up and made into apartments? How many different lives have played out on that hard wood floor? 108 years is a long time, and no matter what happens seven of them will always belong to me.
My tenure there has come to an end. My lease renewal arrived this weekend to reveal a $350 rent hike for a 2 year contract. What was $1000 has now steadily grown into $1800, so Kayla and I must venture out into the world and find a new space to dwell. As of November first I will be living somewhere else, it’s scary, and I’m not sure what will happen, but change is good. I need a good shaking up; maybe I’ve been too domesticated for too long.
So here’s to the Magic Treehouse, thank you for keeping me safe as the city rushes by, thank you for making an orphan feel like the Queen of her own castle and most of all thank you for being a place people wanted to be.
ps- There will be several good-bye parties so keep your eyes peeled for facebook invites….the old girls gotta go out with a bang!!
Everyone who comes to the treehouse says pretty much the same thing, “it’s warm, homey, and I could totally live here.” I love that, I love that my friends feel safe and relaxed in my tiny kingdom. That they look forward to my parties, or just to a night of watching Mad Men or an awards show. I’ve had some really amazing times in my small corner of the world. I’ve also had tremendous heartbreak and loss, within those walls that have stood there since 1901. The good and the bad come and go surrounded by too many ghosts who float through my imagination. How many people have lived there, from when it was a single family home to when it was carved up and made into apartments? How many different lives have played out on that hard wood floor? 108 years is a long time, and no matter what happens seven of them will always belong to me.
My tenure there has come to an end. My lease renewal arrived this weekend to reveal a $350 rent hike for a 2 year contract. What was $1000 has now steadily grown into $1800, so Kayla and I must venture out into the world and find a new space to dwell. As of November first I will be living somewhere else, it’s scary, and I’m not sure what will happen, but change is good. I need a good shaking up; maybe I’ve been too domesticated for too long.
So here’s to the Magic Treehouse, thank you for keeping me safe as the city rushes by, thank you for making an orphan feel like the Queen of her own castle and most of all thank you for being a place people wanted to be.
ps- There will be several good-bye parties so keep your eyes peeled for facebook invites….the old girls gotta go out with a bang!!
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