Happy Easter...sort of

Ok, so it's April. Tomorrow is the Figure Skating in Harlem benefit which I will watch from the sidelines since I have no moolah to speak of to buy a ticket. Johnny is supposed to show, which makes me happy. I haven't seen any of his exhibition programs, so this should be fun. Lang and Tchernyshev are back together, as well, and she really looks like she's grown up. They're doing about 35 shows this year. Let's see if they do the SkyRink Christmas show. I haven't been anywhere near that rink since October, but we'll see. I refuse to throw away 31 years of skating, I'm just "off" again. I go back and forth. If ballet was a lover I can no longer have, then skating is my pal, my buddy. We hang out when I get the time. Belasco understands.

Cold out there today. I actually saw snow flurries this morning! Wow. Sometimes it snows in April, as Prince sang.

What else is going on? 300 was amazing. I wanted to slash and kill something when I came out. So many of the shots were straight from the book, my jaw dropped. I can't believe an obvious bunch of Canadian and Scottish actors pulled off the "greek" look, which is usually dark hair and black eyes. I guess the casting crew wanted some color in the sea of sepia, gray and red. Satisfying, really. I sat in a row with about 15 teenage boys. I fear for the bully they'll take on come Monday. If you see a bunch shackled in handcuffs after a sword attack on the evening news, yup! Those were the kids.

Christine Valmy Inc. wants to see me again tomorrow. I'm meeting with Marina de Haydu. Let's see how that goes. I just want something before May. After that, I'm fucked. I won't have enough for rent and Cobra, I'll have to pick which one I can pay for. One of my scrips got lost, too. That means I can't refill until April 25. Ick! Let's see how that goes. I'll just suffer, I guess. I'm tired of taking all these damn pills.

Kjou and I continue to marvel at the skankiness of the Flavor of Love girls--they're a bunch of stripper rejects. They're all flammable, too: not one real breast or stitch of human hair on that stage. Everyone of 'em is synthetic, New York being the worst offender. I've come to the conclusion that her mother's wig was based on the Zuni fetish doll--google "Trilogy of Terror" and the doll should pop up onscreen. I've actually looked at them side-by-side. The similarity is SCARY. Let's see if someone doesn't see fit to give her a talk show. The whole Flav thing is hysterical. One Surreal Life show onto Brigitte Nielsen to....my god. And yet, I watch. It's like Jerry Springer--you feel better about yourself knowing that really stupid people are doing stupid things and making fools of themselves. Some of these girls should be watered--they lose IQ points when they pee. Sad, but true.

And I'm still in Life Limbo. My god, how weird this feels. At least my hair and boobs are real.