2009 is ALMOST OVER!!!

Boom's New Year's party is going to be just as big as Halloween.  And perhaps a bit more classy...

The theme is "Mad Men."

Doesn't this poster make you want to party hard?  Me neither.  Marketing team: Fail.

I was thinking about going as a dude and rocking back and forth in a corner all night.  But I decided to quit being a smartass and purchased a pink polkadot dress today from a vintage shop on the Overtoom.  (The owner is the self-proclaimed biggest, most famous drag queen in Amsterdam!!)

***

IN OTHER NEWS:

I'm dying my hair dark brown tomorrow afternoon.  (4.33 French Roast, to be exact.)  This is either the best or the worst decision ever.  The last time I was a brunette, I was on Spring Break with Kat in Puerto Vallarta.

(This is what girls do around 8pm when they are subsisting on a diet consisting solely of Rum and Cokes y Cacahuates con Limon)

I will post pics...if Dutch dye doesn't make my hair fall out.

May Peace and Kisses rain down on you at midnight,

xxxxx, jess

Almost as good as this:

I fell off my bike

Yesterday, on the way to meet Chapman for a delightful afternoon of shopping before rehearsal, I bravely ventured out of my deliciously warm apartment and decided I didn't want to take a tram up to Dam Square.  I wrestled with my bike lock for a few minutes, successfully awoke it from its frigid slumber, and headed up the Overtoom.

Now.  There is something you may not have read in your local papers.  But it's big news.  HUGE.  Amsterdam had 3 inches (errr...7.62 centimeters...) of snow the past few days!!  People are going ape shit!   Little kids are carrying snowballs like baby birds in damp little mittened paws, 30-somethings are slippin and sliding gleefully over bridges, taxi drivers are driving the speed limit...IT'S LOCO.

Back to the story of my downfall (literally): I was 90% done with my trip.  I had carefully navigated several slush puddles when I got to the tricky leg: the Leidseplein (where Boom is located).  Tram tracks, taxi lines, tourists OH MY.

I was about 4 meters behind a delivery truck (a big white van reminiscent of a kidnapper-mobile) when IT happened.  A group of tourists crossed in front of him.  He slammed on the brakes.  I squeeled "SHITT FUCK SHIITTTTTTT" as I also backpedaled, slamming my left shoulder into his back end, tumbling into the icy gutter, HEAD OVER HANDLEBARS.  If it didn't hurt/shock me so much I would have sprung to my feet and done a Rocky dance.  Legit spillage.

About a dozen witnesses crowded around me, a dude rotated my handlebars back to their original position, and asked me if I was ok.  I shamefully pushed my bike over to the theater and pouted as I iced my knee for the next 2 hours.  Ironically, retail therapy would have made me feel a lot better.

***

It still hurts.  And my right knee has puffed up and turned every color of the rainbow.  I'm gonna look BATTERED in my NYE outfit.  No kiss for me, me thinks.

i gotta go stir my stew

xxx, jess

I miss Julie Nichols.

Julie, one of our two musical directors at Boom, moved back to Chicago yesterday.  Everyone misses her terribly already.  I made her this video and premiered it at her roast on Monday night.



Love you, Julie.  You are a treasure.

Spark of Romance

 Dares from colleagues can end in comedy, tragedy, or a mix.  Tonight's dare ended with a valuable lesson.

Chapman, Lolu and I were drinking some Heine-ys at Lux and noticed a particularly boring couple sitting quietly in the corner.  Both very fashionably dressed (she had a bold coif reminiscent of Anna Wintour's banged bob), we couldn't help but notice how incredibly awkward this date must feel as minutes passed between pleasantries.  This is when my "big bros" dared me to do something I was very uncomfortable doing.  Intervening.

BUT...much to my surprise.  Their plan worked.

During this sociological experiment, we discovered something fantastic:
If you ever want to light a spark of romance in a boring couple's conversation at a bar...approach the man when she goes to the powder room and ask if he's in a relationship with her.  If he says "yes," say "she's a lucky girl."  Even if he says "no," giggle and say "I was going to say 'she's a very lucky girl.'"  I saw a lame-ass 30-something couple go from zero to 60 in 7 seconds flat.  As soon as she got back from the bathroom, the deal was practically sealed.  He turned into a Dutch Don Juan...kissing and hugging the shit out of her.

They paid their tab and left, arm in arm, minutes after she returned from the WC and he shot me a huge, victorious smile as they walked by.  :)

Home team wife killers!!

Saving one painful date at a time,
xxx Jessica

PS - Don't dare me to do things.  I can't deny a double dog.

Dutch Babies Don't Cry

Something is wrong in Holland.   Something is wrong with Dutch babies. 

Honestly, I haven't seen a tantrum thrown by anyone under the age of 14 since moving here more than three months ago.   But I did see a a college-aged beauty throw a pretty fantastic freakout as she continuously suckerpunched her boyfriend in the ribs on the back of his vespa.

 Why don't Dutch babies cry?!?!

Why aren't they more demanding and disrespectful in public?!??

Why don't Dutch parents instill a sense of entitlement in their children?!!?!?

Do they all just have a permanent contact high???!?!

I have done a basic sociological experiment in order to explain this alien phenomenon.  There are several factors that exist in Holland (and not in the States) that contribute to the juvenile contentment epidemic (heretofore referred to as the JCE).

Here are my findings.

  TRANSPORTATION

Dutch kiddies are transported in two ways.  And only two ways.

The Bakfiets.

This wheelbarrow/bike hybrid is widely used around Holland to transport tots to-and-fro.  It is my conjecture that

A) physical proximity to Mama and Papa,  B) danger, C) the ability to pretend one is a sack of groceries, and D) seeing one's parents pedal tirelessly to make you go "faster, faster!!"

contribute greatly to JCE.

S

Shoulder Rides.

Dutch dads don't mess around.  Until a kid can keep up with their gigantic stride, they plop Jr. on their shoulders and act as a 6"3" segwey.  Children have to be amazed and grateful for some quality time with Dad as they straddle the nape of his neck and bounce down cobblestone streets. 

In America, the Station Wagon not only forces the driver to face away from his or her children, but it is far too safe and too comfortable.   The lack of effort American parents use to get from point A to point B doesn't earn them brownie points with their spawn.

Honesty

The Dutch are famous for their honesty.  If you smell like a baby prostitute, they'll let you know it.  If you eat more of the crudites platter than the other party guests, they'll let you know.  If your boot needs a new zipper...you get the point.  

My Childhood Psychology class at NU sited several studies which have shown that self esteem is overrated.  In fact, bullies often have HIGH self esteem or inflated senses of selfworth.  

 By letting a shitty kid know they're acting like a little flicker retard, they quickly realize what is reasonable behavior.  No BS.  No sugar-coating.  Tough love is a great parenting strategy.

Lack of Choice/Media Outlets

 

Dutch kids don't have evil Disney fairies whispering in their ears morning, noon, and night.  They are never told they need a Wii Fit or a Bakugan Brawlers giftset or every [racially-ambiguous] Bratz® doll.  Sint (Dutch Santa) might bring them one big present (maybe a dissembled dresser from IKEA) and some chocolate-covered spiced cookies.  That's it.

Who needs a playroom full of electronic whosie-whatsits when you can go feed the swans in the Red Light District canals??  (Seriously...there is a massive flock of swans that live in the canals around the Red Light district.  It's the most bizarre juxtaposition of beauty and squalor I've ever come across...except for that one threesome I had wi...nevermind.)

If I find anything else, I'll let you know.

More posts to come.  I swear.

Stay warm.

xxx, Jess

Overtoom OK Video

Check out the video Chapman, James and I made for the new show!!

Short Version of my first Dutch Commercial

Apparently this commercial is running on Dutch TV all the time... and has a longer version.  But check my sweet acting skills at second 16.  That's right.  You feelin' that??





Don't blink or you'll miss me. :)


xx, Jessica

(PS - Still haven't gotten paid for this, but yesterday I finally got my ABN-AMRO ATM card.  Babysteps...)

Pictures from Halloween

As I told many of you, I was a "Fruit Fly" for Halloween this year.  I wore black wings and fluttered around handsome gay boys (and Amber, dressed up as Mr. T)...and my detailed antennae squished any possibility of uncertainty.  

I danced til 7 in the morning.  My dogs were barkin to say the least...

 

Getting ready in the shiny

The Dance Party

 

MR. T!!!

How handsome is Jamel?

Jamel and Simon!

Simon y Yo

Scary!  A bunch of girls dressed up as "The Ring"

Right before we tumbled down the stairs to the party

 

Amber pities the fool who falls down stairs

 

Andy Warhol and Edie Sedgwick (?)

 

Neil is a promoter at Boom

Handsome Simon y Yo

Mr. Dolce y Yo

THIS IS THE GUY WHO ASKED ME "WHAT'S YOUR FANTASY, BLONDE GIRL?"  BAHHHH!!!

  The security guys in Amsterdam have no shame...

Sad Clown

Star Trek is dead

 

I dunno...

Pretty Lana the Lacrosse Player and Amber-guesa

James and an Italian Vampiress

Dance Flo'

Literally Spiderman

Randos on the Dance Floor

 

 

Hairy Neil

He barely tried.  Although he did wear his kilt like a true Scotsman, I'm told...

The Boom Chicago Staff (Andrew was "Whatchu Talkin Bout, Bruce Willis" and Andrew was Beetlejuice)

 Epic night.

Top 3 Halloween Choices

Happy Almost Halloween!!!

 

Boom Chicago throws a HUGE party to celebrate Old Hallow's Eve and I still haven't decided on a costume.  Here are my top three halloween choices:

1.  Scarrie Bradshaw from Sex and the Shitty  (Zombie version of SJP's outfit in the opening credits of Sex and the City with Manolo Blahnik shoebox, weird accessories, and lots of thoughts beginning with rhetorical questions/"made me wonder"...)

2.  Double Dutch (wear two jumpropes with Heineken bottles as handles)

3.  Fruit Fly  (black outfit, wings, and lots of hovering fits around handsome gay men)

Semifinalists:
VanGogh, Scaredy Cat, Panda, Girl with Pearl Earring, Gouda Cutter, Electrical Outlet, Dutch Licorice (Drop), Man Eater


OBJECTIVES TO KEEP IN MIND
1.  I don't want to look like a desperate slut
2.  I want to dance
3.  I don't want to have to explain myself to be understood
4.  I don't have a lot of time/resources/discipline/art supplies
5.  A lot of pictures will be taken, and I can't ruin my future husbo's political career
6.  Dutch people won't get a lot of very American references
6.  I really want to dance


THOUGHTS?!?!
SUGGESTIONS?!?!?!?!?
COMMMMMMMMENNNNNNNNNNNNNT!!!!!

How Could I Fail to Mention My First Girl Fight?

Sacre bleu!  I can't believe I didn't mention in my last post that I was viciously attacked by a bat-crazy bitch (BCB) at the Amsterdam Dance Event on Friday.    Well...ALMOST viciously attacked.  Ok.  She grabbed my boob and pushed me kinda hard.

You comfortable?  Good.

Here's the story.  I was a malenky pyahnitsa  (don't tell Elena...I don't think she's read Clockwork Orange in a while... ) and began to play my favorite dancing game "he doesn't know you're dancing with him."  As you can probably surmise, this game involves me going up behind unsuspecting boys and dancing as hard as I can, for as long as I can, before he notices.  The 8:1 ratio at the event would make this a perfect opportunity for my highest score ever.

I literally chose the ONLY guy in the WHOLE CLUB with a girlfriend.  I dance for 3 seconds behind my unsuspecting victim and, out of nowhere, this crazy snatch flies at me (...from the shadowy depths of hell, apparently...), GRABS MY TIT, and pushes me off her boyfriend.  He didn't know I was there.  I didn't know she was there.   Insane.

I couldn't stop giggling as four of my friends from the theater formed a barricade between me and BCB.  WHAT?!?!

As usual, I giggled and ran the other direction.  Never to hear from BCB again.

Goodnight.  (Turns off lamp)

Amsterdam Dance Event: Best Dutch Pickup Lines

On Friday night, Boom Chicago theater was rented out by a DJ convention to throw an all-night dance party.  It was a meat market sausage party.  I've never felt so desirable in my life, despite looking a hot mess for the duration...

(See?  8 to 1 ratio of dudes to women)

AMAZING DUTCH PICKUP LINES

Here are some of the best lines I heard during the night...  Remember, the Dutch accent kind of sounds like a caveman crossed with a Canadian.  Lots of "uhhhs" and kind of deep/slow.  (That's what she said.)

1.  "Can I ask you something? (pause) Where are you living?"

Am I wrong, or is that a crazy opening line to say to a girl?  Son of a b.

2.  "I have to tell you: you are amazing tonight."

 What if I'm always this amazing?  Huh?  You've never met me before.  What if tonight is on the lower end of my "amazing" trajectory?  Idiot.

 3.  "Tell me your fantasy, blonde girl."

No.

Flattering and disappointing at the same time.  What an unusual combo.

***

Also, I may officially lay to rest about 2000 hairs on my cochlea.  Hearing Aid City, here we come!!

***

Overall, it was a very fun night.  Too bad I've felt like I'm caught in a cheese cloth the past 2 days.  Recovering from parties like this ain't easy.  And Halloween is going to be CRAZYTOWN!!  Maybe I should stick with Belgian beer and Die Hard...

I'm a choreographer?

I don't want to give anything away about the new show we're putting together (opening in the middle of November...!!), but there MIGHT be a scene that begins in a call center in Bangalore and ends with a breathtaking display of slumdoggian fancy footwork.   I love it. 

This is one of my favorite videos:


It's gonna be epic.

Thought of the Day

Cycling with groceries is hard.

I almost crashed into:

1.  The side of a hardware truck

2.  A lampost

3.  A couple making out

4. The tram

That is all.

Weekly Update

Hey again.  As it turns out, I'm fairly shitty at blogging.  I'm going to try and do better in the coming weeks.  The lack of comments, like Obama's Nobel, is a call to action.

SFW (Safe for Work) Items:
HEALTH
    I got extremely sick last Sunday.  My temperature rose to 102.7, my body ached, I oscillated between being covered in sweat and shivering like a crackho', and at one point my fingertips went without blood for an extended period of time (they fell asleep and I couldn't wake them up).  I took a ridiculous amount of over-the-counter medication, slept for 5/6ths of the day, and drank water like it was my job.  I'm still feeling kinda shitty, but at least I don't feel like dying.
    Since I don't have a house doctor yet, Pep set up an appointment for me to see his.  Get this: in Holland, the fee for an office visit is 24.80 Euros.  (That's not a copay.)  Once I get my insurance card, that amount would be completely refunded.  Effing commies.

WEATHER
    Mother Nature must hate Fall (or perhaps is trying to switch things up for Father Time in the celestial bedroom...), because it feels like we went from Summer to Winter.  It's quite windy and dreary on my way to work, I have to wear all of my coats to dinner, and the cycle home is usually accompanied by my acapella whimpers and sniffles.   I am ready to invest in a big overcoat and mittens...as soon as my bank account is set up.  (Still waiting on that...)

NSFW ITEMS
MONEY
   I still don't have my passport number, so I can't apply for my bank account.  Therefore...I'm getting by receiving cash advances from the finance department.  I have some good-old-dollars...but with the exchange rate being the worst in months, that feels like throwing my money away.  I've never lived like this.  I'm a conspicuous consumer.  This system of personal finances has made me re-realize and appreciate how lucky I have been thus far: feeling poor is tough.


LOVE LIFE
    Meeting fellas is easy.  Anything and everything else...isn't.  Sure, there are plenty of drunken chuckle f***ers after each show, waiting (swaying) for their chance to dip their toe in my waters (...I'm not into foot play), but that sort of tryst doesn't interest me.  Maybe growing up with an overly-protective older brother who would call me a slut for anything from wearing mascara, saying "Justin Timberlake is hot," or discovering that I was taking the pill has influenced my view of proper female decorum.  

Anyhoo...I ain't no hollaback girl.

That being said, I would like to make a couple apologies for my actions this past week.  

- To Dimitri, the financial planner from London (working out of Moscow currently), I apologize for hiding in the theater instead of actually getting my coat.  But let's be fair: you have a girlfriend and I saved you from yourself.  Thanks for the insider information, btw.  I'll call Schwab tomorrow morning.

-  To Marshall, the accountant from Sydney (hot damn, you're gorgeous, you Australian vampire), I apologize for making out with you on a bridge and probably giving you Dutch flu last Sunday after the piano bar.  PS - It never would have worked between us.  Your hair is better than mine...what could I have possibly brought to the table?


Time for a show.  COMMENT, Motha Truckas!  I LOVE YOUUUUUUU.

xxx, Jessica

PS  - SOOOO glad Lolu's back from three weeks in the states.  The cast is complete!  Huzzah!

I LOVE OVERNIGHTS!!

Here are some pictures from the insanely fun overnight I performed with Liz, James, and Wee Brian.  The NH Conference Center has a bowling alley, a full game room, and plays ridiculously fun songs til the early morning.  I LOVE OVERNIGHTS!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

xo, J