Wednesdays at the Ritz
Did I tell you about Wednesdays at the Ritz? Each Wednesday night, I send out an evite to all my Philly-area friends and invite them to see a different movie at the Ritz Theatres (one of the best things about Philly is that it's main theatre houses are indie/foreign venues).

That being said, this past Wednesday we went to see John Waters newest journey into depravity, A Dirty Shame. I haven't really made up my mind about the movie. Like most Waters flicks, it reeks of campiness so you have to appreciate it from that angle at least. But the acting is always poor, and the dialogue here seemed more than a little contrived. Of course, there was a certain scene in a nursing home that made me simultaneously want to crawl under the seat in front of me and curl up into the fetal position, and laugh until I couldn't cry anymore...

Well, whatever. If you've liked Waters past films, then you'll likely enjoy this one. Most of the people in the theatre thought everything was hysterical - I'm just a little more cynical than the average bear.

The Job
So, not only am I working about five different jobs (in an office of three people, where there is a PR guy - i.e. the Executive Director, a writer - i.e. the Research Director, and me, I end up being the secretary, office manager, intern/volunteer coordinator, accounts payable, payroll, etc.), but now the concept of living from paycheck to paycheck is taking on a whole new meaning.

Each week we are one step closer to bankruptcy. And me, being the financial guru that I am (or that I am paid to be anyway) - I have discovered the one, inescapable truth: I never know if I will be paid. That's right folks. Because we are a nonprofit and depend upon the kindness of others to pay our bills and payroll, and because we have no money coming in, I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. In two weeks time, I could be living on the streets.

So now I have the lovely task of finding another job because I don't want the stress of figuring out how I am going to pull my paycheck out of my tush. With all that is going on in my life lately - with moving, with Anthony, with work - it's going to become that much more hectic if I start an all-out job search.

But if that's what I gotta do, then that's what I gotta do. Wish me luck! Or send me your best contacts... (either/or really)

The Boy(toy)
Alright, I told him he wasn't my boy toy, but I know he'll get a laugh out of that one. If you haven't spoken to me in a while or don't pay attention to anything I say, here it is in print: I'm dating a very fantastic, kind-hearted gentleman named Anthony. We initially met in the New York Office of Diplomatic Security, right near the end of my time there. He was very shy, but somehow we staid in touch (and I cured him of his shyness too - if you don't believe me, just ask him about playing spin-the-bottle on the roof of my last apartment with my Philly friends). In any case, after Vince and I broke up, we started seeing each other. I have no idea what day you would consider our first "date," but we've been seeing each other for about 4 months now (that is, when he's not in the Sudan or Greece, fighting crime like the super hero he is). And although I'm not going into too much detail here, suffice to say that he makes me happy. To quote Anthony, "Very much so." (I am sure there are still one or two State Department people who read my Blog, and I've been avoiding getting the word out in my old office, but if they see this, they see this.)

The End is in sight...
Okay, so I'm really supposed to be working on the financial report for the Committee of Seventy right now, but I haven't been able to concentrate all day. As we get closer to the election, more and more phone calls come in, from increasingly crazy people. I actually had one lady call me yesterday and tell me I am racist because I told her she wasn't actually a member of the Committee. Ridiculous, I tell you!

In any case, that is neither here nor there. And I should be getting back.